The Good House A Novel Novels & Stories

The moonlight faded. Morning light broke through. Their wedding anniversary had officially arrived. There would be flowers, a romantic dinner, all the usual fanfare. But what Grace couldn’t stop staring at was the key in her palm—the one Raphael had already given her the night before. The real gift. Her mind was consumed now with how to design their new five-story home, complete with a courtyard and underground garage. After dinner, she went to see the house again. Her first official photo with it captured her standing in the grand foyer, still wearing her bold, red-and-blush evening gown.

Given Rolland's carefree personality and solitary living, things were often misplaced, requiring her considerable effort to organize them properly. By the time she stepped out of the compact apartment, it was already approaching afternoon. She made her way straight back to the mansion, feeling a subtle pull towards the place she could call home, no matter how much she resisted. As she entered the house, it struck her as unusual that the atmosphere was so quiet upon opening the door. Considering she hadn't returned the previous night, she had sent a text message to Maria, their maid, informing her not to come today. There shouldn't be anyone else present in the household. Adjusting her shoes,

The doors behind me closed with a quiet but final sound that made my chest tighten. I had seen large houses before. But this wasn't it. It was an empire . Hawthorne House was nothing like the places I had cleaned before. The floor beneath my shoes wasn't tile or cheap wood,it was polished white marble that reflected the towering chandeliers . The walls were lined with towering columns and oil paintings framed in gold. Everything looked pristine, untouched like dust was too afraid to settle . I felt like I had accidentally wandered into a place I didn't belong. Everything gleamed.

Sloane She lived in a townhouse on the Upper East Side. Of course she did. Four stories. Dark brick. Window boxes with flowers that were probably tended by someone other than Margaret Rowe herself but that looked exactly like the kind of flowers a woman like Margaret Rowe would choose. Everything about the outside of the building said old money in the way that old money never had to announce itself because it had been there long enough that announcing it would have been redundant. Beckett rang the bell.

"We must leave a child for Freda." I ate my meal silently, my heart feeling like it had been torn apart. "Timothy is such a good man." Phillip suddenly looked at me. "Not every husband can be so... tolerant." He deliberately emphasized the word 'tolerant', his eyes full of mockery. Carrie glanced at me coldly. "Timothy has no talent, but he's obedient." Fiona immediately defended me, saying, "Mom, don't say that. Timothy is hardworking." Henry scoffed. "Hardworking? What can a normal employee provide for you, Fiona? Phillip drives a Ferrari and lives in a villa, while Timothy can't even afford a decent watch."

I mean there’s no way that ghost are real right? With that in thought, Blaine decided to head downstairs and get a glass of water. He pass by the hallways and notice that there’s a lot of painting in this house. He never know of this fact because eversince he move in this house, he never really look around. He will go at work when the sun is not yet rising and he will go home late at night. Plus the fact that they rarely turn on the lights so he didn’t really have the chance to saw the paintings that are hanging in the wall.

I felt Damian restrained footsteps follow behind and i continued walking till I stopped at a door halfway down the hall and pushed it open without looking back. The room beyond had once been a private study. Now it served as an overflow library for volumes too fragile or too politically inconvenient for the main collection. A single lamp burned on the desk near the window. The rest of the space sat in layered shadow. Tall shelves. A low fire that someone on staff had lit earlier and left to burn down. Two armchairs facing each other across a dark rug.

I let out a cry. The footsteps behind are louder and are moving faster. I look behind me in the darkened hallway, waiting for whatever’s behind me to appear in the yellow dim light. I wait there anxiously, the nerves in my body make me almost want to vomit. The footsteps stop just before the light, I still can’t see whatever it is as it waits in the darkness. No sound is heard, the air around grew intense, my nerves were all over the place as I stared into the darkness in front of me. Just then the light above blew out letting out a loud pop. From behind I can feel the presence of someone. I can feel someone breathing on the back of my neck as I sit there too terrified to look behind me. “We

June June was someone who had a rough time in school. She was not too sharp with books yet not so bad. But she was in a place where people, were judged by academics and she wasn't given enough opportunity to do anything, there were people pulling her down frequently. People around were too shallow to let her be. She was that unnoticed girl who was like invisible to everyone. Her presence din't really affect anyone but nor did her absence. She thought she wouldn't make any friends in her life ever. Yet in her final two years of High School she managed to make pretty decent friends. She loved and cherished memories of those awesome people. For her love was something magical, she thought when s

Shashank was lost in his memories when his assistant's voice came, "Boss, it's time for our flight. We have to leave for Uttarakhand in some time." Hearing his assistant's words, Shashank nodded yes and left from there. But while coming out of the hotel, Shashank's eyes fell on a novel lying at the book shop in front. That novel was attracting his attention again and again. Due to which he could not resist and he went and bought that novel. Never before had he been interested in a novel. But that novel was attracting his attention again and again. But as soon as he saw the cover page of that novel, he was surprised. This was the same novel about which Tanya had told him.