Eric Quiet Place: Day One Novels & Stories

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.

Jennifer Porter, the icy and untouchable CEO, never imagined that buying a simple jade pendant for her childhood friend would change everything. Because of that pendant, I divorced her and left with our daughter. After all, the jade pendant was my father's keepsake, and her childhood friend smashed it to pieces right in front of me. We met again three years later, at an international jewelry design competition. My ex-wife grabbed my wrist, fury burning in her eyes. "You've been gone for three years. Isn't your tantrum long enough? I'll buy you a hundred jade pendants, just come home with me." The next second, a small hand tugged at her clothes. "Excuse me, could you step aside? My mom needs to talk to my dad."

Brody Lewis, my fiance, said that I had a rare form of transient global amnesia, which was a sudden, temporary memory loss. Every seven days, I would open my eyes and become the twenty-five-year-old Riley Taylor again. My memories were forever stuck in the past. In my pen drive were videos of Brody taking me on trips, bringing me for treatment, and proposing to me. Everything seemed great between us, but I remembered none of it. “Riley’s still around. Can’t you keep your hands to yourself?” “Don’t worry. It’s Monday tomorrow. After she wakes up, she’ll remember none of it,” Brody said, and my heart sank. “Isn’t this more exciting?” Brody embraced my best friend, and they made out brazenly in front of me. They were not shy about it at all. I wondered just how many times this had happened over the past two years. I ran as tears blurred my vision. When I arrived at a tattoo shop, I grabbed the tattoo artist like a drowning man holding on to a log. Then, I asked the tattoo artist to tattoo these words on my arm in my handwriting. [Leave him.]

Over the weekend, I went with my best friend to one of the premium auto shops owned by my company to get her car serviced. Just as we were about to leave, someone stopped me and ordered me to wipe down her car. I explained that I didn't work there, but she got angry anyway. She flipped a 10-cent coin at my face. "Consider it an honor that I'm letting you wash my car. A broke girl like you has probably never even seen a luxury car in her life! I'm trying to broaden your horizons, and you're not even grateful?" I shot back, "You're right. I've never met a car owner who can only spare 10 cents. Consider my horizons broadened." She exploded on the spot. "Do you even know who I am? The chairman of the Penzo Group is my mother-in-law! Scared now?" I paused for a beat, then calmly called Leo Penzo. "I hear your mother went behind my back and found you a new wife?"

Suddenly Zeva Adelia, a freelance photographer, got a client who expressed his interest in her after spending a day together on the first day they met. However, without clarifying what their relationship was and only introducing his name as Zero, the next day Zero immediately returned to his country. He left only a trail of his handmade sketch of Zeva's face and a tiny letter asking Zeva to keep her heart's loyalty to him only. Strangely enough, by only communicating via chat, even without video or phone calls, Zeva feels that Zero has succeeded in conquering her heart. Then, can Zeva undergo a status-less relationship and a long-distance relationship with Zero? How long can Zeva endure waiting for Zero to come back for her? Also, how much does Zeva trust Zero's loyalty to her, when there's another girl like 24/7 beside Zero?

On Valentine's Day, my husband Ethan Scott’s assistant, Taylor Winston, gifted me 360 used condoms. She leaned close to my ear and whispered that this was Ethan’s favorite brand. Then, in front of everyone, she teased, "Valentine's Day calls for some explosive fun. I hope you don't mind, Claire." Disgust churned in my stomach, and I couldn’t hold back—I vomited on the spot. Embarrassed that I had humiliated him, Ethan snapped, "It was just a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" Three months pregnant, I was so enraged that a patch of red stained my pants. I begged him to take me to the hospital. But Taylor chimed in, "It's just her physiological reaction." Furious, Ethan heartlessly locked me in the car. He spent three carefree days with Taylor before finally remembering me. But when he saw me again, the usually composed CEO of Scott Enterprise completely lost his mind.

On Teacher's Day, my wife, Hera, was promoted to associate professor. Even for our marriage we simply registered without a proper ceremony, yet this time, she specifically prepared a feast at home to celebrate. During the dinner, she took out the flowers a male student had given her and was about to put them in a vase. Without warning, I knocked the flowers out of her hand, flipped over the vase, and, under the bewildered gazes of the whole family, calmly said, "Let's get a divorce." Hera was stunned at first, then angrily snapped, "Stanley Lawson, what's gotten into you? I’m just putting some flowers my student gave me in a vase. What's the big deal?" My mother-in-law, Sarah Swift, chimed in, "Hera just got promoted to associate professor, and it's Teacher's Day. What's wrong with a student giving her flowers? Are you seriously getting jealous over that?" I glanced at the scattered petals on the floor and slowly said, "Yes, it's because of these flowers that I want a divorce."

In the tenth year after I had married in his place, my brother, Thayer Ashford, suddenly returned. The whole family fell silent as they looked at him. He yawned as he spoke with careless ease, “I traveled through thirteen countries. I’m exhausted. “Where’s Seraphina? She should be in primary school by now, right? Why hasn’t she come to see me?” Seraphina was Thayer’s daughter. Back then, Thayer had abruptly announced he had a child. Yet on the very day of his wedding, he staged his own death, leaving behind Seraphina and his fiancée, Isolde Fairchild. The Fairchilds belonged to the old-money elite of the city. My parents did not dare offend them, so they decided to package me—fresh out of graduation—and send me to the wedding in Thayer’s place. Over these ten years, I became a competent husband and a responsible father. As my parents watched Thayer’s brazen composure, their gazes shifted toward me. I gave them a faint smile. “Sera went to Novaforge with Isolde.”

On her 18th birthday, a lowly Omega named Chloe Vanguard is publicly humiliated and brutally rejected by her fated mate, the powerful Alpha Julian Blackwood. Instead of claiming her, Julian banishes Chloe from the pack to be with her treacherous stepsister, leaving the broken girl to cough up blood on the cold palace floor. Fueled by a new, dark resolve, Chloe accepts her exile and vows that the Alpha will one day regret throwing away a "priceless diamond" for "rotting trash."

"Sign the divorce papers, Nora." I didn't cry. I simply looked at the billionaire husband who had ignored me for three years and made one final demand. "One hundred days, Silas. Move back into my bedroom. Touch me like a man obsessed with his wife. On Day 101, I will sign the papers and walk away." Arrogant and certain, he agreed, assuming it was a desperate plea to use my body to win his heart back. He had no idea what he was walking into. By Day 20, the cold, untouchable CEO is rushing home just to pin me against our bedroom door. By Day 50, he’s pulling me into his lap, whispering breathless, desperate promises in the dark. He is addicted to the friction, using every searing kiss and heavy touch to forcefully brand me as his. He thinks the heated nights we share mean I am finally surrendering. He doesn't know the truth. I’m not using these 100 nights to fall back in love with him. I’m using his counterfeit passion to completely numb my heart. While my body responds to his fire, my soul is freezing over. On Day 100, Silas pours his soul into the most emotionally raw night of my life. He falls asleep holding me tight, entirely convinced his absolute worship has won me back forever. But on Day 101, he wakes up to cold sheets, an empty closet, and a signed contract. His money couldn't buy me. His touch couldn't keep me. Now, the billionaire who thought he was playing a game will burn his empire to the ground to find the wife who gave him her body, but vanished with her soul.