Lives To Tell The Tale Mga Nobela at Kwento

He was dumbfounded and speechless. Be told the words he didn’t want to hear the most, his guts trembled. “You are the only one I want in this life,” he said. His emotions came rushing to his mind. There was sadness, guilt, and hate. Tears flowed down from Jestina’s eyes. “You were born to rule, and I was born to stand on the sideline,” she mumbled, tears still rolling down against her reddened cheeks. “To watch you be with another woman who was born to rule by your side.”

was my father's second wife and also my step mom Katherine #Reality# I and Jessy enquired for the address of the authoress, but unfortunately, it was reported that she had died of cancer 2 months ago, but her child Troy is still in town, living with his uncle (Katherine's brother) no one in the theatre knew were they stayed, but the fact that he is here in New York gives us big chance of finding him easily, my father being a vampire and Katherine being a mortal human, makes Troy a half breed vampire with limitations to his abilities

“Claire, it seems you are so busy these past few days. I barely see you here in the mansion,” her mother said. “I’m very sorry mother. I’m just having so much fun on the book I read. It has really a great story. So I always look for a place where I can be alone.” “Oh what story it is?” “It is titled, Against the Tragic Fate. It is the story where the lead character was given a chance to relive her life again and fight the tragic ending of her story in her previous life.” Claire lied.

LILITH’s POV News seems to spread in this pack like the wind, passing through every home not missing a single person. I just took a break from reading the file and walked towards the kitchen to make a coffee for me when I heard few girls in the lounge talking about rogues’ presence around the border. Caleb and all are at the border, I learned from them, it hurt, I should have known about this from my mate. Sighing I entered the kitchen to beat the coffee for me.

“You don’t scare me, man.” I smile and mean the smile. “I’ll do better than scare you.” I crack his middle finger with my palm and the sound is obscene. He howls, head jerking back. “You’ll make noise now. You’ll make enough noise that someone remembers your name and regrets it.” “Please—please—” His plea is thin. “I have kids. I have a kid—” “Tell them your last story,” I say, cold as a blade. “Tell them you died because you thought you were clever.”

"It's not a book. I just made it up, based on a life story." "What life story?" Calla asked, her brows knitting in confusion. Vernon leaned back in his chair and drew in a deep breath. The usual edge in his eyes was gone and was now replaced by something raw and painful. "Our story." He slowly replied. "Yours and mine."

"I'll do what I've always done. I'll love people. I'll help where I can. I'll watch the next generation carry forward what we started." "And?" "And I'll write. I want to tell the whole story. From Lily's sacrifice to today. I want people to understand how one moment of love can ripple outward for generations." "What will you call it?" I looked around my new apartment, decorated with photos of our vast chosen family, awards from governments around the world, and artwork made by children whose lives had been saved. "I'll call it 'The Art of Living,'" I said. "The story of how broken people learned to choose love over fear, healing over hurt, hope over despair."

No music. Just him. And the deadliest silence Ryan had ever known. He began to speak. “I once read that stories don’t belong to the people who tell them,” Adrien said, voice calm and eerie. “They belong to the ones who survive them.” He looked toward the crowd but directly at Ryan. “So tonight, I’m taking back mine.” Gasps rose from the audience. Some people thought it was performance art. Others began to whisper his name. A few recognized him. Ryan stood slowly.

Mine to keep. And nobody touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale.