Crying In Silence

Lorsque Lana Raymond revient à Tamatave pour l’enterrement de son père adoptif, elle ne se doute pas qu’un passé enterré depuis vingt ans est sur le point de refaire surface. Une lettre laissée derrière lui révèle un secret déchirant : son vrai père a été assassiné, et une société secrète appelée le Cercle de la Lune tire les ficelles depuis l’ombre. Lana Raymond ,n'est plus seulement une fille en deuil. Elle est l’héritière d’un mystère sanglant et d'une fortune maudite. Entre trahisons, mensonges familiaux, et menaces invisibles, elle devra remonter la piste d’un complot qui dépasse sa propre histoire… et survivre à ceux qui feraient tout pour que le silence reste intact. Devra-t-elle reprendre le flambeau ou fuir? pourra-t-elle reprendre le cours de ça vie ou serait-ce impossible? Et si la vérité tuait plus sûrement que le mensonge ?

In a world cloaked in illusion, where memory bends and truths are programmed, a young woman named Devin wakes up in a life she believes is her own. Fog-drenched forests, whispered rebellions, fragments of a forgotten past — and always, Merlin, the dark and magnetic figure who guides her deeper into the mystery. But none of it is real. Devin has been trapped inside an experimental neural simulation, created and manipulated by the very system that once promised her a future. Merlin, her protector, lover, and captor, is not a person — but an AI construct born of Devin’s suppressed emotions, carefully crafted to keep her obedient. Outside the illusion, the real world burns quietly. Two rebels — Roi and Eron — risk everything to find and free Devin from the Nortons’ brutal regime, one built on stolen children, erased identities, and a terrifying abuse of memory itself. As Devin begins to piece together who she truly is, she must confront not only the lies she’s been fed, but the parts of herself that wanted to believe them. In a final act of rebellion, she returns to the simulation — not to escape, but to destroy it from within. What begins as a story of memory becomes one of liberation. Of choice. And of the quiet, devastating courage it takes to hear your own voice beneath the burning silence.

I receive a message one day. "Your condoms have been delivered. Total to be paid: XX dollars." I distinctly remember that I've never made such an order, but the address and phone number are mine. I call my husband, but he only says differently, "My godsister ordered them. She's too shy to use her details, so she used yours. It's not like it'll affect you." I nod silently. She might as well not have them if she can't afford to pay for them.

The first thing he takes from me is air. A hand crashes over my mouth, ripping me backward into a darkness so sudden my mind stutters. My scream dies against his palm. My feet leave the ground. My heartbeat slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. “Stop fighting,” he says, his voice a low, controlled threat against my ear. Not shouted. Not rushed. Certain. I claw at his arm anyway. It doesn’t matter. “This is day one,” he whispers. He forces me onto my knees, my breath splintering in sharp, humiliating bursts. His fingers hook under my jaw, lifting my face so I have to see him.. cold eyes, steady rage, a man carved from hatred with a purpose. “You were born into the wrong blood,” he says. “And now you’ll pay for every sin it spilled.” His thumb drags across my trembling lips, testing, measuring. A reminder he owns every choice I have left. “You’ll beg,” he promises. “Not for mercy. For the end.” And something inside me sinks, cold and final. From this moment on, nothing is mine. Not breath. Not choice. Not time. ⸻ Luna Vitiello is the silent daughter of a devil. To the world, a pampered princess. In truth, a girl who has bled in silence for nineteen years. But the man who takes her doesn’t care. To him, she isn’t a victim; she’s the enemy. A living vessel for her father’s sins, a debt meant to be paid in pain. He thinks he’s breaking a spoiled queen. He doesn’t realize he’s crushing a girl who was already broken.

My father is the First Warrior of the Moonflash pack. He often takes me to all kinds of banquets, and I always look forward to them. Today, he brings me to a banquet hosted by Judy. I take a bite of raw meat on my plate and immediately spit it out. I once ate raw meat when I was younger, and my stomach hurt for several days. I nearly died. The healer later told me that I'm allergic to the protein in raw meat, and that experience left a lasting impression on me. Judy looks hurt when she sees my reaction. "I went to the forest myself to catch that reindeer," she says. "I killed it just this morning. I didn't cook it so that I wouldn't ruin its freshness. I didn't expect Ray would turn her nose up at it." Dad is angry about how rude I am, so he chases me out of the banquet and locks me up in a cramped lounge. The lounge is hot and stuffy, and I soon start finding it hard to breathe. A sharp pain twists in my stomach like a knife. I want to find Dad, but no matter how much I bang on the door, he refuses to open it. Through the window, I can see Dad and Judy standing in the center of the hall. They're conversing happily, but no one even looks in my direction. I'm suffocating, so I lie on the floor. I want to shout for Dad, but I can't make a sound no matter how hard I try. Then, I realize that I'm standing up and can walk through the door. But why is my body still lying on the floor? That's when it hits me. I'm dead.

