Novel Nicholas Sparks Novels & Stories

This bed, once a sanctuary, now feels like a stage where the lies I've told pirouette around me, each one a specter of the life I thought I wanted. The silence roars like a storm, and within its grasp, I am struck by the irreversible path before me. The woman who once rested beside Alex, blissfully unaware, has disappeared, replaced by a stranger with eyes peeled open and a soul ignited with illicit cravings. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fend off the assault of reality, but it's hopeless—the truth is seared into my core, an unyielding, throbbing force.

"So it's official now? Nicholas has moved on with his emotional support assistant?" "I'm not his assistant," I snapped. "And I don't need support. I just need coffee, a goal, and enough sense to spot a manipulative sociopath from ten floors away." Her smile didn't waver. "How poetic. But let's not forget sweetheart, men like Nicholas always come back to women like me." Nicholas stepped in front of me, voice steel. "If that's true, then I must've had a concussion the first time." A low gasp rippled through the lobby. Cassandra's face paled, then flushed with rage.

Something felt different tonight. I stumbled into the dark living room and came to a halt. Nicholas was sitting by the fireplace, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie undone, and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He appeared to be a man with too many ideas and nowhere to put them rather than the calculating billionaire I had grown to know. It was rather soothing to hear the rain hitting the penthouse windows. I was unable to fall asleep because it was late—past midnight—again.

That was until she met Spencer. When they met, it seemed apparent that they were made for each other. Dedicated and loving, Spencer had been the perfect husband a woman could ever dream of. He respected her every decision and placed her above anything else in his life. He even had a notebook that he carried everywhere, which was dedicated to jotting down all of Nikita's whims and fancies. A glimpse into this notebook revealed that Nikita did not like fish, she despised onions, ginger, and garlic, she loved cherries, and she was often in a bad mood in the first hour upon waking.