John And Seraphina Mga Nobela at Kwento

he asked, his voice steady but tinged with challenge. Seraphina met his gaze, one brow arching ever so slightly, and took another slow sip, as if weighing whether to answer directly or let the silence work for her. Seraphina set her cup down with deliberate grace, the porcelain making a soft tap against the saucer. “My youngest son,” she repeated, her voice lowering as though the words themselves were distasteful, “is falling in love with his maid. And not just simple feelings…” Her eyes sharpened. “A crazy one.”

Once the house was finally silent again, I turned around. Seraphina was trembling,Her eyes were filled with tears. “Hey… are you okay?” I asked gently. She laughed bitterly, wiping her tears. “How can I be okay?” she whispered. Her shoulders shook as she spoke. “Nobody wants me. Everywhere I go, people see me as either a tool… or a threat.” Her voice cracked. “Because I’m weak.” Her tears finally spilled over. “I wish the Moon Goddess would just take my life. She didn’t only make me weak… she made me useless too.”

"It wounds my soul, Anna. And though it isn't safe for you to be anywhere near that man — he must know the truth. Perhaps the incoming war can still be turned away." Anna shook her head slowly. "I don't think Deimon is the kind of man who entertains reason. He prefers madness over logic. He abides strictly by the ancient laws, he believes everything must answer to blood." She exhaled, steadying herself. "But Seraphina..." "Rest easy, my dear." Seraphina reached out, pressing softly against Anna's palms. The shift in her energy was surprising—one moment she was a herald of doom, the next a comforting sister. "I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it." She paused briefly. "I'm not returning

I hung up without answering. I walked to the dresser and pulled out a burner phone. I scrolled through the photos Marcus had sent earlier—surveillance shots of Adrian Vale and a woman , probably his mistress. The man was a pig, a narcissistic middle-manager playing at being a king. But Seraphina? She was the surprise. She had walked into this room trembling, yet she had left with her head held high, thinking she had finally taken control of her life. She thought this was a one-time rebellion. A single night of fire to keep her warm in that ice palace of a marriage.

Is this the moon goddess’s way of punishing me for killing my own fated mate? Isn't cursing my pack not enough? Gently, I shift her hands, placing them properly over her belly. I walk back to my study, keeping my movements quiet. My fingers trace the familiar lock on the shelf. It opens, revealing what I’ve been keeping hidden. I wouldn't want anyone to see how I've been piling up every single publication Seraphina made ever since she was ten. For seven years now, I think. My hands linger over the spines, brushing over the pages as if I could absorb a part of her life through touch alone.

It was a connection she couldn't sever, a constant, painful reminder of what she could never have. She was so lost in her misery that she didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind her. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up, her heart leaping into her throat. It was Seraphina. She was not dressed for a party; she was still in her magnificent sapphire gown, but her face was a cold, hard mask of fury. “I thought I might find you out here, hiding in the dirt like the little worm you are,” she said, her voice a silken purr that was laced with poison.

Sebastian didn't move from the doorway. "I asked you a question," he said. Seraphina looked at him. Just looked, the way you look at something you've already decided doesn't require a response. Then she turned back to her desk. "Seraphina." She picked up her pen and looked down at the envelope in front of her, at the columns she'd been building, the careful small handwriting that had become the only productive thing available to her in seven days of enforced silence.

“We’re under direct orders. You will leave.” Bianca’s mouth opened to protest, but before she could utter another word, two of the men took a deliberate step forward. The unspoken threat was clear. Eleanor turned back to Seraphina, eyes blazing. “This is what you want, then? To be surrounded by thugs? To turn your back on your family? Are you into dating thugs now?” Seraphina’s grip tightened on the blanket. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel small under their scrutiny. She felt something entirely different and powerful. “I’m not turning my back on anyone,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m choosing myself for once.”

“And… is she someone you *like*?” Jax said nothing. Naomi suddenly sat up, alert. “Did I guess right?” Jax glanced sideways at her. “Just tell me her name.” “She’s Seraphina. You really know her? Do you know where she is now?” Naomi asked, suddenly excited. At the mention of “Seraphina,” Jax couldn’t help but marvel—*what a small world indeed.* But clearly, Seraphina didn’t remember ever meeting Naomi. Maybe she’d been too young. Or maybe, as they grew up and drifted apart, they simply forgot each other.