Buried Hearts Netflix Novels & Stories

A deep, aching pull I don’t understand. Am I broken? Or have I buried the truth under so many expectations, I can’t even feel it? I curl beneath the covers, eyes still open. The celebration is over. The mask is off. But the questions remain.

He still wanted me dead. “Jesus, Jerry,” Detective Foster snapped. “What if she hears you? What do you think that would do to her?” “She can think whatever she wants. If she hadn’t begged Theo to come home for her birthday, he would’ve stayed hidden, and the Butcher wouldn’t have found him.” His voice cracked, raw with grief. “My boy was only eighteen… And we never even found his remains. My wife and I have been climbing that damn mountain for eight years, hoping to find anything that belonged to our son!”

Because if I did— And he wasn’t real— “I saw you,” I said, my voice trembling despite everything. “I saw—” My throat tightened. “I buried you.” The words hung between us. He didn’t react the way I expected. No denial. No confusion. Just… Understanding. “I know,” he said quietly. My chest tightened. “You’re dead,” I whispered. The word felt wrong even as I said it. Because he didn’t look dead. Didn’t feel like absence. He felt like—

I got a lot of mails and on my side table are goods from friends who hope me to get well and from enemies who hope me to die. I hope I simply die, I run out of reason to live anyway. For the last time, I fail to find my sister, I ask people if any lady of her age appear here. Just in case she saw me in the news and got a heart to pay me a visit. Maybe she hates me or she’s no longer here… I hope she’s still alive though she can’t remember me.

“Kayson, open the door.” “Go away.” “You need to eat something.” “I said go away.” There was a pause, then his voice came through the door, quieter this time. “The search is still running.” I sat on the floor with my back against the bed and stared at nothing. “For who?” I asked. Marco had no answer for that. By the third day, even grief had turned numb. I was standing by the window when the room tilted. The glass blurred. Then the floor came up hard.

"He must've been so desperate to live off a woman that he has lost his mind. To think he's pretending to be a dead man, whose body must've turned to dust by now!" "I know, right? I can't believe he's trying to pass himself off as the husband of the richest woman in the city! He should take a good look at himself in the mirror first." Suppressing my rage, I ignored the chatter around me and walked toward my parents' urns, which had been used to prop up some flowerpots. I wanted to dig them out of the soil and rebury them properly, but Melissa beat me to it. She kicked the urns with her sharp heels, and they shattered instantly. My parents' ashes spilled across the ground, mixing in with the d

Elias, still by the door, quietly set the empty violin case at his side and resumed his watch over the chapel entrance, eyes on the snow. Aurora looked at the decoded page, then at her sister. "So where do we start?" Elara turned to the final line, the one Vivienne hadn't read yet, the one that had only just finished resolving itself in careful, deliberate ink. She read it once to herself before she could bring herself to say it aloud. "St. Bartholomew Cemetery. London." Below it, a single sentence, written in Jonathan's unmistakable hand. "The first key has been buried beneath the only grave that has never held a body."

"I respected him. I thought he was different from the other Alphas—the ones who bury the truth to protect their own. But he's been keeping me in the dark. Protecting Kira. And I want to know why." Alfie's hands curled into fists at his sides. He could feel the weight of the secret pressing down on him, demanding release. But he had sworn loyalty to Nick. He had promised to protect the pack. And the truth about Kira—about what she had done, about how it had happened—would destroy everything. "Harper," he said slowly, "some things are better left buried." "Buried?" Her voice rose. "My sister is buried, Alfie. Six feet under, because someone killed her. And you're telling me to let it go?"

Both of us caught in the act. My vision swims. The caption reads: Mother of Nathaniel Cross and his fiancée caught digging up his dead wife's grave. What are they hiding? I don’t breathe. I just stare. My hand is shaking. I feel it. The walls closing in. This isn't over. Not even close.

And I`m sure he was going to pay it back. I, alone, had to dig a grave and bury a body of a man, a father, and a brother to someone. Literally, we just emotionally killed his loved ones. They`ll never heal or find closure on this like the cruel- man with his daughter. But since I want to be heartless, I had to care less. A week later, we had a meeting at the warehouse and those two weren’t there again. This time, it was the day. We were told that there is a hidden treasure which one has to come back with. The problem was that there`s one treasure yet there are four players.