The Parting Glass Book Novels & Stories

He stared intently at my face; the contempt and disdain in his eyes was long replaced by shock and disbelief. Just then, the doctor walked in holding an autopsy report, his tone tinged with regret. “This is Carol’s autopsy report. “Her chest cavity was pierced by glass shards, directly rupturing her heart. “The wound appeared minor on the surface, but the damage was severe, leading to massive post-injury bleeding. “If she had received timely medical attention, she could have survived. What a pity...” “Heart... pierced...” Mom murmured these words repeatedly, her legs giving way as she nearly collapsed.

The smoke-claws didn’t just touch the monitor; they rewrote the physics of the glass, turning the reinforced screen into a liquid portal of necrotic shadow. I felt the intrusion hit my stone ribs before the hand even cleared the frame—a jagged, high-frequency violation that tasted of the Second Prime’s lingering spite.

Lifting the worn book, her lashes began fluttering behind her crystal lenses as she read the paragraphs: But there was one—a night blooming cereus—which was a particular favorite of Grace’s, and which, even after she knew she had not long to live, she hoped she would be spared to see bloom. But when she perceived she was failing so rapidly—quietly, peacefully, sinking to rest—she said—

The click of the bolt unlatching made both men flinch as the door popped open. The stale, dusty air carried with it the musty smell of old books as it leaked from the room. The stained glass window that faced them was the only one he’d seen left unbroken and it occurred to him that the inside of the room hadn’t seen a living soul in a thousand years. “No one’s been in here all this time. Amazing.”

[Silk Against Glass] The Zero Layer was a house of glass, but it felt like a tomb of ice. In the wake of the drawing-room collision, the air in the estate remained charged with the ozone of Dante’s presence and the lingering, floral poison of Elena Moretti-Vane.

#PagesI'llDeleteLater" THE END. ------------------ Hey guys, Thank you all so much for reading this book THE GLASS WIFE. Thank you for your time, energy, money😂, I do not take it for granted. To everyone that commented, gifted, sent out gems, (If you haven't, please do😏) thank you all so much. I appreciate. But this is not the end, I'll be writing more books, improving myself and I hope to see you there too! Especially on my current book, CHOKEHOLD. Updates there will be now more frequent. Thank you everyone! Much Love 😘😘😘

The night after Adrien read through the sealed file marked “Mila Everhart,” he couldn’t sleep. The details haunted him ... the trial, the psychiatric evaluations, the missing months, the falsified names. And above all, the note she received before entering Halden: “You don’t deserve freedom. I’ll find you.” Now, she sat across from him in the Glass Room, her back tense, fingers interlocked on her lap. The light between them was soft, filtered by the etched glass panels around the room. Adrien didn’t bring his notebook this time. He came only to listen.

A fight was what he wanted and a fight was exactly what she would give him. * * * And so ends book one of 'That Girl In Glasses' Please stick around for book 2:) Stay beautiful. XO, CJ 💚

Elaine spoke the words down into the glass; the magic seemed to hear her, and as she gave a tug, the lid lifted. The book beneath the glass peered through Elaine. The volumes’ binding was smooth leather, and the stitching was gold. Long, smooth letters were intricately painted across the front, and her hand brushed them softly. It was the most precious book in the world. Reaching down, she pulled it out and flipped to the page she desired. There it was in thick black letters, the word luck. The pages of the book were filled with names and places, a guide to every gifted being in the land. It was centuries old and was only written on by the top magistrate himself, the king’s second in command

I reached the desk and touched the journal. The moment my ink-fingers touched the paper, the room changed. The red light vanished, replaced by a cold, clinical white. The girl’s bedroom walls didn't dissolve; they turned into **Glass**. Outside the glass, I saw thousands of people. They weren't "Shareholders" in gold suits. They were normal people. Teachers, students, parents, workers. They were all holding books. They were all reading. And they were all reading **Her**. "She's not the Reader," I realized, the horror dawning on me. "She’s a character too. She’s the 'Reader' in a story about someone who reads."