I Can Still Hear His Voice Novels & Stories

Elowen Renshaw thought she had it all– a future with a man she sacrificed everything for. But betrayal struck her when her groom chose her half sister over her under the guise of a dying wish. Humiliated and broken, she made a vow never to be the victim again. Not until Ryan Sylvarn came into play with a proposal—"Marry me Gattina. Give Owen a taste of his medicine.” Ryan was a renowned playboy notorious for his acts, more still he was best friends with her ex. ……. "You knew I was drunk yet you still took advantage of me knowing I'm your best friend's fiancée." "Oh that." He carelessly dismissed it and dropped the file he was holding on the bed beside me. "I thought he's marrying your sister, why keep the title?” ……… Will Elowen and Ryan be able to stay within the terms of their contract marriage?

TRIGGER WARNING!!! YOUR MORALS WILL NOT SURVIVE THIS BOOK!!! This story contains themes of obsession, possessiveness, stalking, emotional manip-ulation, and psychological control. It is unapologetically intense and unsettling in all the right (and wrong) ways. Be guided. *** Eight years ago, Shannon watched her stepbrother get handcuffed and taken to jail for a crime she committed. He took the fall for it without hesitation. Not because he was noble. God, no. But because obsession looks a lot like love when you're seventeen and scared. After that night, she never went to visit him in prison, nor did she reply to any of his letters. She buried him with the past and went on to live a peaceful life without him. But the past never forgets. Eight years later, when she was living a simple, peaceful life, had a decent job and a husband who loved her deeply, Shannon's past came knocking at her door. Strange things start happening... Doors left open. Favorite things mysteriously re-placed. Eyes she can't see but feels always watching her. Everyone says she's paranoid. Everyone says He is still in jail. No one believes her when she says she had a STALKER. Her judgment is already upon her because, now, HE is out of prison. And the first place he goes is her doorstep, because he says she owes him her life. And he's come to collect what's his. How far can Shannon run from a man who never stopped loving her in the most ter-rifying way? A man who'd kill anyone, even her husband, just to make her his? HIS NAME IS KENAI... The Stalker You Never Want To Have. *** If you enjoy slow-burn stalker dynamics and morally gray characters, this one's for you.

I was Alpha Adrian’s mate, his Luna, and the woman who held his pack together for ten years. Then he decided Bianca needed “protection.” Protection meant giving her his name in front of the Pack Council. It meant letting her stand at his right hand, wear the Luna jewels, and let her daughter call him Daddy while our son waited for him at home. He called it duty. He called it temporary. He expected me to understand. I did. I understood that every time he had to choose, he chose someone else. So I stopped begging for the place that was already mine. I took our son, walked into the severance ritual, and tore our mate bond out by the roots. Adrian thought I would come back once his guilt caught up with him. But by the time he realized what he had lost, I was already free.

 “Now that I’ve gotten alcohol inside you," he says, "perhaps you can tell me why you’re stalking me.” “I came to seduce you, Mr. Hart." --- On the evening of my boyfriend's twenty-fifth birthday, I caught him kissing my cousin sister. The selfish prick dumped me. He chose her. After everything we've been through together. Now I must have my revenge. Mike stole my heart and betrayed me with my own cousin. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and I can feel that fury igniting within me. Mike took what mattered to me, and now, I’m going to take something equally valuable to him. Yes, Mike’s father. His single and very rich father. The only person Mike cares about other than himself.  I’ll steal his father’s heart. And I’m going to ruin Mike. Let the game begin.

I come home and find my husband's female best friend, Winona Langdon, who claims to be one of the guys, sleeping in my bed. I bring up divorce with Lucas Gardner for the 99th time. This time, he finally snaps. "Natania Simmon, are you done making a scene? Are you throwing a tantrum again just because Winona stayed over at our place and slept in our bed?" I answer calmly, "That's right." His friends throw their arms around his shoulders and chime in sarcastically, "Don't take it to heart, Lucas. Women get jealous easily. Oh, how I miss the days when we all slept under the same covers together." Lucas smiles bitterly and says, "When you guys get married in the future, remember this—you can't afford to mess with jealous women. Still, there's no helping it. Natania just loves me too much. She's trying to scare me by throwing divorce around. "Listen. In less than three days, she'll come crawling back to me." The derisive smirk playing on my lips deepens. In our seven years of marriage, Winona stays at my house whenever she pleases. I watch with my own eyes as Lucas and Winona grow increasingly inappropriate in their interactions. They reach into each other's pants. They also share the same straw and wash each other's underwear. And now... She even sleeps in my bed! These last seven years were not love. I was just foolishly blind. Right in front of everyone, I dial a number and say, "Dad, I'm done messing around out here. Your heiress is ready to come home."

