Buried Memories Novels & Stories

"You're not Isabella. But you will be. Starting tonight." Elara has nothing. No family. No money. She grew up in foster care. She cleans toilets for a living. Until the night she scrubs the penthouse bathroom of Alexander Blackwood, a billionaire CEO. He walks in drunk, sees her face, sees the star-shaped birthmark behind her ear, and calls her Isabella. Isabella is his wife. She disappeared six months ago. She was declared dead. And she looks exactly like Elara. Now Elara is forced to wear a dead woman's clothes, sleep in her bed, and pretend to be someone she never met. The mansion is full of secrets. The housekeeper watches her every move. The charming brother offers help that feels too calculated. And Alexander knows more about Isabella's disappearance than he admits. But Elara survived foster care by staying quiet and watching. Now she's watching them. And she's going to find out what happened to her sister—even if it means tearing the Blackwood family apart from the inside. She came to clean their toilets. She's staying to bury their secrets.

Arche Harrison, the man doesn't care about the world he lives in. He is always in trouble until he meets Haru, and he falls in love with her, and he learns how life is important. Haru Sandoval was a girl who had a dark past until she met Arche, and she learned how to smile. What if Haru finds out that she has a serious disease. What will she do? She will try to hide it from the person she loves to not get hurt, or she will just let her loved ones know it?

Calista Arden has tried to seduce her husband, Theodore Montclair, for the 999th time, only to fail in consummating her marriage with him as always. Afterward, she calls her older brother, Elijah Arden. "I'm planning on getting a divorce, Elijah." Elijah remains silent for three whole seconds over the line. Finally, he speaks up in a deep, gravelly tone, "I already told you before that it's impossible for you to drill through Theodore's stone-cold heart no matter how hard you try." With reddened eyes, Calista can only chuckle quietly. "Yeah. I'm the overconfident fool here." "Come to Nordland," Elijah says lightly. "There are plenty of hunks here who are as good-looking as Theodore. Since that idiot doesn't know how to cherish my amazing and adorable sister, he can just spend the rest of his life as a devoted man of religion who has no family of his own."

Kaleya Asterin's kin was murdered at the dawn of the silver moon. That night, as the Bloodorb pack cornered her, she leaped into the raging waves of the ocean, only to awoke with her mind blank as a canvas. She was a stranger to herself and had no recollection of the past. Devoid of any memories, the events of that day took a turn for the worst when she found out that she would be executed the next thing in the morning, and the alpha who sent her a life sentence was none other than her mate. Being alone and with no one to aid, Kaleya will have to fight the power of the bond, and chambers of her heart, while slowly unwinding the truth etched in her shadowed past. "I do not need a queen or a Luna. I shall not usher one with blood-stained hands into my realm. Hence, your presence holds no place, for my kingdom seeks no affiliation with you.”

That winter, the Silver Moon Pack holds its annual ski hunt. An avalanche strikes without warning, and the three of us are trapped in a lift pod. There's only one thermal suit left. My mate, Ryan Mercer, gives the thermal suit to me. I survive, but his childhood sweetheart, Eve Hurst, is buried forever beneath the endless white of the mountain. No body is ever found. However, he gazes at me with devotion and says, "Celine Bartlett, you are the love of my life." I soak in those words, believing them. But I have no idea this is the beginning of my nightmare. For the next five years, he speaks to me only with cruelty. "You killed Eve. You're a murderer!" He locks me in the basement and whips me with lashes soaked in wolfsbane. Then, he pretends to show pity and feeds me with a silver fork. When I refuse, he stabs me with silver nails across my legs, carving deep red lines into my skin. "This is what you owe her, and you will repay it!" When I ask for a reject, he stabs a silver dagger into my chest, dragging me into death with him. When I open my eyes, I find myself back on the day of the avalanche. This time, I hand the survival gear to Eve without hesitation. This time, I owe her nothing. And now, I want to see whether they will get their happy ending without me around.

I was the real heiress in a case of a mistaken identity. Three months after my return, the imposter heiress disappeared.   My brother, Caleb Carter, accused me of jealousy, believing I had driven the fake heiress away. The disappointed look on my parents’ faces revealed their true thoughts.   I was confined in the basement, subjected to daily torture.   Even after my death, my family donated my brain to a research institution.   Later, I watched from heaven as my family broke down upon watching my memories.

Ten years after my wealthy family took me back, I died in the rental house my billionaire parents had dumped me in. My son was three. Just to mess with me, the kidnapper gave me three chances to call for help. If even one person was willing to come see me, he'd spare my child. The first call was to my father, the man who'd spent fifteen years searching for me. He was busy directing the staff as they set up my adoptive sister's birthday party. When he picked up, he barked, "Estelle Emerson, seriously? Can you go one week without causing a scene? It's your sister's birthday. I'm busy. Don't kill the vibe." The second call was to my mother, the woman who brought me home and changed my name from Dixie to Estelle. But Vera snatched the phone and laughed so hard she could barely get the words out. "Estelle, seriously? If you're gonna make something up, at least make it believable. You look so broke you probably don't even have fifty bucks. What kidnapper would pick you?" The third time, I called Luca's father, my legal husband. He said he was in a meeting and didn't have time to play games with me. He also said that if I behaved myself, he'd agree to take me home for dinner next week. After the final call ended, I looked at the grinning kidnapper in despair and sent the last two messages of my life. A photo of myself covered in blood. And a short message, every word sincere. [I'm really going to die. In my next life, don't bring me home.]

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.

Three years ago, I broke up with my girlfriend—Audrey Hades—while she was on the verge of going bankrupt. Immediately after, I got engaged to her biggest rival, Clara Sterling. Later, she turns into a celebrated and adored rising star of the business world. She allows people around her to mock and label me as a gold-digger who leeches off rich women. But what she doesn't know is that I've been dead for three years.

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]