Novel & Cerita Inward Trembling

“Alex… I’m dying.” Amara’s trembling voice over the phone should have shaken her husband, but the renowned Dr. Alex Spencer simply replied, “Buy medicine and let me work.” The world envied their marriage to the perfect doctor, but behind closed doors, Amara carried every pain alone. Until the day she received two verdicts: brain cancer… and a divorce she signed with her own hands. She walked away, whispering, “This is the last meal I’ll ever cook for you,” leaving Alex furious and unable to accept the truth. And when he rushed into a house decorated with flowers and candles, her smiling picture greeted him instead. She was gone. He fell down, weeping like a child. But something still told him, this was all a setup. That Amara was still alive and he won’t rest until he finds her. Is Amara truly still alive? Read to find out!

Just a few days before my wedding, I accidentally come across a post while scrolling online. The title reads, "To the guy getting married in this city, your fiancée's already cheated on you." Curious, I click in to see the gossip, only to realize I'm the one being talked about. A deep male voice plays in the video. "I heard you're getting married?" The woman in the frame, bare-backed and trembling, chokes back a sob. "After you left, I realized you're still the one I love most. I'm done with him. Take me away, please!" The moment I hear her voice, it feels like someone punches me straight in the chest. Then I notice something on her wrist—the luxury couple's bracelet I gave her just yesterday. And in that instant, I feel like the biggest joke of all. Turns out the fool was me.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

"Remember who the fucking Alpha is here!" Reinhardt roared as he rose to his feet, every muscle tightening. His scarlet eyes flared, reflecting across the room as his fangs pushed through his gums. "I am your elder brother. And remember the goal," he growled, dangerous and trembling with fury. Bertolt turned, his own eyes now glowing yellow. He stepped forward, fearless. "Hmmn. A selfish, ego‑driven bastard who will use anyone, sacrifice anyone, to achieve that goal? That’s who you want me to remember?" he snarled. "If you won’t kill Lisa, I will. Or is that the problem? Are you in love? Or just using her too?" Reinhardt snapped. His fist slammed into Bertolt with a thunderous crack, sending him crashing through the hospital wall and reducing it to rubble. "You fucking bastard!" Reinhardt roared. "You know how much pain I endure for this family, and you dare call me selfish?"

Riven is carrying the last child the world was never meant to see. An outlawed Omega, swollen with a forbidden pregnancy, he’s been hunted from the moment he drew breath—his scent alone enough to drive Alphas into madness. He’s survived by hiding, running, and trusting no one. Until he stumbles into the territory of Cazriel Vane. The Hunter Alpha. Ruthless. Unyielding. Bred to spill blood and erase threats like Riven from existence. But when Cazriel catches him, trembling and defiant, something ancient snaps into place. Something primal. Something irreversible. Now bound by a curse that defies every law, the coldest Alpha alive finds himself tethered to the boy he was meant to kill. And protecting him might be the only thing that saves what’s left of his soul. The world wants Riven dead. Cazriel wants him safe. And the child growing between them? It might burn the entire kingdom to the ground.

On the day I miscarried and suffered from haemorrhage, my husband posted a photo of a newborn’s tiny feet on his Instagram Story. The caption read: “Welcome, little angel. Daddy will always protect you.” With trembling hands, I called him. “The baby’s gone. Can you come to the hospital?” On the other end, I heard a baby crying, followed by the man’s impatient voice. “In that case, take good care of yourself. Louise just gave birth and needs someone to care for her. I can’t leave. “Besides, the dead shouldn’t compete with the living for affection. Got it?” He hung up right after. I broke down alone on the hospital bed, and when I finally wiped away my tears, I dialed the number of his sworn enemy, Levi Snow. “Marry me, and the entire Wright Corporation will be my dowry. All I want is for you to bring Finn Yeaton down. Do we have a deal?”

"Matteo, please..." I whispered. "Beg louder," he commanded, his lips brushing my ear as his free hand squeezed my breast, pinching the nipple until I gasped. "Please, Matteo. I need you." He smirked, satisfied, before sinking to his knees. His mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue parting me, slow and devastating. My hands flew into his hair, pulling, guiding, but he held me still, forcing me to endure every languid lick, every tease. When he finally sucked my clit into his mouth, I screamed, my legs trembling around his shoulders. "Come for me, piccola," he growled against my slick heat. The vibrations of his voice shattered me, pleasure ripping through me so violently I nearly collapsed, but he held me firm, drawing out every last wave until I was shaking.

I had just suffered a miscarriage. With trembling fingers, I called my husband, only to hear the sounds of a rowdy party on the other end. "Don, this was supposed to be your anniversary gift for your wife," a voice teased amidst the cheers. "Giving it to Miss Lena instead—aren't you afraid your lady will throw a fit?" Vincent's voice was deep and dismissive. "Lena's brother died saving my life. I owe her. As for Isabella... she's gentle. She'll understand." He paused, his tone turning colder. "Besides, she came to me with those scandalous rumors surrounding her past. The resources the Corleone family has given her over the years are more than enough to compensate for these little grievances." As blood stained the hem of my skirt, I silently pressed the end-call button. Tears fell uncontrollably. He doesn't know yet—the baby is gone, and I am finally done with him.

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT! “Kneel before me,” she commanded in a trembling voice. The man blushed in anger. “So, you asked for my presence to prove to yourself that you’re higher than me?” “Yes!” The man shook his head. “I will not do what you want.” “I’m paying you much, Mr. Novitch,” she said. “I have dignity. And kneeling in front of you is not a part of my work. If you can’t forgive me, fine.” “You’re rude!” she shouted. “You are ruder! Even if your whole being is covered with gold now, it doesn’t change the fact that you get naked in front of me to have bread on your plate.” He suddenly grabbed her tightly in both arms. “You still have nothing to brag about to me, Sam.” - Andrius is a well-known photographer, owns a business, and has a successful love life. Not until Samantha, the stripper, entered the picture and became a threat to his life, specifically his heart.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.