Everything I Never Told You Book Novels & Stories

“Unless you can find a way to switch it off.” “Why did this happen?” I asked. “Why me?” “What exactly did you see?” Marcus asked. He seemed to be the only one interested in my predicament. “The beginning and the end,” I replied. “That makes no sense” Kieran replied gruffly. I sighed. “And you think it does to me?” I asked in anger. “I think I understand it now,” Dominic said and began to pace around. “The Book is called the Book of Untold Story. So,what if all you saw were stories that have not happened yet. Possibilities, like Marcus said.”

"That was because my mother died of an amniotic embolism. I didn't want a child. What does that have to do with you?" The words were barely out before he took a step back, his face white as paper. If this was how Lydia had read it, did that mean Vera had read it the same way? Then everything he'd done for Lydia these seven years, what had it looked like in Vera's eyes? Every time he'd let go of Vera's hand, how much pain had he caused her? He suddenly remembered the heartbroken look in my eyes the day those reports came to light, and for the first time he wanted to go back and slap himself awake.

"I didn't choose any of this. My parents—" I stopped myself, but it was too late. The words had already escaped, hanging in the air between us like a confession. Miguel's eyes narrowed. He watched me carefully, as if piecing together a puzzle he'd already half-solved. "Your parents, what?" he asked quietly. I shook my head, refusing to continue. I couldn't. My mother's voice echoed in my mind: If you tell Miguel what happened, then everything will crash. Do not let him find out

To ensure that she would have absolute authority, I sold the family heirloom that Mom left me and used all the money I had to help her become the biggest shareholder. Looking back on the past, I realized that the wonderful love that I shared with Grace had just been a massive illusion. Everything that she did was just a part of her scheme. I eventually fell asleep to the sound of the rain and thunder. … Seven days passed in the blink of an eye. I had no idea what Clarence did, but Grace stopped contacting me. I held up my hand and counted down the days with my fingers. There were only three days left before I would be free.

‎ ‎And I was not going to tell him. ‎ ‎Because somewhere between signing those papers and standing in that boardroom this morning, something had settled into place. ‎ ‎Quiet. ‎ ‎Certain. ‎ ‎Unmovable. ‎ ‎For the first time in a very long time, I was not reacting to Damien Blackwood. ‎ ‎I was deciding what came next. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Except he knew everything now – my name and my story and my worst moments and my best, and he was still watching. I read from the bar chapter. The fictionalized version – names changed, details shifted – but everyone in the front row knew exactly which bar and which stranger and which night. My voice steady through the microphone. Sienna buried her face in Cole’s shoulder during the paragraph about the bathroom. Mom’s chin went up, eyes bright and wet, her hand finding Miles’s wrist. Even Richard – the lock on his jaw working, his gaze dropping to the floor when the prose reached the part about walls keeping people in instead of keeping the world out.

"I can't even dare open it, Norah." Back when we were just children, he never read the book. He would always ask me to read it to him because he said he didn’t have a mother, and that because I had one, the happily ever after in the story was just for my family, not his. He said he was born to a woman who died giving birth to him. The sadness in his voice, the loneliness in his eyes, was a memory that had haunted me for years. It was a memory that, even now, made my heart ache with a deep, consuming pain.

Pretending that one day he would wake up and realise that he loved me the way I loved him. But I was tired of pretending. I got up, wrapped the sheets around my naked body and walked outside the room, through the dark penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed Manhattan spread out like a galaxy below the forty-two-storey skyscraper apartment building. I found him on the balcony. He was smoking. My stomach dropped as my legs froze. In five years, I had never seen Steven Riorson smoke. Not once. He said he hated it. Said his father used to smoke, and the smell made him remember things he’d rather forget. Things he never went on to tell me.

“This needed to be clean.” Clean was not supposed to feel like this. I poured a drink I didn’t touch and opened the internal report again, scanning lines I had already read twice. Financial clearance approved.Access revoked.Tattoo removal executed.Asset compensation delivered. And yet my thoughts drifted backward, uninvited, replaying everything that had happened before she disappeared, details I had dismissed at the time because dismissal had been easier than attention. I remembered the clinic. The way she’d sat upright on the steel bed, fingers curled so tightly into the sheets her knuckles had gone white, and when the doctor asked about anesthesia, she had answered before anyone else coul

I felt dazed upon hearing his sincere words. The pain I felt was unbearable. Yet, my mind had never been clearer. I stared straight into his eyes and asked, "When did it start?" His gaze flickered. "Six years ago." Something solid deep inside me collapsed. We had been married for 10 years, but he had spent six of them cheating on me. Yet, I hadn't noticed a thing. Grief swallowed me whole. Details I had once brushed aside now came crashing back all at once.