On the day the real heiress was welcomed home, my fiancé was already sleeping with her. Staring at the blue pills and torn lingerie scattered on the floor, I told them to get the hell out of my wedding house. But a second later, my father stormed in and slapped me hard across the face. "Who are you to tell her to leave? Bella is our real daughter!" "Elena, you’re just an outsider we took in by mistake. You’re the one who needs to get out." Marco wrapped his arm around Bella, his tone impatient: "Elena, I’m the heir to the Moretti family. I can’t marry a mongrel with impure blood like you. If you don't want to bring shame to the family, be smart and go tell the Don the wedding is off tomorrow." Bella gave a coy smile and tossed a stack of cash at my feet like she was giving alms: "Sister, I know Marco and I hurt you, but we’re true love." "Take this as your severance package. Take the money and get lost." I suppressed my rage and stepped forward to throw these disgusting people out, but Marco shoved me violently. "I told you, I’m not marrying you! Keep pestering us, and don't blame me for getting rough!" My stomach slammed against the table. I laughed out of pure anger. Who said I wanted to marry him? The one I’m going to marry is his father—the Don of the Moretti family, Lorenzo.

Ken spent a fortune on our wedding. But on our wedding night, he left me to take care of his crush, Jenny Johnson, who was struggling with severe depression. I grabbed a chainsaw, took down her door, and demanded a divorce. Jenny's eyes were swollen from crying. "I'll leave Ken alone, back to you. My life isn't as important as your happiness—" Ken, distressed beyond words, warned me, "Mayson White, listen to me. If Jenny ends up taking her own life because of you, you'll pay with yours." Later, he caught me cheating with his best friend. With red eyes, he pleaded, "Mayson, break up with him. I can pretend none of this happened. Let's just be together." "No way," I said. "He'll threaten to end his life if he never sees me. You're such a good guy and wouldn't want to force him to go through with it, would you?"

My boss, Patrick Hoffman, has made a bad investment that fails. When the board wants someone to be held accountable for the loss, he makes me the fall guy. Now that I've been fired from the company, I can no longer make my mortgage payments. My wife, Georgia Lowe, ends up falling seriously ill as well. In dire need of money, I ask Patrick for my severance pay. Sitting in his luxury car, he simply tosses me a few hundred dollars, saying, "You expect me to give you severance pay? I lost over a billion dollars because of you, Heath! How dare you ask me for money? "Here. Take these hundred-dollar bills and buy your wife a decent coffin!" My fists clench as I watch him drive off. Later that night, I drop a bombshell in a group chat filled with investors and business owners. "Seeking employment—bringing years of professional experience in cooking the books to the table. My former boss has nothing but praise for my abilities!"

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout. They didn't even find a body. As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: 【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】 【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】 【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】 A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York. Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?” I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”

The day before the wedding, I go to the bridal shop to pick up my custom wedding dress. The clerk informs me apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ms. Stone. Yesterday, a woman called Ms. Lovelett came and picked up your dress." My best friend, Sherry Lancelot, suddenly remembers something. "Isn't that the surname of your fiance's secretary? He's so thoughtful. He had your dress picked up in advance for you." But in the next second, Mary Lovelett posts a social media update. In her photo, she is wearing my one-of-a-kind custom wedding dress that is worth hundreds of millions and posing coquettishly in front of the camera. The caption reads, "Zachary is the best boss in the world. I casually said I wanted to take some portraits. He generously bought me a globally limited outfit for a photoshoot so that I can take the photos to my heart's desire!" I look at the post and reply coldly, "That's the wedding dress I personally chose for myself. Since when did it become your photoshoot outfit?" The post is deleted instantly. My fiance, Zachary Everdon, calls me angrily. "What nonsense comment was that? I just lent your stupid dress to Mary for a bit. It's a cheap, one-time thing anyway. I can buy you a dozen more to make up for it." I let out a cold laugh and record the call. Then, I send him a screenshot of the 200 million dollars purchase record. I say, "Sure. Will you pay by check or by direct transfer? Hurry up. Once you pay, we're calling off the engagement."