Novels by sniper sniper

The morning sunlight streamed through the glass façade of the office building, catching on the sleek chrome details and mirrored windows. I stood at the entrance, clutching my bag like it was a lifeline, my nerves jangling with both excitement and apprehension. This was supposed to be a new beginning. A chance to prove myself in a competitive corporate environment. Walking into the marble-lined lobby, I took a deep breath and tried to steady my racing thoughts. I reminded myself why I was here: to build a career, to establish my independence, to move forward. “Miss Daniels?” I turned to see a young receptionist with a warm smile. “Yes, that’s me,” I replied. “Welcome to Grayson Holdings. I’ll take you to meet your supervisor,” she said, gesturing for me to follow. My stomach churned slightly as we stepped into the elevator. I was no stranger to first-day jitters, but this felt different. There was a strange sense of foreboding I couldn’t shake. “Your office will be on

The dining room felt unbearably small, the air thick with unspoken tension. The table was set beautifully, with my mom’s favorite floral china and Richard’s polished silverware, but no amount of elegance could mask the growing discomfort in the room. I sat across from Elliot, barely able to lift my eyes to meet his. Every clink of silverware against plates seemed to echo louder than it should, and the conversation was stilted, filled with forced laughter and polite smiles. Mom was oblivious to the tension or maybe she was deliberately ignoring it. She leaned forward, her eyes bright as she passed a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Isn’t this wonderful? All of us here together, like a real family.” Elliot smiled faintly, the expression almost convincing. “It’s great, Mrs. Daniels” “Oh, please, call me Mom!” she interrupted, her cheeks flushing with excitement. Elliot hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Okay... Mom.” Richard chuckled, patting Elliot on the shoulde

The sound of laughter echoed down the school hallway, sharp and cruel. It had been years since I’d walked those halls, yet the memory felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. I could still see the linoleum floors, scuffed and dull from decades of restless students. The faded lockers lined the walls, each one painted a peeling blue. My own locker was on the far end of the hallway—a place I used to dread walking toward. That day had started like any other. I arrived early, hoping to avoid the crowds and the prying eyes that always seemed to find me. I kept my head down as I moved through the hallways, my books clutched tightly to my chest like a shield. I should have known better. I turned the corner and saw them—Elliot and his friends. They were lounging against the lockers, their laughter ringing out like an alarm bell. My pulse quickened. I tried to make myself smaller, pressing against the wall as I passed. But it was too late. “Hey, loser!” Elliot’s voice cut th

The evening was already a swirl of emotions—excitement, nervousness, and a faint sense of dread I couldn’t quite shake. I clutched the edge of my chair as my mother bustled around the dining room, arranging plates and utensils with a level of enthusiasm I hadn’t seen in years. “You’re going to love him,” he said for what felt like the tenth time. “He’s really grown into a wonderful young man. I think you two will get along great.” I tried to match her smile, but my gut told me otherwise. My mind raced with possibilities. Who was Richard’s son? What was he like? Would he resent this sudden blending of families as much as I feared I might? Before I could dwell too much on it, the sound of a door opening caught my attention. Mom lit up like a firework. “There they are!” Behind her, someone else stepped into view. I froze. The air seemed to shift, growing heavier, colder. My heart dropped like a stone as recognition hit me with the force of a tidal wave. Standing there, impo

The sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the cafe, reflecting off the polished wooden tables and onto my untouched cup of coffee. The bittersweet aroma filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation around me. I glanced at the text message again, the words glowing on the screen like a beacon of change: "Don’t be late for dinner. I have something important to tell you." It was from my mom. I should have been used to her cryptic messages by now, but this one had me nervously tapping my fingers against the rim of the mug. Something about it felt... different. I shifted in my seat, my thoughts flickering back to the past few years. It had been just Mom and me for as long as I could remember. My father left when I was a kid, and since then, we’d built a life together, a team of two against the world. Mom had always been my rock—steady, supportive, and fiercely protective. Even when I struggled during high school, through the endless teasing and isolation, she wa