I Was Anastasia A Novel Novels & Stories

“I'm telling you, my sister. I desperately need help.” Calmly, Anastasia took a deep breath and said, “All right, it's settled. You're welcome to your new home.” “Oshey!” Isioma's face literally lit up like the sun. “The one and only Anastasia! Any other Asia is a bloody counterfeit!” Anastasia couldn't help but laugh at Isioma's antics. “Stay there and be whining yourself, you hear?” “No jor. You're just too much!” Isioma's smile turned into a big grin. “Thank you very, very much!”

Unbothered. "Anastasia," Mr. Vane snaps, slamming a hand on his desk. "Do you have any idea the kind of liability you just created for this establishment? Assaulting a guest? Destroying property?" "I... I’m sorry, Mr. Vane," I stammer, my voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to... it was a mistake." "A mistake?" Vane scoffs. "It was a tantrum. I should have you dragged out of here by your hair and blacklisted from every venue in the city."

The dirt road must have narrowed because the rider fell back allowing the carriage to go first. When she looked back at Macilleus, she found him leaning to one side with his eyes closed. Feeling awkward, Anastasia tucked her knees and pulled her hands to her side. She slid to a corner and pulled her legs up to look outside, even though there wasn't much to see, she liked the fact that she was out of Vilinski and that every breath that she took had the taste of freedom. She hoped that they made it to Oraid as soon as possible. She remembered when she was just fourteen, how Iskra, her secret mentor at Vilinski was teaching her the art of swordfighting and had said

i needed the bitterness to clear the fog from my brain. The bathroom door finally opened, the sound of the lock clicking loudly in the quiet room. Anastasia walked out, she had already put her clothes back on. Her hair was damp from the shower, combed back away from her face. Her blouse was buttoned all the way to the top collar, hiding her collarbones completely. She was wearing her gray blazer, her posture stiff and professional once again. She looked like the Chief Executive Officer of the Black corporation, not the woman who had held onto my shoulders in the dark.

Then she walked away and I never spoke to her again. Lucas Crawley. Just thinking his name made my jaw clench and my hands ball into fists. Lucas had made my life hell in college and he seemed to enjoy every second of it. He would knock my books out of my hands in the hallway and trip me in the cafeteria and spread rumors that I was gay or poor or both. And the worst part was that Anastasia had chosen him over me. I took a breath and walked up to the counter. "Excuse me." Anastasia looked up and forced a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Hi, welcome to Sweet Seasons. What can I get for you?"

Every line lately was about Anastasia, no matter what the page actually said. ‘This isn't control. This is the opposite of control.’ I read people. That is the talent under all the other talents. Put a man across a table from me and within a minute I have his fear, his price, the lie he tells himself in the mirror. They open like books under the right pressure, every one of them, because everyone has a seam and I find seams for a living. But she has no seam. Two dinners. Hours of her voice. And I came away knowing the diner with the plate-throwing cook and the tired foster mother and nothing, nothing, that told me what I needed.

Anastasia stood tall, her eyes locked on Elizabeth, her heart racing and beating against her chest with furious anger. "What do you want, Elizabeth?" Anastasia asked, her voice firm. Elizabeth smiled, a cold, calculated smile. "Oh, we're just here to make sure you're adjusting to your new life... Ana." The way Elizabeth emphasized her name sent a shiver down Anastasia's spine. She knew she had to be careful, they wouldn't blink twice before they hurt her. She had to keep her head low till she found an escape out of the mess she found herself. "Adjusting just fine, thanks for asking," Anastasia replied, her eyes never leaving Elizabeth's face.

ANASTACIA The weight of the ivory mask against my skin was both a shield and a cage. From my throne, I looked down upon the evening court, my features frozen in a snarl of hand-carved bone, while my mind was a tempest of memories and blood. To the lords and sycophants below, I was the Wolf Queen of the North—voluptuous, sadistic, and untouchable. They did not know that beneath this marquess of ivory lay the soul of Anastasia, a girl whose family was slaughtered, dwelling in the body of a princess who had been too broken to live.

Please prepare everything for the operation" Anastasia spoke up coldly. At Home "What are you saying, dear?" Mr. William was shocked to hear this. "I need to go back, Grandpa. I can't watch my daughter suffer and do nothing. I will bring him here. Alina needs him" Anastasia said in a broken tone. "Dear, it is dangerous. You know him very well" Mrs. William was worried for her safety. She didn't want to lose her again. "I know him, but he doesn't know this face. Anastasia Smith is dead, Grandma. Now I am Anastasia William. A top model. I want to join his rival company. Grandpa, please help me with that" Anastasia requested to his Grandfather.