Novel Hearts Novels & Stories

Otherwise, I’ll come after you. —None of that, kiddo! I leave the two of them and go to my office. When I arrive, I see a box on top of the desk. When I open it, I get a scare: inside, there’s an animal’s heart, with a note: I’m very close! I close the box quickly and throw it in the trash, feeling a chill run down my spine.

Or, it was clear as the lights under the chandelier. I held my waist, just where he placed his hands. My body throbbed as I remembered it. Lord Mason had made a move on me. I got to the staircase and stood against the wall, slowly sliding down as I struggled to catch my breath. I clutched my chest, gasping out loud. "Unbelievable," I muttered to myself. I had seen it many times—technically, read it many times in a romance novel, but this was my first time experiencing that. What was that term? Caught in the spur of the moment? Yes, that's definitely what I could call it.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

The struggle continued among the three hearts: Naomi’s heart, hardened by repeated betrayals and now wary of love; Nelly’s heart, ablaze with passion for Adel, craving every whisper, every touch, every inch of his being; and Adel’s own heart, torn between the lingering love he felt for Naomi and the irresistible desire he felt for Nelly, who adored him wholly. On this day… The air in the house was thick with jealousy and the simmering tensions of the three—Adel, Naomi, and Nelly.

". Multiple streams of consciousness traversing open networks.... Unstable, yes—. But alive. Then she felt Adrian. Not his memories. His presence. Raw and unguarded. The loneliness he'd carried. The guilt. The devotion. The unbearable weight of waiting. And beneath it all—. Love. Not possessive. Not worshipful. Simply enduring. She gasped. Her eyes widened as Adrian looked across. Because he felt her too. Every fear. Every fight. Every refusal to disappear. The fury that had kept her alive. Her sweet innocence under the cover of survival. Her most profound and deepest secrets were hidden within.

Exactly what the contract was designed to prevent. She was breaking the rules. And she didn't know how to stop. --- On the fourth night, everything changed. Mira was in the library, curled up in one of the leather armchairs with a book she hadn't touched in an hour. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows—a sudden storm that had rolled in around dusk, turning the city lights into blurred smears of gold and red. Thunder rumbled in the distance, close enough to make the glass tremble.

Apart from silence and those lifeless eyes, she couldn't see any emotion in him at all. At this moment, the autopsy report in her hand felt unusually heavy. Aiden was a person she loved and hated at the same time. Her love for him was true, and her hatred for him was also true. Six years of torment, the indifference towards her and her father, the despair before death, the pages and pages of text in the autopsy report, and the battered body... "This is... this is Isabella's autopsy report." Isabella bit her lip as she spoke, but she stopped halfway.

I stuck the knife into her chest and cut hard until I removed her heart, which had stopped beating. I hold it in my hands and walk towards Emilio, who cries like a kid and doesn't dare look at his mother's dead body. My men extend their hands, and I place the heart in them, making Emilio cry harder and try to move away. But my men don't let him go. "I lied to you," I say, "the one who would leave here in a bag would be your mother." Emilio sobs again. "Now, what will I do with you?"

“I’m going to need more than that, Harry.” He leaned in. “Hester posted these pictures to humiliate you. But what if we spin it? What if we turn it into a tragic love story?” I stared at him, my mind struggling to keep up. “A love story?” “Think about it,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “A woman, madly in love, so overwhelmed with emotion before her wedding that she collapses from exhaustion. But does she give up? No. She fights through it—because her love is stronger than any hardship.”

“That’s because no matter where we are, no matter what happens next...our hearts will always meet in the same place.” She swallowed, her pulse unsteady. “And where is that?” His blue eyes burned into hers. “With each other.” Elena’s breath hitched. Because it was true. They had fought. They had bled. They had broken. But in the end, their hearts had always found their way back. And now, finally, they were exactly where they were meant to be. The End!