The Second Story Novels & Stories

The question at 1million dollar is; how I became this radical, sceptical, and realistic. The change wasn’t radical it was gradual; it started when i was ten yrs old. We were living happily in our two story building, my parents was minimalist, so our house was very simple. You won't find a picture on our walk or any other decorations. Our story building provide a middle ground between single story and two stories houses, so that potion of the house include a secondary story living area. The extra half is used for additional bedrooms. The master suite and living room have high ceiling, making it airy and open.

“I’m here to decide what I can live with.” Lady Serephine’s hand slid from her belly to the edge of her gown, fingers smoothing fabric as if Elowen’s words were merely noise. “Decide,” she echoed softly. “But remember, Lady Elowen. Second wives don’t get to rewrite the story. They only get to accept the ending.”

stood for something other than Bed and Breakfast. The End. Look forward to the Part 2 of this particular story

The blueprints covered the kitchen table, edges curling, the paper soft from being folded and unfolded too many times. Alex had spread them out an hour ago, weighing down the corners with coffee cups and the takeout menus that had been propping up the table leg. Vincenzo stood across from him, his arms crossed, his eyes moving over the lines and measurements like he was looking for something that wasn't there. "This is the building," Alex said, tapping a finger on the corner of the page. "Twenty-three stories. Glass front. Security on every floor. A vault in the basement that's supposed to be earthquake-proof, fire-proof, and, according to the specs, burglar-proof."

Coffee spilled everywhere, instantly filling the air with the cloying sweetness of vanilla. The entire cafe fell silent. Lindsay looked back and forth between Lionel and me, dazed. Lionel remained standing at the doorway, as if nailed to the spot. I slowly rose to my feet and walked toward him. The spilled coffee snaked across the floor by his feet, like a dream that had never truly belonged to me. I stopped in front of him and, for the last time, looked up above his head. In first place was Lindsay, in second place was his mother, and third—me.

Just the calm of a man who had calculated everything three steps ahead. He finally turned to me. That gaze—dark, deep, and a little sly—made me bite my lower lip without realizing. “If I weren’t Reagan Russo…” he murmured, leaning his head back against the seat. “...and if you weren’t Tara Moguel, always Tiara’s backup… this story would’ve been a cheap romance classic on TV.” I scoffed. “Thanks for the reminder.” He laughed. Not loud. But deep and... damn it, tempting. “You’re welcome.”

“You have a guest downstairs.” “A guest?” I repeated. I turned to Mira. “I will be right back, okay?” She nodded. I turned to Marie. “Finish up. I will join you shortly.” I walked downstairs slowly, my mind racing. No one knew about this penthouse. This was my second place in Rochester. Even the press did not know about it. Nora was the only friend I had, and she would not come this early. That’s if she knew the address. As I reached the last step, I saw him.

Octavia Everly wanted to follow, but Ronan went upstairs directly, and the well-trained servants intercepted her. Octavia Everly was escorted to a guest room while the servants arranged the place. "Is Ronan's room on the second floor?" Octavia Everly asked curiously. "Yes, the Master and Madam's room is on the second floor," the servant answered truthfully. What? Octavia Everly's eyes almost shot out fire. That wretched Lyra was staying here too? She snorted through her nose. Sooner or later, Ronan's wife would be hers. Lyra should wait and see!

She wouldn't be able to look at herself in the mirror if she took her own baby's life. “Where do you live? Please can you tell me Madeline!” Madeline continued to bit her lip more and more to reduce the pain but it only got worse. She was becoming frantic and her vision was already getting blurred. “...C-close to.... twelve s-street d-downtown. Dr-apes building...” She couldn't bear the pain anymore. Her head was already spinning and all she could think of was her baby and the trail of blood around her before she passed out.

“Follow me.” The long-haired woman started walking towards it, followed by her close friend. They were up the stairs a few minutes later, carrying a tray containing a cup of coffee and a sandwich. When he arrived on the second floor, Abby opened the glass door, which was an outdoor area, because there were many tables and chairs. Before they arrived at the area, it turned out that there were already several customers occupying them, both indoors and outdoors. "What was wrong with you? Why do we have to go up to the second floor and—"