Stolen Moments Pdf Novels & Stories

he teased, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. I slid into the seat silently, too drained_ too numb to fight. And too afraid of what would happen if I tried to defy him. He got in after me, starting the engine with a low growl. As the car sped away from the college and the carnage behind us I stared out the window, numb. I realized it didn't matter if it was Lewis or Aiden. I was just a prize being passed from one monster to another. And monsters never gave back what they stole.

Elena looked back at the burning ruins, the sky above glowing red and gold. For the first time, she understood what The Stolen Pride truly meant — not just a legacy lost or a bloodline broken, but the cost of holding on too tightly to something that was never meant to be owned. She whispered into the rising smoke, “We’ll carry it right this time. Not as pride. As truth.” Alessandro wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Together.” She nodded, leaning into him as the fire consumed the past. And somewhere within the blaze, faint and fleeting, she swore she heard Matteo’s voice once more —

I was trapped, destroyed, and standing over the literal, cold, humming secret of my own stolen

I growle, shoving him hard against the glass wall until he gasps for air. Vance slumps against the glass, defeated and shaking, leaving the dropped journal lying wide open in the mud between our boots. I release his collar with a disgusted flick of my wrist, letting him slide down onto the gravel while my attention snaps downward toward the exposed pages of the fallen book. The dim moonlight filters through the greenhouse roof, illuminating the familiar, precise handwriting scrawled across the open paper entries. My breath catches sharply in my throat as I recognize the unmistakable script immediately, realizing it does not belong to any faculty member or council archivist. I drop to one kne

The moment Cole finished explaining, Amelia burst out laughing. "Really? You just accept whatever baseless accusation someone throws around? Owning an exclusive VIP card signifies a distinguished status, there's no way such a prized possession could be stolen so effortlessly. Even if a thief managed to steal it, it would be discovered almost instantly. Anyway, it wouldn't require you to involve the police. Those reckless enough to steal it always pay a heavy price." Except, of course, for Amelia herself, the unrivaled master of theft. If she wanted to swipe something, it happened so smoothly that no one ever noticed, and catching her was impossible.

The deepest rot of an obsession doesn't show when the thief is quietly copying your walk or hiding behind your name; it erupts in a singular, unhinged scream of pure, concentrated envy when the stolen world is ripped from their fingers, exposing a lifetime of charting your milestones just to burn them down.

I sighed and leaned back and heard something click behind me. Quickly sitting upright, I turned to see what had made the sound and realized that the fake pillow had moved! Another click echoed through the room and this time a compartment opened in the armrest of the enormous cement throne. I took a peek and inside there was a book. An ancient book by the looks of things. I looked at Freya with wide eyes and then looked at the book again.

“And theft.” Gasps broke out across the crowd. I suddenly became lightheaded as I tried to process what was happening. Parker’s smile faltered just for a second. “Let’s not do this here,” Parker said under his breath, stepping closer, trying to keep his composure. “We can talk about this privately—” “No.”Julian turned his gaze fully on him now and the look on his face was cold and unforgiving. “This presentation,” he said into the microphone, “was stolen. From someone who actually did the work.”

It had been returned recently. “Stolen and replaced,” he stated. “Yes.” “And why would anyone replace it?” Lily asked him. “Because the goal of stealing the book was not the book itself.” She extracted it extremely cautiously. Inside the ledger were pages of names and dates. The ink had faded somewhat, but the entries were obviously deliberate. She flipped through the entries until she encountered a dent – a dent created by a piece of paper having been pressed against it for such a long period of time that the paper had become dislodged and was gone.

Amounts that shouldn’t be missing. I didn’t move. I didn’t react— at least not outwardly. But inside, something cold and hard had settled in my chest. Then I saw the total, finalized at the bottom of the screen. $170,000,000. Gone. Not in one move. Not even in a coordinated sequence. Just scattered in fragments, hidden in plain sight. Someone had stolen from me. Repeatedly. And whoever had done this, was a very smart thief. The operations were slow, deliberate and carefully planned.