Sentence For Quiet

After the college entrance exam, the school's reigning beauty dragged me into a wager over our scores. "Only the girl with the higher marks is worthy of being Eric's girlfriend." Eric Lowell scoffed. "That's enough, Jocelyn. My relationships aren't yours to dictate." Then, in front of everyone, he confessed to me. I mistook it for the answer to a long-held crush. With the crowd egging us on, I flushed and said yes. That night, he took me back to his place. From then on, we hardly spent a night apart. Before application season, I went to his house, hoping we would apply to the same university. Instead, I overheard part of a phone call. "Jocelyn, everything's ready: the photos, the videos. Just like you asked." Jocelyn's laughter drifted through the receiver, light and pleased. "You must've gone to so much trouble~ Then let's wait until the school assembly the day after tomorrow and stream it to the whole school. I'm curious to see how Tessa plans on applying to those top-tier universities after that." "Eric," she added casually, "you're not having second thoughts, are you?" He hesitated, then answered, "Why would I? If anyone's at fault, it's her for not knowing her place. What right does she have to keep scoring higher than you?" I set the custom ring down, opened my email, and accepted the Oxford offer that had been waiting for me for a week.

Lola Smith never expected her quiet job at a medical clinic to pull her into the orbit of Melvin Walker, a devoted husband caring for a dying wife. Their connection begins as compassion, but loneliness draws them into a secret affair neither of them fully intended nor can easily walk away from. As Emily’s health declines, Lola and Melvin cling to each other in stolen moments that blur the line between comfort and love. But after Emily’s passing, grief drives Melvin into silence, leaving Lola questioning everything, including her place in his life. When Lola discovers she is pregnant, she faces the most decisive choice of her life: hold on to a man still haunted by loss or walk away to protect the new life growing inside her. Their love is messy, forbidden, and transformative forcing both to confront what they truly deserve, even if it means choosing themselves over each other.

My parents' enemy kidnaps me and livestreams chopping off my fingers just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire Internet searches for my parents. But what they don't know is that the captain who appeared in the livestream is my biological father. At that moment, he's on a beach in Hashford, setting off magnificent fireworks for his adopted daughter. And on their barbecue table, the livestream of my fingers being severed is playing. Later on, when I survive long enough to be rescued, I reach out my mangled hand to touch my parents. They recoil in disgust and leave without looking back, taking the adopted daughter out for Wersole food. But they don't know that the thing hidden within my mangled palm will make them regret their actions beyond measure.

After years of running from her past, Lissa returns to the one place she never wanted to see again—her childhood home. The town hasn’t changed, but Lissa has. Now a mother, a wife, and a survivor, she’s trying to rebuild a life while standing on the crumbling foundation of her trauma. Just a few months. Just until she finds her footing. But the house doesn’t let go so easily. It smells of mildew and memory. Dust covers more than furniture—it coats every secret Lissa tried to bury. As she navigates motherhood, old friendships, and a strained relationship with her sister, Lissa discovers more than ghosts in the attic. A photograph violently scribbled out. A letter from someone she hoped was lost to time. And a journal that brings her back to the girl she used to be. Her husband, Colt, tries to be her anchor. Her son, Lucas, is her reason to fight. But a single name—just one letter, T—is all it takes to fracture her resolve. The past isn’t dead. It’s waiting in the basement. In a letter tucked behind old receipts. In the quiet corners of her memory where no one else can go. As the days pass, the house begins to feel like a trap.Lissa must decide if she’s strong enough to dig through the wreckage of her past… or if some secrets are better left buried. Told with raw emotion and atmospheric suspense, House of Quiet Screams is a story of trauma, resilience, and the silent strength it takes to confront what once felt un faceable. For Lissa, surviving was never the end of the story—facing what comes after might be the beginning.

