Novel & Cerita What Did Regina Write In The Burn Book About Herself

“Let’s go.” Together, they walked outside. As they moved towards the waiting car, Dame Rossa’s final words sounded in Regina’s mind. A strong feeling of shame and embarrassment washed over her. Nothing in this family was ever as simple as it appeared. Who the hell did Dame Rossa think she was? Regina asked in her mind. What gave her the guts to fix her up with a stranger when she (Regina) was not handicapped?

Eloise POV: I turned my gaze on both of them now, my fury razor-sharp. "You let her—this conniving little witch—poison your mind against me without even giving me a chance. Not once did you ask. Not once did you care." I stepped closer, eyes locked on Regina. "Yes, I worked in a brothel. But never—not for a second—as a prostitute. I couldn’t stomach that life. I didn’t last a week before I walked out and never looked back."

I whispered. Adrian sat beside me, pulling my feet into his lap. “Then we start editing.” “You think this can be fixed?” “I think,” he said, “you are not a headline. And you sure as hell are not the villain.” Elena gave my hand a squeeze. “You’re Aria freaking Laurent. The girl who turned heartbreak into sugar, who came back from the dead with a bakery empire and a closet full of linen. Vivienne can posture all she wants. But you? You’re the story people remember.”

I was baffled by her reaction, so I simply looked up at her and asked, "Why are you crying?" Regina wiped her tears and remained silent as she watched me fidget with the phone. She broke down again when she noticed that the lock screen password was actually her birthday. She couldn't help but question how she could have done this to me again, despite knowing how innocent and kind I was. She wondered how she could have been so foolish as to look for a stand-in for me. Upon seeing me tap into the voice recording app, Regina hesitated for a moment before asking, "What's the matter?"

Even the bishop, once warm and jovial, began requesting odd reports about Isabella’s daily activities. And Catherine—despite her physical absence—was ever-present. She had sent a parcel to the church. Inside was a book. No note. No name. Just the title embossed in gold: "The Altar We Burned." It was written in Isabella’s handwriting. But she had never written such a book. Arthur’s hands shook as he turned the pages. They detailed dreams Isabella had shared only with him. Secrets she hadn’t spoken aloud. The book was a threat.

I downed a swig of the fiery drink, feeling it scorch my throat. However, it did nothing to calm the storm inside. "I need to hit the restroom." I bolted for the bathroom and drenched my face with cold water, staring at the ghostly reflection with red-rimmed eyes. I locked eyes with my reflection, silently telling myself, "Keep it cool, just keep it cool. If you don't confess, no one will know." However, every time I blinked, I saw Winter as she was at that concert. I lingered in the bathroom for a solid 10 minutes, dragging my feet before I finally stepped back out.

"But first, you need to tell me how you did it. And what were you and Regina talking about? Someone died? Who died, and why did they die?" I froze. I was a bit thrown off by his barrage of questions, but I remained calm and replied, "I don't need everything you own. As for the questions you just asked, I can answer them, but only on one condition." "Go ahead." Cyril raised a brow. "Agree to the bet with Regina and make sure her reputation gets destroyed completely tomorrow." There was a ruthless glint in my eyes. In my past life, she put me through endless suffering. I was hit by cars countless times, struck by falling flowerpots, and even ended up with serious illnesses.

The paper curled the moment it kissed the flame. Scarlet didn’t hesitate. She pressed the notebook harder into the candlelight, watching as the edges blackened, the ink blistering and fading into nothing. The words she’d bled onto those pages...plans, filth, fear, secrets...warped and vanished in a hiss. Ronan was still struggling with his shirt, fabric caught over his head like a damn blindfold. She tossed the burning book into the fireplace. And screamed.

“This is something we’ve never seen before in the world, two minds that are intertwined with each other on a basis of loss and grief and trauma, because that’s what binds them both. The trauma they share-“ “If it’s true that he abandoned everything and set that house on fire with that man inside, we can’t tell what he’s capable of doing next but it won’t be good” ~ FIVE WEEKS EARLIER Regina had stood but was quick to pick up a scent, her son’s scent amidst that of ash. Of course she would recognize his scent after bearing him for close to the nine and a half months that she did. Perhaps that was when the problem started, from his prolonged stay in the womb but that’s a topic for another day,

Regina covered her face with the napkin she had in her hand. “That’s not what I was going to ask. We can discuss that later.” Owen took the napkin away so he could look at her directly. “You left your notebook at the house that day.” Regina stared at him, and the color drained from her face as realization dawned on her. “You read the notebook?” Owen nodded. “Yeah, it had my mom’s medical and progress information, so I couldn’t help but browse through it.” “Did you see anything else?” Regina felt scared, not because there were drawings of Owen in the notebook, but because of her secret.