The Forgotten Baldacci Novel Novels & Stories

Vance sighed, a surprisingly boyish grin brightening up his face as he dreamed of the future. Cull laughed. “Ah. The dreams of forgotten lies to become real lies,” he replied cynically. “The true story is whatever the victor decides to write, and you lost. The losers always rewrite their own histories to make them the victors so no one can ever truly know the truth, as if anyone cares. So now you supposed honourable men can all soon become as corrupted as much as the rest of us again. You know, I could make a tidy sum if I turned you over to the Clergy.” “And have them find out you’ve had dealings with us before, and have knowledge of the last Katrall? You’d be next to me as they bend

I played games and after that, I didn’t know that I fell asleep also. Beauden Zypher’s POV She fell asleep in my arms. I’m so happy that she already fix things with her brother, she looks happier than before. “Coffee?” Her mother gave me coffee. “Thank You,” I said Her mother is in her 50s but they still look alike, Alta got her looks on her father but she also got the looks to her mother. “I couldn’t talk to you yesterday but I want to say thank you, for saving my daughter. I can’t live without her, she’s my life.” She smiled

The old man closed his eyes briefly as if remembering the past. “Twenty years ago, the Monteverde Corporation nearly collapsed because of betrayal inside the company. Everyone abandoned us.” He paused. “Except Antonio Villareal.” Damien remained silent. “He sacrificed everything to protect this family. He even died because of it.” Damien’s expression slowly darkened. “You never told me this.” “Because your father wanted the incident buried.” Valentino coughed weakly before continuing. “But before Antonio died, I made him a promise.” Damien already disliked where the conversation was going.

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."

The bald man was feeling a great sense of remorse. If he had known this would happen, he would have chosen to keep his mouth shut! In that case, he would’ve still made a handsome profit! Now, it had all gone down the drain. The bald man had practically picked up a rock and dropped it on his feet. Soon, the entire hall was filled with chatter. “This is embarrassing… It turns out that Xyla was right…” “I can’t believe that those of us who have been in the antique industry for decades lost to a young girl…”

The black sheep of the Baldwin family, who’d built his own empire instead of fighting for a piece of his father’s. “Well, he certainly made up for the scandal instead of fighting for daddy’s scraps.” Alexander offered his arm. “Might be exactly what you need to forget his nephew.” I ignored his arm, walking past him. “I don’t need another Baldwin man in my life.” I arrived late enough to the Charity Gala that the party had already reached its peak. Everything in the ballroom looked like a dream. Or a nightmare, considering who I might run into tonight. “There’s your target,” Alexander whispered, nodding toward a man standing near the bar. “Nicholas Baldwin.”

A Blackwood remnant. The stranger didn't approach the counter. He stopped near the window, his gaze sweeping over the display cases before landing on her. His eyes didn't carry the blind, animalistic rage of the vanguard she had seen in the ravine; instead, they were cold, calculating, and filled with a quiet, lethal satisfaction. "Elena Vance," the man said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that carried a faint northern accent. "The local registry says you bought this building two months ago. It’s a beautiful property. Very private."

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.

“I didn’t think I needed to.” Elior sat down beside her, the cold stone seeping into his skin. “You knew who they were.” She inhaled sharply but didn’t deny it. “The Forgotten Hand,” Elior continued. “You reacted the moment they were named. You know more than you’ve told us.” A bitter laugh left her lips. “Knowing doesn’t mean understanding.” Elior waited. The fire crackled behind them. Bram murmured something to Rael, but their voices were distant, lost beneath the weight of the conversation unfolding here.