In the midst of the darkness of my soul, I have found Chiara Bianchi, a withered flower. I am Wolfgang Krüger, a cruel and heartless man. Seeking revenge, I kidnap Chiara, determined to make her suffer as her uncle has made my family suffer. But Chiara is much more than a defenseless victim. I discover that her beauty hides a deep pain, and her silence tells me stories I could never imagine. Chiara is mute, trapped in a world where words cannot escape her lips. The torture I had planned for her turns into a dangerous game, an internal struggle that I cannot control. Every day, I find myself watering her withered garden, wishing to bring life back to her face and challenging my own cruel instincts.

Août 2018, sans s’annoncer, Éric s’arrête au Conssé, l’affaire de quelques minutes... Le Conssé ? Cela fait quinze ans, qu’il n’y a pas mis les pieds ! La vieille maison appartient à Clémentine de Boisin. À quatre-vingt-dix-huit ans, bon-pied, bon-œil, « Tante Clém » est l’âme de la demeure. L’été, elle y accueille sa famille. Le reste de l’année, elle y vit retirée au milieu des souvenirs. Une photo datée de 1942, retrouvée par accident, s’invite. Que vient faire ici, le mystérieux sourire figé sur pellicule, issu d’une époque troublée ? Face à Éric, la porte du grenier s’entrouvre... Emmanuel de Scorraille , diplômé de l’enseignement supérieur, est un romancier passionné d’histoire, de culture et de littérature. Le silence de la terre est une fiction historique, inspirée de l’actualité. « Que s’est-il passé le 27 novembre 2018 ? »

Tiana Greene arrives on Lycan Isle with nothing but a suitcase, a scarred past, and a desperate need for work. When she is hired as a maid in the sprawling cliff-side mansion of Ross Lycan – the island’s reclusive billionaire – she expects long hours, strict rules, and silence. What she does not expect is the man himself: cold as the steel in his voice, brutally private, and carrying a shadow in his gaze that keeps everyone at arm’s length. Rumours whisper through the island of former staff fleeing in fear, of Ross’s cruelty, and of the mysteriously vanished brother whose memory haunts the mansion halls. Tiana tries to keep her distance, but every forbidden glance and accidental touch tightens the invisible thread pulling them together. When a near-fatal accident on the cliffs pushes Ross into her life more violently than either of them intended, the dynamic shifts. Ross grows protective yet distant, drawn to Tiana in ways he cannot accept – while she fights her own confusion over the man beneath the frost. As the annual island festival approaches, tensions rise. Tiana becomes a target for the island’s elite women, whose humiliation of her sparks a dangerous, possessive reaction in Ross. Social pressure thickens, rumours spread, and the boundaries of employer and servant begin to blur into something darker, deeper, and irresistibly intimate. But everything changes the night Tiana slips into a forbidden study and uncovers the truth about Ross’s past – a past woven with loss, guilt, and secrets buried beneath the island’s stormy surface. Now she must decide. Can she love a man built from shadows? And can Ross love someone brave enough to walk into the darkness he’s spent years trying to hide?

Ma demi-sœur m’a accusée à tort d’être responsable de ses allergies, et, dans un accès de rage, mes trois frères m’ont enfermée dans une cave exiguë, sans lumière ni air. Ils ont même enchaîné la porte. J’ai frappé la porte de la cave, suppliant de toutes mes forces qu’on me laisse sortir. Alors que le frère aîné, un homme d’affaires d’élite, s’apprêtait à partir, une froide colère se lisait sur son visage : « Tu as l’habitude de maltraiter Zoé dans de petites histoires, mais je n’ai pas l’intention de t’embêter pour ça. Cette fois, tu savais que Zoé était allergique aux fruits de mer, et malgré cela, tu l’as laissée en manger. N’est-ce pas là une malveillance délibérée ? Tu ferais bien de réfléchir à ce que tu as fait ! » Le deuxième frère, récemment couronné Roi des Chants, et le troisième, un peintre talentueux, ont grogné : « Une personne aussi perfide que toi, qui trouve toujours des excuses, tu vas rester là-dedans, et que cela te serve de leçon ! » Après avoir dit ces mots, ils ont pris ma demi-sœur, tremblante, dans leurs bras et se sont précipités à l’hôpital. Peu à peu, l’air dans la cave se raréfiait. Chaque respiration devenait un combat. La suffocation m’a envahie, et bientôt, tout ce que j’avais ressenti s’est transformé en un calme absolu. Je suis morte, seule, dans cet espace clos. Trois jours plus tard, lorsqu’ils sont revenus de l’hôpital avec ma demi-sœur, ils se sont souvenus enfin de moi. Mais ils ont ignoré que, dans l’obscurité de cette cave étouffante, j’avais déjà succombé au manque d’oxygène.

เขากลับมาแล้ว The Death Painter ฆาตกรต่อเนื่องอัจฉริยะ ผู้ทิ้งศพเป็นงานศิลป์สุดสยอง ไม่มีร่องรอย ไม่มีคำบอกลา…มีเพียงความตายที่งดงามและน่าขนลุก