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In her 37th bestselling novel, Danielle Steel tells the compelling story of a woman who must struggle to overcome a shattering betrayal, and the cruelest kind of malice.
At seventeen, the night of her mother's funeral, Grace Adams is attacked. It is not the first time, and a brutal crime ensues.
And to everyone's horror, Grace will not tell the truth. She is a young woman with secrets too horrible to tell, with hurts so deep they may never heal. She is also beautiful enough for men to want her no matter how much she does not want them. Whatever the outcome, Grace Adams will have to live with whatever happened during those terrible years. After a lifetime of being a victim, now she must pay the price for other people's sins.
From the depths of an Illinois women's prison to a Chicago modeling agency to a challenging career in New York, Grace must carry the past with her wherever she goes. And in healing her own pain, she reaches out to battered women and children who live a nightmare she knows all too well.
When Grace meets Charles Mackenzie, a New York lawyer, she has found a man who wants nothing from her-except to heal her, to hear her secrets, and to give her the family she so desperately wants. But, with happiness finally within her grasp, and precious loved ones to protect, Grace is at her most vulnerable-in danger of losing everything to a vicious tabloid press and an enemy from her past, an enemy bent on malice at all costs.
With rare insight and power, Danielle Steel writes this extraordinary woman's story, portraying her struggle to triumph over malice and betrayal, and to transform a lifetime of pain into a blessing for others. Revealing both the stark reality of domestic abuse and the healing power of love, Malice, is more than superb fiction. It is a piece of life.
turn?” Grace’s heart was pounding as she got on the table, but the exam was medical, and no worse than most of what she’d been through, it was just humiliating going through it with an audience, and half a dozen of the other women seemed to be eyeing her with interest. “Pretty cute … here, little fishie, swim to Mama … let’s play doctor … can I take a look too?” She seemed not to hear them at all as she followed the rest of the line to the other side of the room and stood waiting for further
at her. “What’s your name? Marilyn Monroe?” She made fun of the way Grace had sounded. “Sorry … asthma …” “Oh poor baby … you take anything for it?” She sounded concerned and Grace didn’t want to be rude and get her angry. The big blonde was tough and sure of herself, and she looked to be about thirty. “Yeah … I’ve got an inhaler.” She pulled it out of her pocket and showed her. “Take good care of it.” She laughed then, and tweaked the tip of Grace’s breast before sauntering off to her
even answer. Molly had been her only friend, and with David so far away, now she really had no one to turn to. Grace was alone again, except for her two friends in prison. The nurse had told her she had to go back to work the next day, and she was lucky they hadn’t already sent her to the hole for not showing up at work for two days. But she was pushing her luck now. And the next day, she made no effort to get up, in spite of all of Sally and Luana’s threats and pleas. She just lay there,
settling down to watching television before she went to sleep that night, when Charles strode in, in khaki pants and a starched blue shirt, looking like an ad in GQ and smelling like the country. “I was on my way back into town, and I thought I’d stop by and see how you were,” he said, looking happy to see her. And in spite of herself, she beamed at him. She had actually missed him that afternoon, and that had worried her a little. He was only her boss after all, not a lifelong friend, and she
still coming in little short gasps, and she seemed a little shaky from the medication. “You don’t remember where you were when you shot your father?” “I don’t know.” She looked at him as though she didn’t see him sitting there on her bed with her. “In the doorway,” she lied. She knew what she had to do. She owed it to her mother to protect him. “You shot him from the doorway?” It was impossible, and they were getting nowhere. “Do you think someone else shot your father?” He wondered if that