What She Knew Book Novels & Stories

she says I lean back slightly, staring at the ceiling “Something like that.” “What did you do?” I huff out a quiet breath. “Why does it have to be something I did?” “Because it’s always something you do.” Fair but still. “You don’t know that.” “I know you,” she replies. “So what happened?” I stay quiet and that tells her everything. “Oh my God,” she mutters. “Jace, what did you do?” “Nothing she didn’t already know,” I say, that’s not entirely true but it’s not a lie either

I could not hold it in anymore. I shoved her away. She fell to the floor. "Say it. Who's the guy waiting for you at Triumph Hotel?" She froze. Then, unbelievably, she got angry. "Jake, are you crazy? What Triumph Hotel? I've never even heard of it!" Some people don't admit anything until they're cornered. I opened the laptop, logged into her account, pulled up the latest transaction, and dragged her over. "The guy is already setting it up. Look at it yourself."

NOAH'S POV I wasn't looking for a book. I was looking for the reason my life was currently a heap of smoldering ash. I found her in the corner of the law section, tucked between two shelves of leather-bound records. She was sitting on the floor, her back against the mahogany, a single desk lamp casting a harsh light over her. She looked up when my boots hit the carpet, and for a second, the world just stopped turning. I walked into her space, my height cutting off the light until she was looking up at me from the dark.

Seeing Keegan leave made her feel like a child who was abandoned after being caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing. Because Sheera knew her mother—she read people like books. There was no way she hadn't figured out what had happened between herself and Keegan. TWO CHAPTERS TO GO.

After I had paid her back, Holly had tossed aside her college dreams to chase fortunes in Eastbridge City, diving headfirst into the stock market. She thought she would strike it rich with her so-called previous life's wisdom, but the stock market was no child's play. She ended up broke, swallowed her pride, and returned home by train. Our parents urged her to settle down with any bachelor in town, but Holly's spirit was too wild for that. She left, only to resurface in a grim human trafficking scandal. Anthony's army buddy recognized her cries for me and reached out. When I saw her, her eyes pleaded for rescue, but some chains were too heavy for one person to break.

He claimed that he was already married and refused to have another woman. Out of rage, Mabel almost ended her own life in the Larkin residence. But no matter how hysterical she got, he refused to budge. Truth to be told, she had lied about saving his life back then. Someone else had saved him, but she just happened to swoop in and claim the honor. Mabel saw that Joseph's family was well off, so she decided to cling on for security. But now, with her prize about to fly out of reach, she finally snapped. She teamed up with Lisa, slipped something into his drink, and tried to force herself onto him.

she said calmly, stepping closer to my desk, heels clicking softly against the polished floor, “you might want to retract that prayer.” Her voice was smooth. Controlled. Almost bored. “No one else would want to deal with a man like you,” she continued, eyes locked on mine. “Especially if they knew what you’re passing through.” Her gaze dipped. Just for a second. But it was enough. Enough to feel like a blade sliding between my ribs, twisting slowly. Enough to remind me that nothing about her presence in my life was accidental. She knew. Or at least she thought she did. And she wielded that knowledge like a weapon.

They have no idea how wrong. She had written — and this was the one she couldn't stop thinking about now — *I knew what was coming before it came. I knew about TechCorp. I knew about Lisa. I knew about all of it, and I used every piece of that knowledge the way you use a blade. Carefully. With intention.* On their own, without the full story, without the hospital room and the year that had been stolen from her and everything that had been done while she couldn't fight back — those entries read like a confession.

She was going to stop waiting. She was going to start figuring it out. She didn't know how. Didn't know when. Didn't know what it would look like. But she knew one thing. She wanted him. And she was done being scared.

Her thumb moved toward the contact list. She knew whose name she was going to land on before she got there. She knew it the way she knew most things, clearly and ahead of the moment. She had been carrying the thing she knew since the lamp-lit room and the drawer and the photo face-up, and she had been waiting to understand what it required of her, and she was not finished waiting yet. But her thumb was over his name. She looked at the line in the text field. The distance between knowing and being willing to act on what you know.