Behind The Green Curtain Novels & Stories

Assholes. The room around them brightened as the portal deactivated. Bailey held back a sigh of pleasure. It was lovely. Flowering vines snaked up naked columns, small topiaries decorated the corners. One wall was a glass so clear it looked like nothing was there. Beyond the glass was a world in a riot of color. Tropical flowers bloomed brightly against a vivid green backdrop. Bailey saw the twitch of greenery as animals leaped and played. There was a well manicured lawn hemmed by gigantic hedges.

Modric’s POV The green cloak hung behind Velvera’s bedroom door. For several seconds, I could not move. The cottage faded around me as Elder Mira’s description returned with painful clarity. A woman near the dessert table. Dark green fabric. A hood lowered over part of her face. The poisoned honey cakes had been placed shortly afterward. At the time, the description had been too vague to identify anyone. Many women owned green cloaks. Many guests had moved through the festival grounds.

She couldn't understand it at all anyway. George carried her in and found the little box No. 2. He pressed the switch on the bedside table, where the door, windows, and also the curtains then closed and were drawn slowly. The curtain was a blackout curtain, which could completely block the sunlight. After he switched on the bedside lamp and the curtain was drawn, the whole room was only left with a dim light of the bedside lamp. It was no different from the nighttime. Sigrid was a little embarrassed. Seeing that he was in a hurry to take off his clothes, she thought for a moment and said, "Don't be in such a hurry. If the clothes are torn, they will need to be sown."

But they sounded so alike. Could it be that Selena was never pregnant in the first place? Selena hung up her call when she could hear a flight of footsteps outside. Heather quickly entered the stall next door and closed the door. The one who made the sounds of footsteps came in and a woman's voice rang outside. "It's me." "I'm here. Give it to me." She could hear the sounds of footsteps shuffling and a woman said, "That Mr. Green is so detestable, Selena. He keeps hitting on me. Is he really going to give us the loan?"

Ariana Vance agrees to a paper marriage to Damon Sterling — the ruthless, untouchable billionaire — to save her family’s collapsing empire. The deal is simple: two years as his perfect, obedient wife, then a quiet divorce. No feelings. No expectations. No love. But Damon isn’t the cold, heartless man the world sees. Behind his icy armor lies a man scarred by loneliness and burdened by a dangerous legacy. As Ariana slowly unravels the layers of the man beneath the mask, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur. Late-night conversations, quiet glances, and moments of unexpected tenderness awaken something in both of them — a connection neither can deny, nor afford to keep. Ju

She pointed it toward the large red curtain hanging along the wall behind the crowd. “Let’s apologize in person.” She pressed the green button. Slowly… The massive red curtain began sliding apart. Guests turned their heads in confusion. “What’s happening?” As the curtain moved aside, the wooden board separating the hall from the next room began lowering gradually. The board dropped slowly… until it hit the floor with a quiet thud. The crowd gasped collectively. Inside the room, two people stood frozen. Stalk naked. Their bodies pressed tightly together. Their lips locked.

"Do you need us to call Ashton here, sweetie?" "Um no." I said, wiping a tear. "We- we broke up." The room became quiet. "Caleb," dad said. "Bring the shovel. We've got... some business to do." Caleb nodded. "Yeah, we do." And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I gained a hatred for forest green eyes. But hey, I read somewhere that only 2% of the world's population had green eyes, so there might be a very little chance that I see another one again.

At the Anniversary dinner, the setting was so glorious and one of the best decorator in the state did that at the courtesy of George , the color was white and sky blue with white candles, Irene came with so much anticipation and calmness. She was wearing a fine red gown with sparkling diamond necklace George got for her and nice small red heels sandals, parking her hair in a high bun, she was looking so beautiful. She walked straight where George was standing in a little dark place in an astonishing black tuxedo.

Luca joined her, jacket slung over one shoulder, his gaze scanning the horizon as if expecting trouble to arrive dressed in moonlight. They stayed behind, playing hosts even after the curtain had fallen. But beneath the surface, GreenLee’s thoughts churned. The vows, the smiles, the staged perfection—it all felt like a performance she hadn’t auditioned for. Luca sensed it. He didn’t speak, just stood beside her, a silent sentinel.

But the original plans, yellowed, brittle—told a different story. There was a sublevel beneath the clinic. Not the archives. Not the morgue. A wing sealed decades ago. Labeled simply: Ward Zero. And next to it, handwritten in red ink: No mirrors. No music. No light. Adrien felt the weight of that warning sink into his bones. Something was coming undone. And Mila was the key.