Romans & histoires The Forgotten Baldacci Novel

The flashbacks keep coming, and the tension keeps building. And with every new piece of the fraud I uncover, the danger grows closer. Clara is watching me, and the people responsible for the accident are still somewhere in this building or beyond walking freely. And Valerio? He’s getting dangerously close to remembering the woman he once loved more than his own empire. And somehow, I don’t know how much any of us can survive the unraveling of it all.

Dahlia tensed next to me, her breath quick and irregular. I was already aware. I realized the instant the atmosphere changed, the instant the shadows followed his command. The individual in front of us is the head of The Forgotten. It was Castor. Our relative. The betrayer. The banishment. Castor’s piercing stare scanned the battlefield, pausing on me, then on Dahlia. "So," he pondered, his voice rough as stone, "you both have finally come together." A grin played at the corners of his mouth. "What a poetic expression."

Filled with perfect hair and eyes colder than the winter, I knew that it was Margot Steele. The caption was succinct in a way that made my mouth go dry: BREAKING: Steele Matriarch Tied to Fraudulent Merger Funds. I exhaled a single profanity into the dark and feel something ugly and ancient lift inside me, stretching, waking. This is bigger than a sister raised by wolves and a brother returned with teeth. This is the hand that set the first fire and taught the arsonists how to breathe smoke.

The weight of Sienna’s words settled over Elior like a storm cloud, thick with the promise of something far worse than they had imagined. The Forgotten Hand. A name none of them knew, except for her. Elior took a slow breath, steadying himself. “Then tell me.” Sienna shook her head. “You don’t get it. There are things you don’t chase, Elior. Things you don’t dig up because you might not survive what you find.”

He asks in frustration. “I require a brief pause to refresh myself before I can proceed with the distressing account of Nathalia's experience.” Marzia explains. My heart aches as I recount the tragic tale of my daughter's untimely demise. “It was during their expedition in the dense forest, just a stone's throw away from the cozy cabin they had sought refuge in. Little did they know that this fateful hunt for sustenance would forever alter the course of Nathalia's life. At the tender age of sixteen, she found herself thrust into a world of solitude. Bereft of her loyal wolf companion and devoid of the skills necessary to survive on her own,” Marzia says with tears falling down her face.

But the podium in the middle was empty, like the book which stood there was taken. I look over at Colby confused, he only shrugs his shoulders telling me he didn’t have a clue where the other book could be. I take a step closer to the podiums to see what books were left, perhaps that could give us an idea of what the book missing could be called. On the first podium sat a reddish colour book, it was very dusty which tells me no one had picked it up in years to read. I reach over and wipe some of the dust from the cover, this revealing the title. “The Forgotten Truth”.

Her silver eyes reflected the approaching tide. “What happened to them?” The Harvester answered quietly., “They forgot.” Silence followed. The explanation sounded simple. Too simple. The Harvester looked toward the darkness. “We remembered our worlds.”Its voice trembled. We remembered our families. The Forgotten Ones drew closer. “We remembered why we survived.” A pause. “They forgot everything.” The balance tightened. Kael’s eyes narrowed. “And what remained?” The Harvester’s expression darkened. “Hunger.” The answer echoed across existence.