The Grace Year Summary Novels & Stories

My boyfriend, Terry Bolton, comes from a rich family. He has a female childhood friend. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven, but he swore he only loved me and Sarah Horst was just his simp. He asked her to buy us condoms in the rain, but when he saw her soaking wet, he kicked me out. "Why did you take so long to open the door? You know she gets sick easily." My graduation thesis was ruined by Sarah's clumsiness. I asked her to apologize, but he yelled at me. "She's just a little clumsy. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" In the four years that I dated him, I endured again and again until, one day, a DUI hit-and-run case made headlines. Terry kicked my door open while hugging the distressed Sarah. "If you take the blame for her, I'll find the best doctors from all over the world for your mother. After all, you still have me, but if she goes to prison, her life is ruined." Looking at his anxious face, I chuckled. Did he forget that I'm a Harvard law graduate? Screw this relationship. I decided not to endure it anymore. She's going to prison for sure.

My billionaire dad chooses a husband for me. People claim that Sebastian Lambert is a fine gentleman who's absolutely in awe of me. He seems easy enough to deal with, so I agree to the marriage. The wedding is held at the biggest hotel my family owns. On the big day, as I push open the doors in my wedding dress, a bucket of foul-smelling blood comes crashing down on me. The scene inside is even more horrifying. What was supposed to be a pure and romantic ceremony is now decorated with giant spiders and cockroaches. Grotesque clown faces grin at me from the walls. At the altar, there's a black coffin. Sebastian's adoptive sister, Ruth Lambert, strolls over with a group of people. She covers her mouth in fake surprise as she remarks, "Oh my, Claudia, you look like a pathetic mutt right now!" Laughter erupts around me. Holding my anger back, I coldly reply, "All of you, get out." She crosses her arms, arrogantly looking down at me as if she's on some pedestal. "Come on, Claudia. Seb personally asked me to surprise you. I put in a lot of effort to decorate your little wedding. You're telling me to get out? I don't even get a 'thank you'? Do you need me to teach you some manners?" She signals to the people next to her, and two of them step forward, trying to force me to my knees. Stunned for a few seconds, I pull out my phone and call Sebastian. "Is this the so-called surprise you had your sister prepare for me? Forcing me to kneel before her?"

It was the holiday season, so I took my foster daughter, Megan Delgado, to our mansion for a vacation. However, I found out that the property had been occupied by someone else. The woman who opened the door looked at us with an impatient expression. “What do you want? You’re interrupting my daughter’s birthday party. Are you asking for trouble?” For a moment, I thought I might have the wrong house. That was until I noticed the clothing and jewelry the woman was wearing. Every piece was an exact match with what I kept in my wardrobe here. The timing could not be more telling. Just a week ago, my husband, Richie Delgado, said he was planning a surprise for me and Megan. He asked for the spare key to the mansion. I glanced past her at the crowd of party guests in the living room. “So, you’re saying you’re the lady of the house?” She sized me up and noted my simple outfit. “Who else if not me? You? You’ve ruined my daughter’s party. You’d better beg for her forgiveness now!” she said in a condescending tone. When I did not move, she warned, “My husband will be home any minute now. Do you know who he is? He’s the CEO of Beran Corp! A nobody like you can’t afford to cross him!” They were using my mansion to throw a birthday party for his illegitimate daughter. It was quite the surprise indeed!

Someone started a thread on a forum asking, [Do men become stingy with their wives after marriage?] The replies were full of women complaining about how cheap and calculating their husbands were. My husband, however, went in the opposite direction. After we got married, he handed me his payroll card to manage and kept only a few dozen dollars a month for his own expenses, as though he had truly given everything to me and to this family. I shook my head and was about to respond when my mother-in-law's call interrupted me. "Chloe, Josh's god sister is sick. She needs $4,500." My husband immediately slipped an arm around my shoulders and assured me, "Don't worry. We'll use my salary. You won't have to pay a cent." "Alright," I said. Seeing how certain he was, I transferred one dollar to him on the spot and added a note: Medical expenses transferred. When my mother-in-law saw the transfer, she flew into a rage, sharply accusing me of being jealous and petty, even withholding money meant to save a life. I remained unmoved. "That's all there is on the card." She completely lost her temper, threatening to come over and audit how many kickbacks I had supposedly pocketed over the years. I agreed to settle the accounts. That was when my husband suddenly lost his enthusiasm.

