Novel & Cerita What Was Flowers In The Attic About

Chapter 26: The Woman in the Attic The house was silent again. The gunshot had stopped echoing but the smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. It mixed with the copper tang of blood from the dead Cleaner in the study and the sour stench of my own fear. I stood at the bottom of the attic stairs. They were narrow and steep. Dust motes danced in the sliver of light coming from the crack under the door at the top. This was the forbidden zone. The one place Kaelen had forbidden me to enter.

Men started walking in with pots and vases of flowers, filling the living room in a riot of colors and scents. Ten minutes later, I sat in the middle of my sitting room, which now looked more like a flower shop than a home. My arms were crossed, and I scowled. Adrian must think I’m a fool—that flowers could make me fold. I shook my head slowly. Who sends a pregnant woman flowers anyway? I’m starving, and I obviously can’t eat flowers. The doorbell rang again. My legs shot up, thinking maybe Matthew had gone out to get takeout. I moved cheerfully toward the door, excitement bubbling.

She struck harder, screaming words that did not make much sense, but she couldn’t care less as long as the damn flowers were destroyed. The flowers scattered into bits, breaking off and making a mess everywhere. Mackenzie didn’t stop. All of the ruckus outside alerted Charlotte and Felicity inside the apartment, and they hurried outside. Their faces twisted with shock when they met the unfolding scene outside. Felicity gasped in pure horror, watching the terrible state of the poor flowers. She had always cherished plant life, wanting to preserve them as much as she could. She could not bear to see damaged or withered plants. They were her babies, and she would do anything to resuscitate them

he says as I try to support him. I looked up and nearly burst into tears at what I saw. Florence's body pinned to the attic door. The hilt of a blade sticking out of her stomach. The door was ajar. I am like a bull seeing a red flag as I dart towards her. Whoever has done this to her needs to suffer, and I mean suffer. I am so angry as I push past her. “NNNOOO.” a man’s voice cries out from inside the attic. I walked up behind him, about to knock him out. Florence gives a little cough. She’s alive? Thank the goddess she is still alive.

Elaine "Oh, come on! What the hell is this?” I managed a crooked smile, attempting to convey my disapproval as I glanced at Anita, who seemed entertained by the spectacle unfolding before us. This morning, we were greeted by an array of assorted flower bouquets that lined the corridor up to my desk. I couldn't help but roll my eyes and fold my arms, confronted with the floral display that resembled a garden. Every imaginable kind of flower was present, from roses to tulips. The corridor looked like it had been transformed into a florist's shop. All that was missing was a cash register and I would be ready to open this “flower shop.”

Victoria cleared her throat and asked, "Can I ask you something? What's the progress on your father's case?" "Not much," I replied, taking a sip from my cup. "It's become clear that the incident had nothing to do with my father's coffin." "I knew it! I think Jeniece had something to do with it," Victoria exclaimed. "The other night, I took out my coat from the cupboard, and it was the same one I wore at your father's funeral." "I found a flower inside it. Jeniece had mentioned it to me before, and I suspect she placed it there to cause this chaos. This flower is known as the bloom of the dead!

“I told you what I needed to say. Go enjoy your Valentine’s Day gift, little flower.” I blush at the nickname before nodding and heading towards the attic. I hesitate in the doorway, looking at the beautiful little key before sliding it into the lock. The door swings open with a soft ‘click.’

"It’s a bit... tight, Lila. I hope His Majesty doesn't mind sharing a bed that doesn't have a remote control. It’s the only room left." "Tight" was an understatement. The attic room had slanted, low ceilings with exposed oak beams that Adrian had to duck under just to move. There was a single, heavy oak bed that looked like it had been handed down through five generations, covered in a thick, handmade floral quilt. A small window stood open, letting in the sound of crickets and a cool breeze that carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine.