Drifted Mga Nobela at Kwento

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.

On New Year's Eve, the smell of a roast in the oven drifted through the house. My grandmother walked over to me, with an old photograph in her hand, the edges worn soft with age. "Is Zack almost home?" My throat tightened. It had been three years. She could never remember that my younger brother was long gone. I was the one who picked up his ashes. At that moment, my phone rang. The moment I saw the name on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze. I stepped out onto the balcony before answering, keeping my voice low. "What is it?" The voice on the other end of the line trembled. "It's been three years. Are you still angry? I've been waiting for you to come home. Our son has, too. We're downstairs." Downstairs? I walked over and looked down to see a tall figure and a small one standing together. Through my phone, my son's voice came with a catch in his throat, saying, "Daddy…" My thoughts snapped back into place. I said flatly, "We've been divorced for a long time. He said he didn't want to stay with me." Then, I hung up without another word.

The night before my fiancé, Soren, and I were supposed to leave for Northern Europe to start our new life, the sounds of a lively discussion drifted from his private club. "Christ, Boss, are you insane? Why the sudden marriage alliance with the Rosetti family to make a play for Italy? Didn't you say you were getting out of the life with Abby and heading north?" Soren leaned back into a leather sofa, his voice nonchalant and muffled by a cloud of smoke. "Plans change. Besides, remember, I'm the one who made her who she is." "Once she sees the new empire I'm building, that little canary will come flying right back to my cage. The woman can't live without me." I stood in the shadows of the club, a wine glass in my hand, a dull ache blooming in my chest. The anniversary gift I had so carefully chosen for Soren was still in my purse, waiting for me to give it to him. I slipped out of the smoke-filled club, tossed the gift into the nearest trash can, and booked a one-way ticket to Northern Europe. But what he didn't know was that just as he could betray our future for Monica, I could abandon him for mine. All those years we spent dancing with death were never just for his sake.

Content Warning: Smut, Smut and Smut. “He is watching us, Eleanor. Your husband, the one who believes you’re dead, is watching you like this… beneath another man, breathless, trembling, losing yourself across these sheets.” His hand tightened at my waist, drawing a sharp breath from my lips as his mouth brushed my ear. “Good,” I whispered, a slow, wicked smile curving across my lips as my gaze drifted toward the shadow behind the half-open door. I tilted my head back, letting the moment linger—letting him watch. “Then let’s give him a show he will never forget.” ** Once, I had belonged to someone else. A husband who chose my sister over me. A family who buried my screams beneath their lies. A man who did not hesitate when asked which of us should die. He chose me. So now, I chose revenge. A new face. A new name. I would make him crave me… ache for me… ruin himself trying to keep me. And when my sister watches him unravel, piece by piece, she would feel every ounce of pain I did. But to destroy a man, you must first understand his hunger. And the one teaching me? Alexander Blackthorn. My husband’s older brother. A ruthless rogue who believed revenge was never meant to be quick but savored slowly.

"Lilith, are you sure there's nothing wrong with this soup?" "What, you’re doubting your own mother’s love now?" she sneered. Grinding my teeth, I forced it down—only to feel a searing pain twist through my gut like knives a moment later. Alpha Kane burst into the room and gathered my lifeless body into his arms. His eyes burned crimson as he roared to the Eternity Pack: "I’ll burn this world to the ground for what you did to her." But fate wasn’t done with me yet. It gave me another chance. Back on the day of the poisoning, my cold smile slicing through the stunned silence. "This time," I said, "you’ll be the ones begging on your knees." And as it turns out… Revenge is sweet, but love? Even sweeter. "I can heal your leg," I said, lifting Kane’s blanket. Only for him to grab my wrist with a deadly grip. "Getting handsy now?" he smirked. "I’m checking your injury," I shot back, eyes narrowing. "Unless… there’s something else that needs ‘treating’ too?" "Sign it," I slammed the marriage certificate in front of him. "In exchange, I’ll help you walk again." "Do you even know what mate duties include?" His eyes drifted downward, tracing the curve of my waist— and lower.

My boyfriend pulled in two million a year. He told me that once he'd banked five hundred thousand, he'd invest in my gallery. Year one, he said the startup was bleeding money; he hadn't saved a cent. Year two, he needed a new car to keep up appearances; no funds for me. By year five, he was on his private yacht brokering a major deal and told me not to bother him. I stood outside the cabin door and listened to the laughter rolling out from inside. "If Celeste wanted to open a gallery, Eth would write her a million-dollar check without blinking." "Hell yeah. If Celeste hadn't gone abroad back then, that knockoff he's got now wouldn't even be in the picture." Ethan's voice drifted through the crack in the door, lazy, dismissive. "Enough. Emily's been with me five years. I'll still put something in for her." "She's a free drafting machine. She's not worth five hundred grand. One day's revenue at the firm, maybe. Call it round. Two thousand bucks." My eyes burned. I pulled out my phone and called the one man Ethan hated most in all of New York, Adrian Sterling. "Mr. Sterling. That partnership agreement you offered me? I'm signing it first thing tomorrow morning."

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."

"Lilith, are you sure there's nothing wrong with this soup?" "What, you’re doubting your own mother’s love now?" she sneered. Grinding my teeth, I forced it down—only to feel a searing pain twist through my gut like knives a moment later. Alpha Kane burst into the room and gathered my lifeless body into his arms. His eyes burned crimson as he roared to the Eternity Pack: "I’ll burn this world to the ground for what you did to her." But fate wasn’t done with me yet. It gave me another chance. Back on the day of the poisoning, my cold smile slicing through the stunned silence. "This time," I said, "you’ll be the ones begging on your knees." And as it turns out… Revenge is sweet, but love? Even sweeter. "I can heal your leg," I said, lifting Kane’s blanket. Only for him to grab my wrist with a deadly grip. "Getting handsy now?" he smirked. "I’m checking your injury," I shot back, eyes narrowing. "Unless… there’s something else that needs ‘treating’ too?" "Sign it," I slammed the marriage certificate in front of him. "In exchange, I’ll help you walk again." "Do you even know what mate duties include?" His eyes drifted downward, tracing the curve of my waist— and lower.

My mother never believed me. To her, I was always just a lying pup. In my pack, every cub wore a Moon Oath Collar. Red meant you lied. White meant you told the truth. My sister’s collar always glowed a soft white. Even when she pretended to be sick to get out of an exam, her collar only gave off that gentle white light. Mine was different. Even when I was truly sick, my collar would burst into a violent red, and the punishment current would follow immediately. On my sister’s birthday, Mother prepared a bonfire feast for the whole pack. Just before they left, a splitting pain tore through my head, and I collapsed on the floor, begging her to help me. For one second, she almost picked me up. Then my collar flashed red. “To ruin your sister’s birthday, you’re even pretending to die? What a vicious child.” Then she walked out with my sister and left me alone on the floor. I died alone on the cold floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer inside my body. My soul drifted after my mother as I whispered the truth she had never believed. “Mom… I wasn’t lying. I really died.” And when they finally found my body, the red collar on my neck was still flashing.