Julian Morrow The Secret History Novels & Stories

Bella Pov A package arrived at my mom's house addressed to me from a publishing company. I opened it and found a manuscript with a cover letter. "Dear Ms Morgan, We are publishing a memoir by Karen Tyler titled 'The Other Woman: A Love Story.' As someone mentioned extensively in the book we wanted to give you an advance copy and an opportunity to provide comment. Please contact us if you would like to respond." My hands shook as I read the letter. Karen was writing a book. A memoir about the affair. About the trial. About everything. And they were publishing it. They were going to put Karen's version of events out into the world and let her profit from destroying my life.

And then, at the very bottom of the box, we got to my diary. The one that I had hidden in a secret compartment in the dresser that I thought my mother knew nothing about. The one that I had written in about the bullying and abuse that I suffered. The one that I had confided some of my darkest and deepest insecurities. Ashley saw my face and frowned. “Jenna?” “It’s my … my … my d-d-d-d-iary,” I whispered. “It’s here. Which means she found it. Which means… she read it.”

And then ,she forced herself to inhale slowly. Ten years; Ten years had passed since the accident. Ten years since the secret that tied four lives together in ways none of them had ever imagined. They had all agreed to move on, to forget, to bury the past where it belonged. But Emma had never truly managed to bury it. Some nights she still woke up with her heart racing, convinced she could hear the dull thud again, the sound that had changed everything. She turned away from the window and walked back toward the kitchen counter. Her phone lay there beside a half-finished cup of tea. The screen suddenly lit up;

Heaving a long and drawn-out sigh, Julie lifted her face and her eyes swept through the large library. The five books she had chosen were unexpectedly all about the Aliens' empire's history. She would love to delve more into their history as she was curious to know, but at that moment, her curiosity about her husband's past was way stronger that she had actually wished she could just find a book personally dedicated just about him. Julie thought that if there ever was a book that contained the details of Alex's secrets and of his past, the book should be looking like… her eyes just wandered around for minutes as if she were looking for something.

He didn't offer ice. He turned around, walking back to me, and pressed one of the glasses into my trembling hand. Julian looked at me. His playboy facade was completely, irrevocably dead. In its place was a man burdened by the darkest, most horrific secret of a brother he loved. "If I tell you this, Thea," Julian said, his voice dropping into a grim, haunting whisper that made the blood in my veins run completely ice-cold, "you can never unhear it."

DNA Don’t Lie They didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. Camille, her mother, and Vivian huddled in a rented beach shack miles from the villa. The storm that had been gathering finally broke, rain lashing the windows as if the heavens themselves were trying to wash away the sins of the past. But no storm could cleanse the truth. Julian’s father. Her mother. The dark tangle of their shared history. And the sickening thought that maybe—just maybe—Julian’s obsession had been born not from love, but from some twisted desire to reclaim a piece of the past.

My heart sank, and I taste the shock on my tongue. He gently retrieved the ledger and held it between us. I watched him, he carried every confession, every secret, with a reverent weight. Then the photo: my mother and Julian’s father, clasping hands in that dusty half-light. My breath left me. I staggered back, the damp stone wall biting into my palm. This was more than a secret, it was my blood calling out. Julian placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “She believed, he believed, they thought they were changing history.”

The city glittered below Julian’s office window, the skyline stretched like a crown of diamonds against the inky night. But he didn’t see it. His attention was consumed by a single, all-consuming objective. Ava Rossi. He had spent months digging into her past, and now the truth sat neatly in a thick manila file on his desk — a chronicle of secrets, abandonment, and the very pain she had fought so hard to conceal. Julian had always known people broke easier when their past was weaponized against them, and Ava was no exception.

Just one more night. He picked a bookstore café this time. Said he wanted to show me his favorite reading book. It was intimate. Thoughtful. He even pulled a worn paperback of *The Secret History* off the shelf and said, “I think you’d love this.” I smiled, heart skipping. “I probably will.” We sipped coffee. Talked about poetry. I felt my walls thinning, cracking in ways I hadn’t prepared for. And then Julian’s voice dropped. Too calm. Too cold.

Elowyn scoffs, steps forward, and hurls a thick leather folder directly at Julia's chest—the exact file containing every dark secret Lucan's spies had unburied. Julia opens the parchment with trembling hands. Before her eyes can finish the first two pages, her scent turns entirely sour with fear, and her face drains of color. She stares at Elowyn in absolute astonishment, unable to comprehend how a human's pack could unearth her blood-crimes so swiftly. Arranging carriage accidents for rival bards, selling royal secrets to rogue packs... every single dirty transaction is written in permanent black ink. If these scrolls reach the High Alpha Council, her skin will be flayed from her bones.