They Chose Her Novels & Stories

she told me quickly. "No... I'm serious... How was I chosen?" I asked. I want to know how he came about in choosing me. Am I really that good of a choice? Is there something more to it? What does she give in the role of me getting the queen's position without lifting a finger. I haven't even met the guy. Not that it matters. I hear he's hot. "You weren't chosen," she told me. She puffed on her cigarette. "Actually she requested your sister."

A various variation of herself gazed back, one who realized she wasn't just part of someone else's strategy. She had been chosen. Long before she ever knew it. And now, she had to decide what to do with that fact.

She tilted her head slightly to her right with her unchanging, cold smile— implying that I should spit out what’s inside of my mind before she got annoyed. “……” She noticed. This girl… is crazily scary, sharp, and forceful. Before I’m going to say what’s on my mind, I took a deep breath. “Why did you choose me?” I said, “Even though you’d agreed I’m not good enough for you…” Directly, straight to the point. “…I didn’t choose. You are the one who chose to stay.” “What…?” I was dumbfounded. I’m the one who chose to stay…?

Slowly, she turned to Kael, her heart racing as she whispered, “I choose you, Kael.” Kael’s expression softened, and a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. He stepped closer, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm and strong, steadying her as she felt the weight of her choice settle over her. She had chosen him, chosen to step into his world, no matter how dangerous it might be. And there was no going back now. Orion’s shoulders slumped, and she could see the hurt in his eyes, the sadness he tried to hide. But he managed a small nod, accepting her choice, even if it broke his heart.

I was out to get justice for me and Kaylee! Meanwhile, Samuel and Monica were escorted to the VIP viewing stand, where school officials and parents fawned over them with flattery. Samuel tilted his chin upward with an air of superiority, every feature of his face radiating smugness. At the same time, Kaylee had taken her position on the track. She managed a weak smile in my direction, and I waved back in encouragement. In an instant, disaster struck. Milo suddenly rushed onto Kaylee's lane and deliberately stuck out his leg. Caught completely off guard, Kaylee fell forward violently!

she asks. “So happy,” I assure her. “From the day that I met you.” "Even with everything that people put us through?” “Absolutely," I reply. “Once I knew what it was like being with you, I wasn’t going to be able to let that go.” “Is that so?” “Yes,” I reply. “Did I ever thank you for choosing me?” “I chose you?” “You did. Because even though I saw you all the time, it was you who made the first move in that basement.”

And afterward, when they both lay breathless and spent, the terms between them rested between their chests—uneasy, honest, and chosen. She had been cornered. But she had chosen the corner in which to stand. And that choice would become the first rule of the House under her reign

“But you never asked the right question.” Alexander’s eyes darkened. “And what’s that?” Another pause. Then “Why her?” Silence. Heavy. Unavoidable. Because that question had never been fully answered. Not by him. Not by anyone. Isabella’s voice came quieter now. “…Then answer it.” The voice didn’t hesitate. “Because she was chosen.” That word echoed. Chosen. Not random. Not accidental. Chosen. Her chest tightened again. “For what?” she asked. A pause.

“No. I choose her.” The room freezes, if only for a fraction of a heartbeat. Even Malric tilts his head, surprised, as if he had expected hesitation, indecision, a split choice like always. Jax’s claws tighten at her throat—but there’s a pause in the rhythm of his strike. Even he registers it. “I will always choose her,” I say, louder this time, so everyone can hear. “I choose her over everything. Over all of it.” The silence lingers for a heartbeat before the world breaks again.

That he would not vanish if she loosened her grip. “I choose you,” she repeated. And in that moment—held against a body that bore no illusion of gentleness, only constancy—Elizabeth understood what she had accepted. She had stopped begging a god to see her and had chosen the one who never looked away.