3rd Pov Omniscient Novels & Stories

•~•Third Person’s POV Dominic paced the length of the room, his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the floor. His jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides as frustration tightened his chest. Across from him, his father sat at his grand mahogany desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The harsh, jagged lines of burn scars that marred his face caught the dim light, a reminder of the unfortunate events that had shaped him. Though his posture remained composed, his eyes betrayed the rapid calculations running through his mind.

Third Person's POV Zia gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove through the quiet evening streets toward Raymond’s apartment. Her thoughts were racing, the revelation about Sophia’s pregnancy gnawing at her. She had decided to tell Raymond—he deserved to know what Sophia was trying to do to Lorenzo.

The speak of the devil. Third person's pov. Rose didn't know about what events were going to happen with her in future. More pain, More betrayal, More depression.

Third Person POV In the early morning of the royal palace, Olivia watched the news with awe and shock. She could see her face, her past life, and watched as the reports gave an update on the Luna’s funeral services. The date has changed several times now and each time it only infuriated Olivia more and more.

Chapter 41 Third Person POV “Are you lost?” The fair man asked the little boy who had been standing, sniffling beside the temple’s peach tree. The little boy sniffled yet again as he nodded his head, tears falling down his eyes as he wiped the snot in his node with the sleeves of his shirt. The man crouched, not minding his white robes being sullied with dirt as he smiled at the boy and wiped his tear stricken face with a clean handkerchief.

I hadn't hurt anyone, but why had I to see such inhumane images in the third year after my death? I floated down and looked at the tiny baby. This was the first time I saw that child. I didn't cry when I was killed by Vivian. I didn't cry when I watched Winston dissect me with his own hands. But now, my tears were falling without stopping. This child already had hands and feet. If I hadn't been killed by Vivian, this child would have been over two years old by now.

As I signed the divorce papers for the third time, I moved through the familiar steps with practiced ease. I could have done it in my sleep, having been through the drill three times already. Henry Johnson clutched the divorce certificate, his eyes darting to his watch, his brow creased with impatience. "Go on ahead, I'll catch a cab back," I offered before he could say a word. A flicker of surprise crossed Henry's face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of regret as he spoke, "Sorry, Melanie just landed, I..."

The problem wasn’t over yet, but at least he’s gone for now. I turned slowly to face him again. His gray eyes, sharp and cold, were fixed on me. For a split second, I felt exposed, like he could see straight through me and through my thoughts. “I… thank you,” I said quickly, bowing and forcing a smile. “And… I’m sorry for the trouble.” “That’s the third time,” he murmured, almost under his breath, before turning and walking away. I stood frozen in time for a moment, watching his facade fade down the hallway. The words echoed in my mind. The third time? My pulse skipped. Does he actually remember me? My chest tightened as I realized what just happened. Or am I just possibly overthinking thing

"I guess you rushed out without your meds, right? I'm heading out." Jacob collapsed, clawing at his throat. "You… The cameras… They will not let you—" I stopped in the doorway. "That was a lie. There are no cameras." I shut the door. Jacob reached out weakly, grasping at empty air. … Third Person Point of View "Do you really have no idea what happened last night?"

I murmured lovingly, rocking us back and forth in a soothing rhythm. "Such a funny girl" I remarked. Third-person POV: He slumped back in the soft grass, his gaze fixed on the expanse of sky above him. But was interrupted by a feminine voice that broke through his reverie.