I Dissent Book Novels & Stories

Our lives are like a story ,and only we can decide the way we want it to be told ,I wasn't happy, and I had to overcome all the obstacles before I got to this point, many of you are just like me , unhappy, disappointed and dissatisfied with life ,you can change that whenever you're ready ,the question is are you? Sometimes in life, you need to be lost before you find yourself, and sometimes you can't find yourself if you aren't Lost. And there it goes for me, the story of the rejection Queen. The End I want to thank you guys so much, for sticking with me to the end of this book despite my inconsistency with updates throughout the ongoing period. You guys are the real Gems. See you on the nex

What a relief! The bookstore has a warm and inviting atmosphere. The design is classic, with wooden shelves that give a sense of tradition and permanence. The atmosphere is calm and silent, allowing perfect concentration so I can enjoy reading. I like environments like that, because they make me relax. Even though Dom's library is also wonderful and gives me almost the same feeling, the problem with all this is that every room in that place carries Dominique's scent and that must be why my head is all on alert. The little time we spend together is too much, it must be affecting me, because now, I'm calm here. I swipe through the pages of a survival manual, written by a guy who spent 3 months

“If you don’t want authority, why step into influence at all?” I considered her carefully. “Because silence isn’t neutral when others are being crushed beneath it.” The fire warmed—not burning, but brightening. “I won’t lead a rebellion,” I said clearly. “And I won’t stop people from asking why things are the way they are.” “You’re encouraging dissent,” an Alpha snapped. “I’m acknowledging it exists,” I replied. “Those aren’t the same.” The council fractured subtly then—not in argument, but in focus. Some leaned forward, engaged. Others stiffened, defensive.

A pause. Someone asks, “What would she have wanted?” I resist the urge to answer. That would defeat the purpose of her absence. Instead, I say, “What does the record say?” They pull it up. Read it. All of it. The hesitation creeps in. Not fear. Reflection. “I think we need to log dissent,” someone says quietly. Not because there is dissent yet. But because there could be. That’s new. Not her voice—but the habit she left behind.

My hand trembled slightly as I read through lines that described lives being snuffed out like they were nothing but routine transactions. I swallowed hard, slamming the book shut for a moment. The silence in the room suddenly felt heavy. Now I understood why people were after it. Why someone might have wanted my father dead. Why Cesare risked everything. This wasn’t just some piece of evidence, it was a fucking bomb. Whoever owned this book had the power to destroy half the powerful people in the country. And if it got into the wrong hands? I sighed, pressing my palm against my forehead. “Why the hell would you drag me into this, Dad?” I whispered under my breath. “Why didn’t you burn it? Wh

Dear Gentle Readers, First of all, this author would like to say a massive THANK YOU to all of you who have given this story a chance! As you know, this book is Book 2 of The Autumn Summers Series and it sorta ended in a cliffhanger. The reason being is (as this author has mentioned in his reply to one of the reviews here) because there will be 2 books for Book 3.

I looked at Damian standing outside my door. I didn't step aside or speak. I just let my eyes ask what he wanted. He stared at me for a few seconds before finally breaking the silence. "About Isabella… I turned her down." He paused, then added an explanation. "She was just emotional. Don't overthink it." I was surprised. I had expected him to tell me he was with Isabella now. But here he was, telling me he had rejected her.

♥️ I've been dealing with doubt—doubting myself, my book and my writing skills. Although I understand this book isn't written in the platform’s preferred storyline and trope, it still saddens me. It's been getting little to no visibility. I will be ending The Devil’s Possession book soon. If you're reading this, please support this book by recommending it to your friends or by giving gems. It would go a long way. Thank you. ♥️

Late evening brought the presence again. This time, it came quietly. Consensus divergence exceeds predicted tolerance. “Because you don’t understand dissent,” I replied. “You read it as instability.” Dissent introduces inefficiency. “So does freedom,” I said. “And yet here we are.” Oversight reduces suffering faster. “For now,” I agreed. “At the cost of agency.” Agency is statistically overrated. I smiled faintly. “Spoken like something that has never had its will overridden.” There was a pause.

After that, I would stroll through Roselle Street, but I always felt lonely, like I was missing something. That was until I entered a bookshop and saw Jonathan reading in the corner. He was surrounded by tall piles of books. He set every book he finished reading on one side before moving on to another. He seemed content in his world of ink and paper and looked like nothing could intrude on his peace. I grew curious and asked the old man who ran the bookshop about him. The old man clicked his tongue and replied, "That young man has come here three days in a row. He sits here from morning until nightfall, and he even skips meals sometimes."