Nora Roberts Year One Novels & Stories

Nora’s POV “Do not move. Do not make a sound.” Marcus Hale’s voice stayed low and absolute against the back of my neck. His cock remained buried to the hilt inside me. My palms stayed flat on the polished conference table. The master key had already turned. The door handle began to move. City lights still glittered through the glass walls, throwing our joined reflection across every dark panel. I was Nora Blake, twenty-seven, the associate who had spent two nights learning exactly how little control she still owned on this floor. The thin fabric of my skirt sat bunched around my waist. My bare cunt clenched once around him in pure fear and he answered with a single warning press of his finge

Her favorite maid. ***Flashback**** Since Norah walked in on them in his office, Robert Keene made arrangements to transfer her back to the kitchen department. That also came after Norah talked to Rose and she admitted to be going through a rough patch with bills almost drowning her. Of course Norah had no idea that it was Robert trying to look out for her behind the shadows and she was glad when Norah gifted her an additional fifty thousand dollars in monthly installment of twelve thousand extra... This brought more hate from her colleagues who found out this under the table pact. They expected it to be someone else based on the fact that Robert hated her.

said Nazia as Ria glared at her. Anusha choked as she drank her soft drink. Nancy on the other hand laughed loudly. "I am planning to fail my first year and go back," said Ria. "What? Really?" asked Nancy. "You are basically wasting one whole year," said Anusha. "I know but I don't think I can adjust here. Everything is so different from food to our rooms. The washrooms are yuck in our college. I always end up taking the one which has a rat in it. The people and their mindset are different."

The next morning arrived too quickly. Nora had barely slept, her dreams dissolving into fragments of camera shutters, white roses, and Celine's eyes. By the time she climbed out of bed, the house was already alive with movement. Someone was laughing downstairs. Someone else was arguing over ribbons. The scent of fresh coffee drifted through the hallway, mixing with the perfume of flowers that had arrived before sunrise. She dressed mechanically, choosing faded jeans and an oversized black shirt—the uniform she always wore when she photographed events. The camera around her neck felt familiar, grounding. It was the one thing in her life that still made sense. Cameras didn't ask impossible que

A message she’d flagged weeks ago and never answered. London. She opened it again. The program was everything she’d worked toward. A clean start. A place where no one knew her history or watched her mistakes like entertainment. A place where she could be just a person—not a rumor. Dennis noticed the shift before she said anything. “You’ve been quiet,” he said one night as they walked. “Even for you.” She shrugged. “Thinking.” “About what?” “About how small this place feels.” He didn’t respond right away.

"Mrs. Chaney, don't worry. Isn't Ms. Houston back intact? Ms. Houston, Mrs. Chaney was so worried about you." I knew this young lady. She was Jeffrey's secretary. Joanna Wyatt was a beautiful blonde, wearing the simplest and plainest turtleneck sweater and jeans. There was a beautiful rose gold necklace hanging around her neck. I was "intact". Joanna’s words made me become the Chaney family’s ungrateful daughter. In fact, I was a victim. Helen held my hand, crying. Joanna on the side comforted her. But I could not cry. I looked at Jeffrey. From his eyes, I could see annoyance.

“Might be nice to get out in the country and away from everything for a few days. How does that sound to you? Away from the city and all the noise?” “That sounds really nice,” She beamed then frowned, “I would need to go to my house first and get a few things.” “Like what?” Raze asked, “I thought you grabbed stuff for a few days.” “I only grabbed stuff for one night,” She admitted. She shook her head, “I didn’t think we would stay more than a night.”

The kind she herself had cultivated by becoming unreachable, untouchable, a ghost. “I went for a walk, Elijah,” she said calmly. “The city is still there. And so am I.” She turned to Elnora, who was watching her with cautious hope, like someone witnessing the return of a familiar shape after a long absence. “You were right, Nora,” Robbin said quietly. “I was eroding. But I’ve found the bedrock.” In her office, Robbin opened a folder on her desk. Its label was simple, deliberate: The Foundation Ledger.

She looked like a dream I didn’t know I’d been carrying. Not perfect, not soft, not warm, but real, alive. Nora, Subject Eleven, stood like a ghost made of steel and memory, dressed in a long black coat, her hair tangled and wind-swept. Her face was sharper than mine, her eyes darker. But I recognized her. And somehow, my heart did too. We stared at each other across the divide of years, experiments, and all the pain no file had ever documented.

I nodded in defeatedly and walked past him. I know that he followed me because I can hear his footsteps and I can see in his eyes that he was expecting something violent from me. "Hey! What was that for?" he suddenly yelled. I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face him, "you'll see," I smiled at him before leaving him alone. As I close the door behind me, there’s only one person who I want to see and It’s Nate. Nate is like the mom and dad of our circle. He understands each one of us and he is not taking sides yet he gives us advice on what’s right or wrong.