Scarlet Books Novels & Stories

Scarlett's POV “I want you to be my contract wife.” He repeated. Those words sounded strange to my ears. “Excuse me! What do you mean by contract wife, Mr. Cade?” I asked, astonished. "Look, Miss Scarlett, this is purely a business proposition; you are either in or out,” he said dismissively. “This is a good offer for you; you'll be helping me achieve my goal of becoming the CEO of this company, and you'll make a lot of money in the process.”

" Scarlet said, bowed and left the room. When she got outside the door, she crouched down on her knees, and sobbed. "What have you done, Scarlet? What have you done? You've finally lost this job. It was the only way you could gather up money for you treatment. "Now, what are you going to do?" Scarlet asked herself as she bent there, crying. When she was finally able to walk, she moved towards her door, walked into the room and started to pack up her stuff with tears flowing down her cheeks.

This is obviously a full-blown emotional crisis. “Scarlett,” I say carefully, crouching beside her, “What happened?” She lifts her tear-streaked face and wails, “They took it!” I’m taken aback by her vehemence and wonder who’d be stupid enough to take something from Scarlett. “Who? And what did they take?” “My book! The one with all my drawings and the pack stories and the fancy leaf cover and the ribbon spine!” I’ve never seen or heard of this book before right now. “The... what now?”

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.

Scarlett thought for a moment and remembered that there was a Starbucks downstairs. Amanda responded to her command hurriedly, “Okay. You got it. I’ll be right back with your beverage.” “Thank you so much.” Scarlett smiled at her. Before leaving, Amanda walked to the bookshelf, picked a large pile of books, and put them in front of Scarlett. “In case you get bored, here are some books I picked up that are about motherhood. These two are picture books with vivid illustrations, and they’re quite easy to follow.” Scarlett put down the plate and picked up one book from the large pile. “Thank you, Amanda. You’re so sweet and considerate. I really appreciate it.”

Whispers of disbelief and disapproval circulated, creating an undercurrent of tension that mingled with the poignant air of the funeral. Their words, while seemingly private, became a spectacle, with attentive guests catching wind of their bitter exchanges. The funeral, meant to be a respectful farewell, transformed into a stage for familial discord. Aunt Fernanda, undeterred by the sanctity of the moment, continued her verbal assault. "You brought nothing but trouble. Mother would still be with us if it weren't for you," she accused, the venom in her words amplifying the sense of isolation. Leila, fueled by resentment, added fuel to the fire. "Everyone knows she resented having to raise you

But this was not what Caitlin wanted: she needed to heal Scarlet, not kill her. As she finished yet another book and slid it aside, with still no mention of healing anywhere, she began to feel a sense of despair. She lifted the final book on the stack, a small, leather-bound volume with a red spine, entitled De Fascino Libri Tres by Leonardo Vairo. Caitlin summoned her knowledge of Latin, and knew that translated to: Three Books of Charms, Spells and Sorceries.

Jared's study has a nine vast bookshelf, astonishing, there are various types of books, and just like the library, there are classified labels. Scarlet walked forward and backward with one hand on her jawline. In any case, it's still not sleep time. She smiled like a little cat and moved one hand to and fro on the bookshelf. Suddenly, a dim brown bookcase on the shelf grabbed her eye. Scarlet brought down the book, her eyes brimming with curiosity. A book without a title. Also no profile, nothing. It looks like a naval force brown shell. Scarlet couldn't move her eyes from the book, the book seemed to have sorcery power, inciting her to get it.

I shook her hands off me and grabbed my dad's and Erin's hands instead. I said, "Mom, this is the last time I'll ever call you that. I'm not you. I didn't rot my brain reading those stupid romance novels! From now on, the four of us will live happily together. As for you, do yourself a favor and remove those trashy books from your phone!" Seeing that I showed no remorse, she flew into a rage. She cursed at me, saying, "I must have underestimated that vixen's methods! So what if they're married? They can still get divorced!"

Every time an experiment failed, when I was exhausted and my spiritual defenses were at their weakest, Clark would hold me, gently stroking the back of my neck to comfort me. But now I knew. He wasn't comforting me. He was using a special needle to siphon my core talent, my very essence, to be "absorbed" by Layla. He wasn't just stealing my results. He was draining my very soul, drop by drop. My hand was shaking, but not from sorrow. From rage. At the very bottom of the safe lay a scroll. I unrolled it. It was a draft of a blood oath, written in magical ink.