Confession Book Novels & Stories

I had four days left before the poison consumed my organs entirely. All I wanted was to spend whatever time I had left with the woman I loved, but I could not reach her. The next day, I learned that Enzo Marchetti, the first love she had never forgotten, had returned from overseas. "Let's get divorced. The love of my life is back." I clutched my chest as a searing pain tore through it. "I'm at the family hospital. I've been poisoned. The doctors won't let me leave.” Her voice turned sharp and cruel. "I don't care if you're poisoned or dying. Even if you drop dead the next second, you need to come back and sign the papers." The last trace of warmth inside me went cold. I answered calmly,

Outside, everything was ice and frost Dorian’s version of safe. He had wanted her out of the city while the heat cooled. A dozen news cycles had passed since the trial, since the last arrest. But silence, she learned, was never safe; it was an echo chamber. She walked back to the desk. Highlighted the whole paragraph. Cut it. Typed again. “This book is not a confession. It is a record. Of power, of violence, of velvet and blood. And of the people who lived inside it some survived. Some did not.”

he explained while pointing. “ Find it for me, will you?” He asked, I quickly nodded, then headed out to the confessional booth., I walked to it, then I opened the door, it creaked loudly. I sported the black note book. I recognized it but so did the voice that came from outside the wooden confessional booth. “ Forgive me father for I have sinned,” the deep male voice came, the kind that vibrated when he talked, I peeped through the screen.

Gabriel looked away. A long silence followed. Finally... He whispered, "I was afraid." Samuel frowned. "Afraid of what?" Gabriel laughed bitterly. "That if I ever gave up control..." "...the world would become as cruel as the one I grew up in." The Auditor nodded slowly. "There it is." Damian looked at him. "What?" "The first honest thing Gabriel has said in thirty years." The Vault glowed softly. "Confession accepted." Gabriel looked surprised. "You keep records of confessions?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN -> AWAKENING So the new church doesn’t have a single nun in it but not to worry I have got my eyes on a bigger, curvy, perky fish. I gotta admit this exorcist nonsense is not as bad as I had imagined. I thought I wouldn’t be able to clap cheeks anymore but I think someone is digging my vibe. Well one thing is certain, if it works out, nothing and no one is going to mar it. Lets start today’s confession, shall we?

SERIES NAME : BORN BY POWER SEQUEL NAME : UPRISE OF HELL (BOOK 2) CHAPTER 11 : LILITH'S CONFESSION OF TRUTH II "You...(breaks)(shoe heel noises)...are...(breaks)(shoe heel noises)..the one they call salvation." Her stretchy fingers held the rail of the stairs as she walked down, slowly. "The supernatural worship you like you are God!" Her tone rose and fell and her motions defined her character.

Her heels echoed on the stone floor, a sound that stirred something unfamiliar in him. Page entered the booth opposite, her breath uneven. Twenty-nine, with raven hair cascading over her shoulders and a red coat that hugged her ample curves, she had come seeking absolution. Sins weighed heavy: affairs, lies, the thrill of forbidden touches in dark alleys. But as she knelt, the partition slid open, revealing Abram's stern blue eyes. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Page whispered, her voice trembling. "It's been months since my last confession."

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

"Mom, Clara sold our company secrets and still dares to join the contest." She pulled out a magazine, pointing to the rival's early spring collection. The designs were identical to mine. Ruth, who valued the company above everything else, panicked upon seeing this.

“What the fuck is that?” I stepped closer, voice dropping low. “Sit down and listen.” He didn’t sit. He stayed planted there, tension rolling off him in waves. I unfolded the page carefully and started reading the raw confession I’d written the week after he destroyed the rest. The words came out slow and heavy, each one carrying ten years of weight.