Natasha Preston Broken Silence Novels & Stories

Felt a prickle in his stomach when he saw her face, so beautiful, now frozen and reddened. Natasha’s jaw loosened as her mouth quirked in an open scream. Only warm, silent air escaped her lips. Her cries were inaudible. She had lost her voice. For a split second, she held his gaze and broke it—distracted by the excruciating pain she felt running through every nerve of her body.

"You thought I was a fool?" She knew it was useless arguing him. "Why are you silent, couldn’t answer?"" "My silence means I am tired of fighting and there is nothing left to fight for, I am tired of explaining my feelings to you but now I don't have the energy to explain them, right now I am on a self healing process and I am trying to forget everything that I ever wanted from you, I have always adapted to the changes in my life and even now I'm going to adjust and I'm not complaining, I am just trying to move on gracefully with all my dignity, I will definitely return your money, sorry and thanks for everything.” with that she walked away tears clouding her vision, rubbing it with the back

She clutched her head and screamed loudly. "No! No! Get away from me!" She extended her hands, continuously striking the air. Christopher took a step forward. As he watched Natasha's frenzied state, complex emotions filled his eyes. In a gentle voice, he said, "Nat, calm down. Tell me what you remembered." Natasha gasped for breath, her chest rising and falling irregularly as she murmured something. Christopher furrowed his brows slightly, trying to listen to her, but her voice was muffled and light—barely audible.

I looked out the window, my reflection staring back at me, unrecognizable. If it had to end that way, then so be it. ___________________________________ Sylvester’s POV. After the door slammed behind Carol, the silence that followed was strange. It wasn’t peaceful or calm; it was heavy. Natasha sat on the couch, her hands resting on her lap. Her eyes were distant, and she looked like she was struggling to stay composed. I sat beside her, but I didn’t know how to reach her. The words I wanted to say were all stuck somewhere between guilt and fear.

Each ring held the same thin hope, and each silence after it, the same dull crash. “She’s not like this,” he kept saying. “Even at her worst—she never disappears.” And he was right. Morgan Blackstone did not vanish. She orchestrated. She calculated. She made an event out of every move, each gesture curated, even her silences purposeful. She announced her exits like a queen abdicating a throne. She had a flair for dramatics—but never without intention. But this? This silence? It didn’t feel strategic. It felt final.

Now, silence felt like suffocation. It was the silence of a held breath, waiting to be broken. The kind that made her pulse beat louder in her ears, the kind that reminded her of the coffin thudding into the earth the day before. The estate no longer belonged to her grief—it belonged to something prowling just beyond the edge of her composure. Nathaniel Hayes.

The machines hummed quietly. Natasha stared at the ceiling, unable to close her eyes. The world outside was calm, too calm. But deep inside her, beneath the stillness, something stirred. A faint static flickered behind her eyelids. For a second, she thought she heard it, a whisper in her own voice. “You can’t destroy what was built to survive.” Her pulse spiked. The monitor beside her beeped rapidly. She gripped the sheet, whispering to herself, “You’re gone. You’re gone.”

Then, from the shadows, a girl’s voice rose—a younger version of herself, whispering: “If silence is survival, then breaking it is rebirth.” The elders turned, their mouths opening wide, but no words emerged. Their silence fractured, splintering like glass. Shards fell into the dust, glinting like stars. Mama’s lips trembled, and for the first time she whispered, Promise. The name rippled through the square, shaking the elders’ circle apart. Promise woke with a gasp, her palms sweating. She grabbed her notebook, scrawling in the dark: Breaking silence is not betrayal. It is birth.