Inside Novel Novels & Stories

Much later Charlotte got up from the chair she was in and angrily started to leave the hospital, she was tired of waiting so long and for nothing because there was no trace of this boy all over the place. After several minutes walking Charlotte was already going up the stairs to get to the door of her room, when she entered she could see that the apartment was much cleaner than she had left it the last time, it seemed strange to her, since there was nothing lying on the floor of her boyfriend and without further ado she went to her room to lie down and rest a little. When she entered her room she noticed that there was an envelope on the night table, she found this strange and quickly went t

She hadn’t slept, not really. Just closed her eyes for an hour in her room, with her phone on silent and her thoughts running in endless circles She sat behind her desk, and powered on her monitor. Dozens of news alerts lit up the screen. Most of them were the same as yesterday... Velvet Vine, celebrity gossip accounts, op-ed pieces debating the ethics of CEOs and assistants. But one new headline caught her eye immediately. “Sources Claim Lin Corp Insider is Feeding the Press: Internal Sabotage or PR Strategy?”

The inside account was the ongoing condition of being inside — the knowledge that the other person was there, that the other person's work mattered, that the other person's presence had become as natural as the light through the windows. He wrote one more line in the journal: The inside account is not a state. It is a practice. The practice of being inside, day after day, until the outside is no longer available. The ninth year has made this practice visible. The tenth year will deepen it further. ---

She walked inside his cabin, and the familiarity of the space mingled with the changes in the interior since she had last been there. The decor was different, more modern and sleek, but the layout of the room was still like a memory whispered to her soul. As she looked around, her eyes fell on a wall where something was hidden behind a curtain. She knew this wall; she was familiar with this cabin from her time working at Veritas Innovations. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she walked slowly toward it, her heart beating with a quiet anticipation.

"No wonder he insisted on divorce—who could tolerate a betrayal like that?" I raised a hand for silence, my gaze settling on Victoria's ashen face. Pointing to the structural diagram of the sofa on the screen, I said, "The base of this sofa was hollowed out and fitted with a hidden compartment—just large enough to conceal an adult man." My lawyer immediately initiated a video call, the camera switching to my living room. On screen, a worker demonstrated the mechanism. With a press of a concealed latch on the armrest, the base slowly lifted, revealing a storage space over four feet deep.

He said before his Tyres screeched as they veered into speed. Melinda stood motionless as she took in on her environment. The place she used to call home was a replica of what animals live in. Everything was tupsy turvy, her rescue upholstery, her rescue table, her rescue shelf(furnishing her home was with the help of rescued objects and furnitures). She had developed the habit of reading. Magazines and books were scattered on the floor.

Monica knew secrets. They lived in the marginal notes of contracts, in the half-deleted clauses of NDAs, and in the hushed silences exchanged between boardroom walls. She was a paralegal. Smart, ambitious, with a sharp tongue and sharper mind. And she knew too much.