Silence Is Better

This isn’t a book. It’s a violation. Of your rules. Of your morals. Of the last line between want and ruin. These aren’t stories. They’re commands. Each page is a filthy little dare to spread wider, moan louder, and let go of every ounce of control you thought you had. Because once you start reading? You don’t stop. You can’t stop. This is where innocence gets devoured by the mouths it was told to avoid. Where best friends’ daddies, strict professors, and stepbrothers with no self-control break all the rules in your head—and then break you. They’re not gentle. They’re not careful. They’re not here for love. They want your breath caught in your throat. Your thighs shaking from how much you need it. Your body betraying every thought that says “no.” They’ll pin you down with a stare. Fuck your mind until it spirals. Make you beg without even touching you. You’ll gag on the tension. Cry from the pressure. Climax from the ache of what you’re not supposed to want. So keep your fingers ready. Keep the lights low. And baby? Be warned: You’re gonna need a towel by the end. Because this book doesn’t just seduce you. It owns you. Read it loud. Feel it deeper. And don’t you dare pretend you didn’t love every depraved second of it.

I am reborn with memories of my past life. And I carry a secret with me: my fiance, Ethan Larsen, had forged our marriage certificate. The one he had actually married was Serena Gray. But I do not expose his lie. Instead, I quietly submit my application to Greenvale University and eventually become a permanent resident in Verenza. In my past life, I spent a lifetime believing in a lie. I thought I was his wife, until I learned the truth on the day he died. He married Serena out of love but kept me only due to his sense of duty. On the funeral day, Serena arrived dressed in white, holding the actual marriage certificate in her hand. She effortlessly took over all his inheritance, while I was thrown out of the house, penniless, with nothing left but a trampled heart. In this life, I will no longer beg for love nor stay put out of pity. I'll leave quietly and live freely. They can keep acting out their so-called "perfect" love story. Because now, I can see it crystal clear—some women are born to be loved, while others are reborn so they don't have to wait to be loved.

I fell in love with a man I should never have touched—my brother-in-law, Lucas Zahn. The first time he came to our home with my sister, Quincy, they looked like the perfect couple. He smiled at me, held out a peace talisman bracelet, and said it would keep me safe. I wore it like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the old injury in my ankle flared up, he would scoop me into his arms and rush me to the hospital without a second thought. When thugs tried to harass me, he made them scatter with a single look, then spoke to me in a voice so gentle it made my heart tremble. I told myself I understood—that everything he did was only because I was Quincy’s younger sister. Even so, I clung to those rare moments when I could be near him. Until the night Lucas was drugged by an enemy, his life teetering on the edge. If no one acted, he would die. So, I acted. On that reckless, desperate night, my sister walked in. The sight struck her like a lightning bolt, and she collapsed, her weak heart seizing on the spot. What came next was madness. In a frenzy of rage and panic, Lucas tied me to an operating table. His hands—those hands I once longed to hold—cut open my chest and tore my heart out for her. “When the avalanche hit, Quincy nearly died saving me. I swore I’d treat her well for the rest of my life. That means loving her family, too. I never thought you’d be so shameless. “This is what you owe her!” He never knew that I was the one who saved him in that avalanche. So, I died in agony, my love carved out of me—literally. When my eyes opened again, I found myself back on the night he was drunk.

Août 2018, sans s’annoncer, Éric s’arrête au Conssé, l’affaire de quelques minutes... Le Conssé ? Cela fait quinze ans, qu’il n’y a pas mis les pieds ! La vieille maison appartient à Clémentine de Boisin. À quatre-vingt-dix-huit ans, bon-pied, bon-œil, « Tante Clém » est l’âme de la demeure. L’été, elle y accueille sa famille. Le reste de l’année, elle y vit retirée au milieu des souvenirs. Une photo datée de 1942, retrouvée par accident, s’invite. Que vient faire ici, le mystérieux sourire figé sur pellicule, issu d’une époque troublée ? Face à Éric, la porte du grenier s’entrouvre... Emmanuel de Scorraille , diplômé de l’enseignement supérieur, est un romancier passionné d’histoire, de culture et de littérature. Le silence de la terre est une fiction historique, inspirée de l’actualité. « Que s’est-il passé le 27 novembre 2018 ? »

The first thing he takes from me is air. A hand crashes over my mouth, ripping me backward into a darkness so sudden my mind stutters. My scream dies against his palm. My feet leave the ground. My heartbeat slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. “Stop fighting,” he says, his voice a low, controlled threat against my ear. Not shouted. Not rushed. Certain. I claw at his arm anyway. It doesn’t matter. “This is day one,” he whispers. He forces me onto my knees, my breath splintering in sharp, humiliating bursts. His fingers hook under my jaw, lifting my face so I have to see him.. cold eyes, steady rage, a man carved from hatred with a purpose. “You were born into the wrong blood,” he says. “And now you’ll pay for every sin it spilled.” His thumb drags across my trembling lips, testing, measuring. A reminder he owns every choice I have left. “You’ll beg,” he promises. “Not for mercy. For the end.” And something inside me sinks, cold and final. From this moment on, nothing is mine. Not breath. Not choice. Not time. ⸻ Luna Vitiello is the silent daughter of a devil. To the world, a pampered princess. In truth, a girl who has bled in silence for nineteen years. But the man who takes her doesn’t care. To him, she isn’t a victim; she’s the enemy. A living vessel for her father’s sins, a debt meant to be paid in pain. He thinks he’s breaking a spoiled queen. He doesn’t realize he’s crushing a girl who was already broken.