Elara Mooncrest has been silent since childhood, her voice buried beneath layers of trauma. Forced into a political marriage with the ruthless Alpha Kieran of Blackwood Pack, she becomes nothing more than a burden—ignored, mocked, and dismissed. But beneath her fragile exterior lies a survivor’s spirit, and when darkness threatens to destroy everything, Elara refuses to remain voiceless. As ancient powers awaken within her, alliances shatter, obsessions ignite, and fate demands more than silence. She was given as a pawn, but will she rise as a queen?

Liora is an omega the pack calls defective; she cannot shift, is weak and disposable. Only one person ever saw her as more. Darren Hart, the Alpha’s son, was her secret refuge and he never judged her. Yet her heart has always betrayed her, racing only for one man she should never desire. Alpha Lucas Hart is power incarnate and the one man Liora feels bound to by something deeper than instinct. When she is framed for a crime she didn’t commit, Liora is spared execution for one reason… She is chosen as the surrogate for Darren, the Alpha Heir and taken into the palace, where she becomes a pawn in a dangerous game of politics and bloodlines. As her true power begins to surface, so does a truth the Moon can no longer hide. She was never meant to be an omega but a force. And loving the Alpha may be the most dangerous thing of all.

We had been in love for years, and everyone believed that Henley was utterly devoted to me. Even I thought so—until the day I saw him in bed with a younger woman. I lost all will to live and chose the most peaceful way to end it all. When Henley found out I had donated my body, he completely lost his mind.

After a vicious family power struggle, I fled to a small border town in the south. I took on a new identity and found work in a flower shop. Everyone believed I was dead. Then one day, someone from the family came to the shop to order flowers for the birthday party for Roman Jackson, the head of the Jackson family. The person who arrived was my former Underboss. She stared at me in shock and demanded to know why I had not returned to the Jackson family if I was still alive. She told me that Roman had kept watch over my grave for two years and that he had attempted suicide three times in the cemetery, each time stopped by someone else. Roman was my ex-husband. He had an adopted sister, Liliana. Fifteen years ago, her parents were gunned down while covering Roman's father's escape from a rival family. After that, Liliana became Roman's most cherished sister. She tampered with my armored car. The brakes failed, and the vehicle plunged off a cliff. I broke three ribs. Roman mobilized every resource the family had and pulled me back from the brink of death. She bribed my bodyguard and laced my red wine with a neurotoxin. I lay unconscious in the villa for three days and nights. Roman sealed off the entire city, hunted down everyone involved, and made them pay in blood. She tried to kill me, and he saved me. This absurd cycle went on for three years. Until the last time. She detonated a bomb at an arms deal I was overseeing, burning seventy percent of my body. As I was lifted onto the ambulance stretcher, I clutched Roman's suit and, with the last of my strength, begged him. "Kill her, Roman. She sabotaged the deal. Those are the family rules." He crouched down, his fingers brushing my bloodstained face. His voice was calm, almost cruel. "Liliana didn't mean to. Let it go. For the sake of what her parents sacrificed for the family." In that moment, my heart to him died completely.

What a small world. As Elaine Johnson was checking in at the hotel front desk, she happened to bump into Jasper Carter's young mistress —a girl who looked like an innocent college student. She was dressed in a simple white cotton dress, pure and demure, with a shy, sweet smile. "Hello, here's your room key. You'll be staying in the executive suite on the top floor," the receptionist said. "Thank you, miss," the girl replied softly, taking the key. Just then, her phone rang. Elaine overheard her speaking bashfully to the person on the other end: "Mr. Carter, I... I'm already here. When will you be coming?" Her tone was soft, a little nervous, filled with affectionate anticipation. A moment later, Elaine heard her add, "Mhm, I'll wait for you. No rush. Please drive carefully, Mr. Carter." The girl's voice was so sweet and tender, it could have melted anyone's heart. Elaine could not help thinking that her husband had good taste — the girl was young and beautiful, gentle and thoughtful, the kind of woman any man would find hard to resist.

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.