Everything I Never Told You Audiobook Novels & Stories

The familiar suffocating feeling rushed in. I grabbed at my throat and dragged in air, one breath at a time. Olivia Jones handed me a bottle of water out of habit, rubbing my back, her voice still cool. "The day you were diagnosed, Randall called and said he felt terrible. Turns out he just needed someone to take it out on. To be exact, we were just sleeping together. Legally." I forced the water down. My stomach turned. My mind slipped back to the day of the crash. I was waiting outside the OR, and Olivia never showed.

He just stared, ice-cold. "Cassie, this is what you do—lie and manipulate." Then he walked away. Left me in the mountains. Five days of freezing and despair. I didn't just lose my baby—I lost the man I loved. Tears slid down my cheeks, soaking the pillow. Adriano's brows drew tight. "Use the best medicine. Get her stable. If anything goes wrong, you're finished," he barked at the doctor. A flicker of concern slipped out, but I didn't care anymore.

" We were only renting for now and waiting for our new place to finish renovations so we could move in before the new year, but there was no reason to tell Oliver any of that. I would only answer what he asked. After a moment of silence, I thought he had hung up. So, I said, "If that's all, I'm hanging up." Oliver said "wait" twice, his tone softening until he sounded like a guilty kid. "I apologized to you in the group chat about that thing with Abigail the other day, but you didn't respond. Did you not see it?" Of course, I had seen it. I had posted the recording, and the chat had exploded within minutes. Because of that, Oliver had no choice but to tag me in the group chat and apologize p

she said. So I did. I told her everything. Daniel Park and the phone call and the warehouse on Sixth Street and the folder full of documents. I told her about sitting in my parents' sitting room watching my father's hands shake as he read the lab records. I told her about my mother holding my hand across the coffee table and the long afternoon that had followed, the way it had felt like the first honest conversation we had managed in over a year. Tasha listened the way she always did when something was serious — completely still, her coffee forgotten in her hand, her eyes on my face.

Marc said—voice cracking on the last word. Damien nodded once. Squeezed his hand. “You have it.” They drove back in silence—rain hammering the roof, wipers sweeping steady rhythm. Marc watched the city blur past—streetlights bleeding into puddles, billboards glowing through the haze, life moving on without them. The folder lay on the seat between them like a bridge they weren’t sure they could cross. The chain pressed warm against his chest. The folder felt like proof of every lie he’d told himself for months.

I say slowly feeling my flesh leave my body. "I love you so much Aaron. Never forget that." I say ending my voice message then I feel my eyes slowly shutting. I collapse not long after.

He practically jumped out of his chair to hug her. She looked at her watch and said, “I have to go. I need to run the books for my bar and restaurant.” She turned to me and asked, “Are you coming?” I glared at my father and said, “In a minute. I need to have a word with my father.” She nodded and headed out. “Seriously?” I asked the moment the door closed. “Son...” “You do this intentionally, don't you?” I asked angrily. “The kind of business we are in isn't something that can be taught, but you need to learn it, and Elisa seems to be thriving.” He said proudly, “You married a good one.”

"W-What did you just say? Sofia, what did you say?" "You've always been so curious about this box I carry, haven't you?" I looked straight into his eyes. "Liam, I'll tell you now. It contains the ashes of our daughter, Cecilia! Our daughter is dead! And it was your precious human, Mia, who killed her!" I screamed, my voice breaking. "As you wished, Cecilia will never have another birthday! My poor child... Her last breath was spent asking me, 'Why hasn't Daddy come yet? Does Daddy not love me anymore?'"

That alone told me he knew the kind of man we were dealing with. We met in his office an hour later. No windows. Just maps, files, and the low hum of computers. It felt like a place where truth went to hide when the world got too loud. “Tell me everything,” Aaron said. So I did. The warehouse fire. My mother. The missing page. The hush money. Daniel. Pierce. The warning about another fire. I spoke until my throat hurt, until the words tangled over each other. Aaron listened without interrupting, his fingers moving steadily over his keyboard.

VIVIENNE “I do not know how to grieve someone I never knew.” She said it before Sera had finished sitting down. Not as an opening to a conversation. As the thing that had been pressing against the inside of her chest since she pressed play on the first recording yesterday and heard her father’s voice for the first time in thirty years and discovered that it did not feel like recognition. It felt like meeting a stranger she was supposed to love. Sera sat across from her in Dr. Cole’s office. Eight o’clock exactly. The room was quiet. The recorder sat on the table between them in its metal case. Fourteen recordings. Forty-seven minutes total. A dead man’s careful documentation of his own destr