Ma demi-sœur m’a accusée à tort d’être responsable de ses allergies, et, dans un accès de rage, mes trois frères m’ont enfermée dans une cave exiguë, sans lumière ni air. Ils ont même enchaîné la porte. J’ai frappé la porte de la cave, suppliant de toutes mes forces qu’on me laisse sortir. Alors que le frère aîné, un homme d’affaires d’élite, s’apprêtait à partir, une froide colère se lisait sur son visage : « Tu as l’habitude de maltraiter Zoé dans de petites histoires, mais je n’ai pas l’intention de t’embêter pour ça. Cette fois, tu savais que Zoé était allergique aux fruits de mer, et malgré cela, tu l’as laissée en manger. N’est-ce pas là une malveillance délibérée ? Tu ferais bien de réfléchir à ce que tu as fait ! » Le deuxième frère, récemment couronné Roi des Chants, et le troisième, un peintre talentueux, ont grogné : « Une personne aussi perfide que toi, qui trouve toujours des excuses, tu vas rester là-dedans, et que cela te serve de leçon ! » Après avoir dit ces mots, ils ont pris ma demi-sœur, tremblante, dans leurs bras et se sont précipités à l’hôpital. Peu à peu, l’air dans la cave se raréfiait. Chaque respiration devenait un combat. La suffocation m’a envahie, et bientôt, tout ce que j’avais ressenti s’est transformé en un calme absolu. Je suis morte, seule, dans cet espace clos. Trois jours plus tard, lorsqu’ils sont revenus de l’hôpital avec ma demi-sœur, ils se sont souvenus enfin de moi. Mais ils ont ignoré que, dans l’obscurité de cette cave étouffante, j’avais déjà succombé au manque d’oxygène.

Que reste-t-il d’une femme quand tout ce qu’elle croyait être sa vie s’effondre ? Quand l’amour devient humiliation… Quand la confiance devient trahison… Et quand le silence devient plus lourd que les mots. Certaines femmes disparaissent après ça. D’autres reviennent. Mais lorsqu’une femme revient changée, plus forte, entourée de secrets que personne ne peut expliquer une seule question demeure : Qui est réellement devenue Amara? Et surtout… que s’est-il passé pendant ces années où personne ne savait où elle était ? Parce que parfois, ce n’est pas la disparition qui détruit un homme. Mais le retour de la femme qu’il a perdue.

When I return to the day I discover my husband, David Stone, is cheating on me, I immediately switch shifts with my colleague. In my previous life, David had been fooling around with my best friend, Roxanne Lane, in his car when they got into an accident and were rushed to the hospital. When I received the news, I hurried there at once and saw them tangled together, naked, in the aftermath of the wreck. My colleague operated on them, and both of them survived. However, the shock was too much for me, and I passed out. When I woke up, David sent me divorce papers, demanding that I leave the marriage empty-handed. Citing his affair, I demanded half of his assets. In response, he sneered, "Me? Cheating? Where's the evidence?" That was when I remembered that I had fainted before taking any photos. The hospital's surveillance cameras happened to be down that day, leaving me without a shred of proof. I lost the case and walked out with nothing. On the day of the divorce, broke and numb, I stumbled out of the courthouse and was hit by a car. Now, the moment I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day David and Roxanne are taken to the hospital.

In the midst of the darkness of my soul, I have found Chiara Bianchi, a withered flower. I am Wolfgang Krüger, a cruel and heartless man. Seeking revenge, I kidnap Chiara, determined to make her suffer as her uncle has made my family suffer. But Chiara is much more than a defenseless victim. I discover that her beauty hides a deep pain, and her silence tells me stories I could never imagine. Chiara is mute, trapped in a world where words cannot escape her lips. The torture I had planned for her turns into a dangerous game, an internal struggle that I cannot control. Every day, I find myself watering her withered garden, wishing to bring life back to her face and challenging my own cruel instincts.

Tiana Greene arrives on Lycan Isle with nothing but a suitcase, a scarred past, and a desperate need for work. When she is hired as a maid in the sprawling cliff-side mansion of Ross Lycan – the island’s reclusive billionaire – she expects long hours, strict rules, and silence. What she does not expect is the man himself: cold as the steel in his voice, brutally private, and carrying a shadow in his gaze that keeps everyone at arm’s length. Rumours whisper through the island of former staff fleeing in fear, of Ross’s cruelty, and of the mysteriously vanished brother whose memory haunts the mansion halls. Tiana tries to keep her distance, but every forbidden glance and accidental touch tightens the invisible thread pulling them together. When a near-fatal accident on the cliffs pushes Ross into her life more violently than either of them intended, the dynamic shifts. Ross grows protective yet distant, drawn to Tiana in ways he cannot accept – while she fights her own confusion over the man beneath the frost. As the annual island festival approaches, tensions rise. Tiana becomes a target for the island’s elite women, whose humiliation of her sparks a dangerous, possessive reaction in Ross. Social pressure thickens, rumours spread, and the boundaries of employer and servant begin to blur into something darker, deeper, and irresistibly intimate. But everything changes the night Tiana slips into a forbidden study and uncovers the truth about Ross’s past – a past woven with loss, guilt, and secrets buried beneath the island’s stormy surface. Now she must decide. Can she love a man built from shadows? And can Ross love someone brave enough to walk into the darkness he’s spent years trying to hide?