Oliver Twist Audiobook Novels & Stories

he asked, clearing his throat and I stood up from my seat while his eyes followed my every movement. "Scoot over," I walked towards him and was about to sit down next to him but he pulled me on to his lap, making me gasp a little at the sudden action. I threw my hair to one side and placed my hands on his rock hard chest. "I will admit that you impressed the hell out of me only if the dessert is also a winner," I whispered and noticed his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Everyone loves chocolate, baby girl," he rolled his eyes, making me raise my eyebrows.

Chapter 67: Substitute Third Person’s POV “You look beautiful today.” Oliver’s husky voice echoed in Crystal’s ears, making it red. “Even when ten years had already passed, you were still as when I first met you.” Crystal blinked her eyes trying to stay calm, “What… are you saying?” “I’m just telling the truth,’’ Oliver said as he put her hair behind her ear. “Are you ready for another fun ride?” “Huh?” “Hold me tight.”

“Aren’t I?” Her voice was Olivia’s—but twisted, colder, carrying an unnatural echo that sent a chill down Olivia’s spine. “No,” Olivia said firmly. “You look like me, but you’re not me.” The other Olivia chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred. “I am you. The part of you that you buried. The part you’re too afraid to face.” She stood gracefully, descending the throne’s steps with deliberate, confident strides. “Tell me, what did you think you’d find in Oliver’s mind? A simple lock to break? A key hidden in the shadows?” She tsked, shaking her head. “No, darling. You stepped into something much bigger than you could ever understand.”

I freeze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. “Hello, Eden,” Sir Oliver's voice whispers in my ear. I startle, dropping the book and the duster in my hands and stumble backwards. He catches me, one of his hands landing on my waist and the other on the small of my back. Sir Oliver's face is as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper when he pierces my soul with those eyes of his. He doesn't let go of the strong grip on my waist. His hand on my back softly glides up till his fingertips graze my neck.

The man's smile twitched and the pink haired girl had shaky shoulders along with an obvious attempt to muffle her laughter. Oliviér couldn't restrain the instant indignation he felt after hearing what he had just heard, and it seemed his unruly assistant would not miss this opportunity to speak. "You're basically namesakes Sir," Elizabeth inputted, her shoulders still shaking from her attempt to withhold her laughter. Oliviér suppressed his unwillingness and looked away from his traitorous assistant. "Oliver…. What a coincidence…. Do tell Oliver what you were looking for in this place?" His hand moved towards the boy's shoulder, falling on it, and fingers curling around it. The fingers sunk

"I won't let you down, Grandfather." She turned and walked out of the library, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor. As soon as she was out of sight, she felt a subtle vibration in her ear—a signal from Oliver. "I heard everything, Christina," Oliver’s voice said, a low, resonant baritone that filled her with a sudden, fierce confidence. "He’s playing right into our hands. Let him bring his 'ghost.' We’ll be ready for him."

Olivias pov I moved forward towards the voice. The tunnels bent and swirled around me, a labyrinth that seemed to stretch into infinity. I called out again, gentler this time, "Hello? Is anyone there?" My voice felt tiny in the vast darkness, threading through the heavy silence. Suddenly, I caught a whisper—a voice faint yet persistent—a single word that seemed woven from the air. "Olivia..." I hesitated, feeling a tremor of both hope and fear. That voice, so distant yet unmistakably real, beckoned me with a familiarity I couldn’t ignore. My grip on the wall tightened, anchoring me as I ventured further in, letting the whisper guide me.

Ten years after Mirabel's death, Lucy sat in her home office writing the epilogue to her fifth and final book. Outside, she could hear the sounds of family life: William on a conference call in his study, the twins arguing about something in their room, Catherine's music drifting down from upstairs.

"I am not sure how to explain everything to Olliver. I mean, since he met Schuyler, he knows there's a connection between the two, but he is still just a five-year old..." Craig sighed as Abigail explained her concerns but it was Schuyler who answered, "Why should he understand anything right away?" The teenager was just returning to the living room after settling Olliver in the adjoining room with book. Schuyler was pleased to see that Olliver was more interested in the rows and rows of books available in the room rather than the piles of video games. When Olliver had settled down with a book on rare flesh-eating plants around the world, Schuyler had returned and overheard Abigail talking.

“We’re home.” We finished our sundaes before heading back to the farm. Oliver was dragging in the typical sugar crash. “I should go,” I said, not wanting to but figuring it was time. “Can you read me a story?” Oliver asked. “I got a new book that has a whole bunch of stories in it. Just one, please?” I looked at Damion, silently asking permission. “If you have nothing pressing, it’d be great if you can stick around,” he said.