Remove Search History Novels & Stories

A receptionist at the far corner of the room. "How can I help- oh, oh, Alpha Kalina!" Her face with utter shock she bows her head as if I was royalty. She knew my full name as well. What the hell did mom keep from me. My eyes were burning no doubt my contacts needed changing. Mom got these special contacts that formed to my eyes and melted away after a month. No one at school could ever find them. Mom just had a good doctor I assumed. Now I'm not so sure. Getting a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, I looked rough as hell, blood still caked to my face and hair matted up, but my eyes. They were turning a deep purple. What In the world. I'd never seen anything like it. I brushed it off as

She just stood there, holding a smartphone that was vibrating with alerts. "The 'Restore' wasn't a clean process, Miss Kaima," she said. Her voice was flat, like she had spent the last hour screaming and had finally run out of emotion. "When you forced the system to bring everyone back, it didn't just bring the 'Active' files. It brought the **History**." I looked at Rowan. He was trying to sit up, his face tight with pain. "What do you mean, 'History'?"

Angled my screen away from him and checked my browser history with the calm, methodical precision of a woman who was screaming internally. Everything looked normal. Tabs as I’d left them. Documents open. Nothing obviously disturbed. But in my recent history – between the research tab I’d left open and the email I’d checked before leaving – was the login page for my blog platform. I hadn’t opened it. Hadn’t been near it. The last time I’d accessed the blog was at home, on my phone, two days ago. Someone had typed the URL into my browser while I was getting coffee. Someone had navigated to the login page. Whether they’d gotten in – whether they had my password, whether they’d tried, whether th

The only person who spent time there was Phillip, and he’d been spending more time than usual locked away over the past several months. My first instinct was to check his computer, on the assumption he was dumb enough not to even think about deleting his browsing history. It was p**n, all p**n, and in vast amounts. I clicked into his history file, and found more than I could have ever imagined. There were timestamps for each tab, and it showed that he literally sat in there for hours and hours, and all of his searches and the videos he watched were the same.

She held a small spoon, shoving chocolate ice cream into her mouth with a furrowed brow, entirely oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. I switched the command on my phone to mirror her computer screen. I wanted to see what was passing through my fiancée’s screen. When the words from her real-time search history popped up on my display, the muscles in my face relaxed. A short, genuine smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. She had typed into the search bar: HOW TO ESCAPE A MARRIAGE WITH A CRUEL MAN? Right below it, the next line of history showed: HOW TO DEAL WITH A PSYCHOPATH?

I nodded, “But if I use another service, no.” It was something I’d learned from another prostitute who would call one of her more stable clients at night to have phone sex or lure him in. That man had bought her about three months into her starting and I’d never seen her again. She was one of the nicest, craftiest women I had ever met. I searched the app store for what she used to use and couldn’t find it. There were others, but I didn’t want Matt to be able to check what apps I had downloaded. At least with a covert browser and a clearing of my history, I could hide my activity.

Perhaps I was the one who was dubious about Jacques, I thought. Then I went to his browser history. Men, Syl included, often had a secret they found it hard to tell. That secret lay in their browser history, where they buried traces of indecency among logs of what seemed like visiting normal websites. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. I simply wanted to know what Jacques was like before. To my disappointment, he had cleared it out entirely, as if he anticipated ‌that I would check up on his past today. I gave up on finding anything about him. If he wanted to hide everything, knowing his personality, he was stubborn to allow anyone to find out.

We can't make someone dislike someone. I cleared the search history and restarted the computer... I should keep my son's identity hidden from everyone, including my husband. He'd be furious if he knew anything about it. ➪➪➪➪➪☝︎︎☝︎︎ʀᴇᴀᴅ|ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ|ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ|ʟɪᴋᴇ☝︎︎☝︎︎➪➪➪➪➪