At the annual company raffle, I had barely stepped onto the stage when my supervisor, Lily Smith, pressed a crumpled slip of paper into my palm. "A special reward for our top salesperson," she chirped. "Go ahead, open it. Let everyone see." Under the eager gaze of the crowd, I unfolded the note. Written in messy handwriting were the words: Clean the company toilets for three days. The room erupted in laughter. Lily folded her arms, cocked her head, and smirked at me. "Nice, right?" she said. "Everyone knows those sales of yours came from sleeping with old men. Dirty money. To keep things fair, the others get a break, and you pick up a little extra work. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" The laughter surged again, nearly lifting the roof. From the side of the room, my boyfriend, Seth Hoffman, the company's CEO, watched everything unfold. As usual, he said nothing in my defense. They all thought I would fall apart, cry, or make a scene. Instead, I simply gave a calm nod. The very next day, the company was hit with over three hundred property cancellations. Its cash flow collapsed overnight. That was when Lily and Seth rushed to me, demanding I go plead with the buyers. I smiled and said, "No thanks. I wouldn't want to help the company recover and end up with strong numbers again. That might make everyone even more uncomfortable."

In her third year of dating Jackson Hunter, the cool and proud Lumina Walker took out a secret loan of one million dollars to repay his debt. She even resorted to performing stripteases in a bar. Everything changed when she overheard a shocking conversation between him and his friends. "You're ruthless even to yourself! Just to get back at Lumina, you pretended to be a bartender for three years, tricked her into taking out a loan for you, and used her nude video as collateral. You even got her to strip at your bar! " "If she ever found out that you're the loan shark and own the bar she stripped at… She'd probably drop dead from anger right there and then!" another chimed in. Celia Price was Lumina's living nightmare, her tormentor for nine years since their middle school days—relentless bullying, harassment, and abuse. The painful twist? Celia was Jackson's secret love all along—for a decade, to be exact. Yet Lumina didn't cry, didn't fight back. So when her Uncle Howard called and ordered her to marry the mute oldest son of the powerful Morgan family from Crown City, she agreed without hesitation.

After two years of being neglected in her marriage, Alison Reese finds a spermicidal suppository under the bed in the master bedroom. In that moment, she finally understands that she isn't Erik Hale's wife. She's the third wheel between him and Monique Shore. When her uncle falls gravely ill, all she asks for is a single pill. Erik agrees to help, then tosses the matter to his assistant. The assistant hands Alison a fake. When life and death hang in the balance, an unexpected visitor appears in the hospital room. He's strikingly handsome and gives off an air of effortless privilege. He claims to be Theodore Statham, a friend of Alison's cousin, Noah Reese. But she knows every one of Noah's friends. Every single one—except him. Theodore goes with her on a search for the medicine, so she no longer has to grovel and beg for it. On a hurricane night, when her house is flooding, he carries her out of the water. The first thing he says is, "Don't be scared. I'm here." Every time Theodore talks about the future, he makes sure there's a place for Alison carved out there. She doesn't understand why a man like him, untouchable and divine, is willing to stay by her side like a shadow. One day, Alison asks Theodore, "What is it you want from me?" He raises an eyebrow. "I want you to walk my dog with me every day. No skipping." On the day her divorce is finalized, she walks out of the courthouse to see him standing at the entrance with the dog on a leash, waiting for her. In that instant, a memory surfaces. Every time she looks for Noah in the high school building, she sees an aloof-looking guy in a mask standing in the distance. She thinks he hates her. But now, she knows he just doesn't dare to look at her. He's afraid one look will give him away.

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.

In a world full of craving wolves she couldn't roam around like an innocent rabbit in the den's of her predator because she knows it too well, that there is a certain big bad wolf preying on her. Waiting to devour every inch of her body. But instead of devouring her in a torturous way, her predator devour her in a more pleasurable and sensual manner. And she's the prey that is a willing victim. She's a prey bewitching her predator with her innocence, making her predator, the big bad wolf, breaking the rules. [English Book Version of Breaking Rules by Gothic Grace]

Rowan Priest is known by all feared by all. The mere frown on his face causes grown men to pee their pants. Grace Wilson a sweet, innocent twenty-one year old girl sold by her parents to pay for their debt. Rowan buys Grace from the Auction house. But what does he plan to do with her once he has her?