Vow Notebook Novels & Stories

It was the total opposite of the look I gave when I stepped out and found them prepping for my wedding. Time moved forward, but I felt completely out of sync. By the time I got to class, I was still in a fog. I stared blankly at my professor while he lectured about—actually, I couldn’t even tell you. My notebook was open, pen in hand… but I wrote absolutely nothing. It felt like my thoughts were walled off, locked inside a room I couldn’t open.

Paolo sat with his back to the camera. Probably crying. I clicked out, not wasting another second on his meltdown. Next to me, Marco lifted his phone. He slid my hand onto his waist, grinning. "Aurora, I put in hours at the gym yesterday. Wanna see the results?" My fingers traced his side, feeling the shiver ripple through him. I smiled, kissing my way down.

Juliet sneered, "With your stuff? If you can manage not to make us lose too badly, I'll be grateful." With that, Juliet gathered his papers and left the room. With the department head gone, the others saw no reason to stay either. Serena remained seated, unfazed. She casually sketched in her notebook. In no time, a simple yet elegant blueprint emerged. Anyone witnessing this would surely be amazed. It was a stroke of genius—each effortless line a masterpiece. In the CEO's office, Damien was repeatedly reviewing the documents in his hand, feeling that something was missing, a significant flaw.

And there he was again. The same face. The same observer. The same silent presence. Richard frowned. "Do you recognize him?" Elena shook her head. "No." But Victor clearly had. Which meant the notebook mattered. She reached for it. The cover was worn. The pages filled with notes. Dates. Locations. Names. Observations. Nothing organized enough to function as evidence. Everything organized enough to function as a map. She turned pages slowly. Several entries referenced meetings. Others referenced companies. A few contained handwritten warnings.

I reached for the one thing that had been mine since the beginning: the Void. I didn't target the monster. I targeted the space between his hand and Leo’s throat. I focused all my hate, all my memories of being a maid, and all the pain of the silver blade Sasha had put in my back. "Delete!" I shrieked. A hole of pure nothingness opened in the air. It didn't hurt Leo, but it erased the First Alpha's grip. Leo fell, hitting the soft grass with a thud. He was unconscious, but he was breathing.

I murmured under my breath. Several folders later, I finally found what I had been looking for. Voss, Isabella. My heartbeat instantly accelerated. "Please don't be another dead end." I opened the file carefully. The first page contained only basic information. Name: Isabella Voss. Position: Household Tutor. Duration of Service: Four years. I quickly turned the page. The next several documents contained routine information. There were performance reports, payment records, schedules, and administrative notes. Nothing about them seemed unusual. Then I reached the final section and my eyes widened.

"And as I mentioned earlier, I have another piece of wonderful news tonight… actually, make that two." Mr. King stood silently beside him, his face unreadable, while Uncle Matthew smiled from ear to ear. What was funny was that Brandon and Nicole were long forgotten, standing off to the side as all the attention shifted to Mr. King. That was the kind of influence he carried. "We are delighted to announce that Watson Group is going to have the King Corporation as a business partner." Applause erupted at the announcement. Just as I had suspected.

She had been in this study for a significant amount of time and the evidence of it was written all over the room in a language only I could read. I settled into the chair and crossed one leg over the other. I had nothing pressing tonight. Pack business was handled. Reports reviewed. Rowen had taken care of the rest. I had time and I had curiosity and the most interesting thing in Vordheim was currently folded under my desk pretending not to exist. I was in absolutely no rush. My eyes moved around the room slowly. Thinking. What was she looking for. The photograph had clearly caught her attention this morning, I had watched her eyes land on it for exactly two seconds before she pulled them aw

"Flag any subsequent submissions from the Elara Voss identity. Position data only. No interference. No approach." He hung up. He looked at the glowing screen for another long moment. Then, with a slow click of his mouse, he saved the P*F to a highly encrypted, private digital folder that held, until now, only a single scanned image of a sticky note with a line of code on it. He titled the new file: Voss, Elara — JEBR — Vol 42. Found you, he thought. It wasn't a feeling of corporate triumph. It was a dark, raging spark of something he was still desperately trying to learn the name of.