Elena Gilbert Diary Novels & Stories

She moved with a purpose of her own, her nimble fingers carefully navigating through the remnants of Kiana's stuff. Gilly's eyes fell upon a worn diary tucked away in a corner. A decision flickered in her eyes, and without a second thought, she rescued the diary from the impending purge. She clutched it to her chest, hiding it from other people's eyes. Kiana had kept a diary since she was a child. The diary held memories and secrets that only Kiana knew, and Gilly felt a sense of responsibility for protecting them. She also knew that one day her Luna would return.

And once it was a bit more clean, she decided to open the black notebook. Eleana's eyes widened in shock and amazement when she found out that it was her great Grammie's diary, back in the fifties! She decided to sit at the nearest chair, and started reading Great Grammie Miranda's diary... "January 8, 1958."

she said, her voice crisp and devoid of her usual housekeeper's warmth. ​"Mrs. Gable?" Elena asked, her brow furrowing. "How did you get down here?" ​"I've lived in this house longer than any of you," the woman replied. "I know paths that even Claire forgot. And I have something that wasn't in the diary." ​She handed the envelope to Lucas. He opened it, pulling out a set of photographs. They weren't of the Vances. They were of Senator Sterling, younger, standing in front of the village clinic, his arm around a woman who looked hauntedly like Elena.

Well, I only beat her to it. She told me everything I needed to know about Ronan. His likes, dislikes, his taste in food… Everything that made him Ronan Simpson was recorded in that diary of hers. Elena thought she hid it well enough, but she couldn’t hide anything from me. Nothing under a lock was ever hidden from Darcy Taylor. She led me to the box, and I took the painting, memorizing her love confession, and adding a few teardrops to make it work, and viola!

Elena returned to fetch the tray on the table. “Why wasn't she with her peers?” Ary asked Elena. Her eyes danced as she answered. “Ruby is one little explorer. She visits the kitchen whenever she can to learn whatever she can about food. This was just one of our private appointments.” Her expression suddenly shifted, and she gestured emphatically. “It doesn't impact her other activities’ schedules.” Then, a soft blush rose to her cheeks as she became conscious of giving an explanation where he hadn't asked. Her eyes stayed briefly on his face, trying to gauge his reaction. However, he remained unreadable.

His fingers are cold. They found something, he says. In her apartment. A diary. Years of entries. Leather-bound. Hundreds of pages. She has been planning this since before Eleanor was born. She wrote about you. About me. About Eleanor. About every detail of our lives. She knew what we ate for breakfast. She knew when we went to sleep. She knew when we fought. She knew when we made love. She knew everything. She knew things we forgot ourselves. I look at Evelyn. You have been watching us for years.

Gilbert blinked as he spoke, "I… I only did it to get back at Damien. I told Alondra about him and Lyriel secretly kissing and she… she suggested the plan." The chairman glared at him with disgust. "Leave my sight." Gilbert lowered his head and bowed slightly before retreating. …… After helping the chairman to his room, Eleanor later went to Gilbert’s quarters. She pushed the door open and found him smoking heavily, the room filled with the choking smell of cigarettes smoke. His eyes were bloodshot, and the ashtray was overflowed. "Explain yourself," Eleanor hissed. “What nonsense did you drag me into this time?"

“I’m Caleb. Welcome.” Then he stepped past me close enough that his cologne hit me and his arm brushed mine sending electricity straight to my clit. He walked off without another word like I was nothing. The familiar sting hit deep. Same old shit. Pretty boys never saw past my face. But I shoved it down clenching my jaw and followed Lisa to the filing cabinets. “Over here is where we keep the physical records,” Lisa said, pulling open a drawer. “Digital is on the shared drive but some clients still want paper.

"Funny. I don't remember our English syllabus including chapters about a guy breaking his knuckles for you, Gilbert. Should I be flattered, or should I charge you royalties for using my life story as your muse?" ​Eloise’s face instantly went scorching hot, and she looked down at the keys, her hands balling into fists. "Shut up, Weller. I can write about whatever I want." ​"Oh, I see how it is," I continued, my voice dropping into a softer, lower register that completely stripped away the teasing edge, replacing it with a sudden, heavy gravity. I reached out, my uninjured left hand gently sliding over her hands on the keys, stopping her from pulling away. "The girl who acts like she can't sta

Below the photograph, four typed words: Don't come back for them. And below that, a number — Cooper Hale's direct line. Nothing else. Elena sat at Margot's kitchen table in Geneva on a cold November morning and she looked at the photograph for a long time. She looked at the woman laughing. At the child with his fists in the air. At the man holding the woman's hand with the easy certainty of someone who had stopped performing and arrived, finally, at the thing itself.