One Of Us Is Back Novels & Stories

Maya iced Anton out too. The four of us—me, Maya, Kylie, and Giselle—ditched him and went out to celebrate. He just trailed behind, dead quiet. While we were out, a message popped up from my old law firm. They wanted me back. Totally caught off guard, I could barely text back—my hands were shaking. After decades, I was back at my desk. The staff was mostly new, but they all knew my name—my photo still hung on the wall of top lawyers.

Only then did he see clearly that the figure on stage wasn't Anna at all. "Anna, Clara, where did you go?" Security hauled Micah out of the concert hall while he unconsciously called out our names. But it was far too late now. We'd long since built better lives. … Seven years later, cold moonlight flooded the streets of Lurich on a winter night. Micah stood outside the glass window of my piano studio, watching me guide a student's fingering under the warm yellow lights. I'd pulled my long hair into a loose bun and was gently rocking an autistic boy's hand over the piano keys.

Still, his strikingly beautiful face caught her eye just as it did last time. Finally, Selene came to her senses and realized that she had gone back in time to the very day she saved Zirion! That was a very shocking and absurd conjecture. If it wasn't because the scene felt so familiar and real, even Selene herself wouldn't have believed it. Selene looked at Zirion, only to see him avert his gaze slightly. His eyes instinctively shifted toward a certain spot. She followed his gaze and found Vanessa standing in the crowd, chatting happily, her smile warm and pleasing.

she murmured softly as she slid into the seat. He closed the door with a quiet click, circling around to the driver’s side. Moments later, the car purred to life, and they eased into the flow of traffic, heading back toward Queens. As the city lights blurred past them, Natalia found herself gazing out the window, her mind spinning with thoughts of Damien, Camila, and the life she’d carefully kept hidden for so long.

It was as if her stupidity fed his ego. One night, around 9:00 pm, I came back from the library and noticed that Sienna still wasn't in the dorm. I figured she was out on another date and probably wouldn't come back at all. Just then, my phone rang, and I saw that it was her. I didn't answer. After all, I knew it couldn't be anything good. After trying to reach me three times, Sienna gave up and dialed for Jessica instead. Jessica was in the middle of a game and answered the call without even looking. "It's not my problem if you don't come back. I don't have time for this."

“I’ll inform you on any update we have.” “I promise we will be back together very soon.” Henry said and Anaya held on to his words for strength.

"I'm sorry." "It's alright." Rosewood replied still looking at the kids' door before turning his attention back to Vontrap. "You have something else on your mind Vontrap. Say it." Vontrap exhaled before asking. "What do you plan on doing?" Vontrap asked after a few seconds of hesitation. Rosewood smiled meeting Vontrap's eyes. "Bringing her back is the best option." "Have you thought of why you want to bring her back?" "What do you mean?" "Is it because of the falling profits and invests or because you really want her back?"

BLURB "Get rid of it." Six years later, those three words still echo in Valentina's chest every time she looks at her daughter's face. Mateo Castillo never wanted a child with the wife he never chose. So she buried the truth, built an empire in secret, and learned to survive on nothing but her own strength. Then he walks in carrying another woman's blood on his shirt, and asks Valentina to fix what he broke. "Who were you talking to?" he demands, eyes narrowed on the laptop she just slammed shut. "Nobody," she lies, hiding five years of secrets in one word. She wants out. He wants thirty days to make his affair look respectable first. She agrees, because she has nothing left to fight f

He removed the words OFFICE COMPROMISE. Below them, he pinned a new sheet of paper. On it, he wrote just three words. THE CIRCLE He stepped back. "This..." He said quietly to the empty room. "...is where the real fight begins." His phone buzzed. One new message. Unknown Number. There was no threat. No warning. Only a single photograph. Eleanor Brooks. Alive. Sitting beside the hooded figure. Both of them looking directly at the camera. Below the image were six chilling words. Now we're ready to talk.