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You are my child now, but you will still have to do servant jobs. I put the card down on the table, and opened the box. Inside were 2 different things. One was a movie, the other a book. The movie read 'Rava the last dragon', and the book read 'Green eggs and ham'. I was in awe. They were in good condition. To find a book, or to have a movie was rare. Usually you could only see a movie at the theater, which cost a lot. Books were even harder to get. Mortals were only allowed specific things. I was so happy. I ran to my room, and put the book on my shelf. The movie in my dresser. I wanted to watch the movie first, but I also wanted to explore. I figured they were mine now, so I could watch th

Author's Note: Hello. If there is someone who is reading this book, as you can see I made a mistake for publishing the other chapters. I'm so sorry. My phone lags that's why it happens. Forgive me. I hope you guys still enjoy reading my book. I will try to finish the book this month. ~*~ KEVIN'S (HIRO'S) POINT OF VIEW

“Never judge a book by its cover. Having a coworker like her is seriously the biggest stain on my life.” I ignored everyone’s mocking comments and simply smiled as I escorted Elijah and his group out. After everything I went through in my previous life, words like these meant nothing to me anymore.

"Don't you think you owe me an explanation for what just happened?" Caspian didn't react. "Aurelia ruined her own results by accident. You know her situation. She's been disabled since childhood and never manifested a wolf, so she's always been looked down on. You were researching the same thing anyway. Letting her use your work made sense. "Besides, you've already been demoted to Omega. You were never going to be my Luna, so don't be so petty about it." Letting Aurelia use her work made sense? She shouldn't be so petty about it?

I lifted the glass of water in my hand and clinked it lightly against his. “Here’s to a successful partnership, Mr. Caspian.” Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching our shadows across the room. Each of us stood in our own corner, like two polite strangers sharing the same space. Outside, the city glowed brightly in the night. Only then did I truly feel that I had been given a second life. In this life, I only wanted one thing: to use the Falcone family’s resources to earn enough money to stand on my own and then walk away from all of this for good.

I closed my eyes, trembling as tears escaped and fell into the food. "Happy birthday, Eleanor Shaw," I whispered to myself. "Keep moving forward—onward forever. Even if no one loves you, there's still light at the end of the tunnel. As Jeffrey said, you have enjoyed over 20 wonderful years of wealth and privilege. You've had it good." Just like that, I repeated words of comfort to myself as I wiped away my tears. I moved all my belongings that I had sorted out over the past two weeks in the living room.

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He couldn't fathom the pain I must have felt writing those words. In agony, he gripped his hair, then drove a knife deep into his arm. Only physical pain could dull the torment in his chest. He flipped to the last page. It was a note to him, filled with longing. "If there's a redo button, I'd still want to meet you all over again, Caleb." Reading that, Caleb finally broke down completely, crying as if his soul had been torn apart. Then, he opened the flash drive I left behind and played the recordings.

But how dare he create a journal when she's not the subject of all his novels. The contents of the journal are surely bothering her. The uneasy feeling of opening the first page of a book that contains secrets to one's life is nerve-wracking. Like unfolding the mysteries of an ancient civilization. 'To the stranger who saved me from drowning in love, Shanta.' Kachina winces at the acknowledgement section. She turns to the next page and finally comes across a chapter where she sees a familiar name that made her jump in joy and curl in sadness. 'Kachina... Kachina left me.'

She finishes the fourth book in March. Not March of the sixty-sixth year — March of the sixty-seventh. Two years and one month from the first entry. One hundred and four entries, shaped into four movements, the final movement written in the last six weeks, with the quality of something that has been building for a very long time and is now simply arriving. The book is called The First Life: What the Practice Earned and What the Practice Cost.