Silence Like Glass

اسم الرواية: صدى الصمت (Echo of Silence). • المؤلفة: [نـيـــسُوا] . • تاريخ الإصدار: مارس، 2026. • التصنيف: دراما، رومانسية معاصرة، غموض (Suspense Romance). • الحالة: رواية قيد التأليف الحصري (Limited Edition Content). • حقوق الملكية: تم توليد هذه القصة من خيالي خاص، وهي نسخة وحيدة وفريدة غير منشورة في أي منصة أخرى أو قاعدة بيانات عامة. لماذا لا يوجد لها "مصدر" خارجي؟ لأنني قمت ببنائها من الصفر (From Scratch) 1. الشخصيات: (سيرين و ادهم) . 2. الحبكة: دمج فكرة "متجر الزهور" مع "عازف التشيلو المكلوم" هو مزيج ابتكاري خاص.

.“You should not look at me like that.”Kate turns, slow, heat sliding under her skin. “Like what.” “Like you already know how this ends.” Her breath stutters. “Then stop standing so close.” “I cannot,” Nathan says. “And you should walk away.” Neither of them moves. Kate Brown lives by rules her mother carved into her bones. Be polite. Be careful. Never want what you cannot have. So when she visits her best friend for the holidays, she expects noise, comfort, safety. She does not expect Nathan Reid. Her best friend’s father. Older. Calm. Watching her like he sees straight through the good girl mask she wears so well. Their first meeting lingers long after the night ends. It steals her sleep. It coils in her thoughts. The more she tries to forget him, the louder her body answers. Something inside her wakes up. Something hungry. Something reckless.Her mind screams no while her body leans closer. Stolen glances turn heavy. Accidental touches last too long. Silence becomes loaded. Want becomes dangerous. Every moment with him feels like standing at the edge of a fall she might enjoy too much. Nathan knows better. He knows the line. Single or not, he is forbidden. And yet Kate is everything he should not crave and everything he cannot stop wanting. Caught between control and desire, Kate must choose what to obey. The rules that shaped her. Or the man who makes her feel alive for the first time.

She woke up to any empty bed , "panicking" she called 911 . She tried to sound freaked out but before she could say much about the matter at hand, her husband walked in . She was gravely disappointed but quickly masked it with relief . Reluctantly ,she cut the call and hugged her husband ,only for him to tense up. " who was on the phone?" He asked pulling back from the hug . She kept quiet knowing what would come next if she had said 911 . When she didn't reply ,he took her silence for an answer. He knew she was messed up but calling 911 all the time had been extreme. Annoyed he went farther away from her facing anywhere but at her . " you got to stop doing that" He clenched his jaw,really upset . " stop doing what?" ' stop wishing me dead ' he thought "Calling freaking 911 everytime I'm not around you " Silence followed. She thought he meant that as in I can't breathe without Lucas beside me kinda vibe but no... He knew. "I'm not asking you to go climb Mount Everest or jump off a cliff .I'm just asking you to grow up,Jen .You're a 22 year old act like it " He made his annoyance evident .He made no attempt to hide how pissed he was . His voice was harsh , cold and very very distant. It was always like that ,one had to get used to it She wanted to cry so bad that she had been caught but she knew he had known for a very long time now . 'Crying now would only prove him right' she thought. Finding her presence irksome, he left the room. Maybe getting married to Lucas was just crazy . Lucas was handsome ,rich ,independent. He was everything any girl wanted . everything that her father wanted for her .

After a mysterious fire destroys her life, Elena Rawlings is forced into a 100-day contract marriage with the ruthless Alexander Vance. The rules are simple: don't enter the East Wing, provide bi-weekly blood draws, and never talk to the woman in the mirrors. But as the line between high-tech science and dark obsession blurs, Elena discovers she isn't a wife, she’s a biological vessel for Alexander’s digital sister. In a house made of glass and lies, Elena must decide if she will run for her life or stay to conquer the man who owns her soul.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

For our college graduation trip, I spent a whole week glued to various travel apps, finally snagging a half-price couples' train package. I was just about to share the good news with my boyfriend and call it a night when his message came through. "Anna's going through a breakup. She needs to get away and clear her head. We're gonna use those tickets." "See if you can grab yourself another single ticket. It's not that much anyway - like five or six hundred bucks." For a moment, I was speechless. Before he received the scholarship my dad’s pack had specifically established for him, five or six hundred dollars used to be his entire monthly allowance. After a moment of silence, I picked up my phone: “Dad, prepare a private jet for me. I want to take a trip alone before graduation.”

“Let me be your real wife for just one month, Daven.” It was a simple request—one that sounded like the last plea of a heartbroken woman. But to Althea Grayson, it was her pride. The price she asked for the love she had given, yet never once received in return. She had known from the start: their marriage was never about love. Daven Callister had married her out of duty, pressured by his grandmother. There were no tender embraces, no loving glances—only cold silence and an empty house that never felt like home. Still, Althea held on. She tried to be a good wife, clinging to the hope that one day, Daven’s heart might soften. But her hope was shattered by betrayal—Daven wanted to marry someone else. The woman he truly loved. With or without Althea’s consent. And his entire family stood behind his decision. Heartbroken and disillusioned, Althea made one final request: one month of being loved like a real wife. One month... before she walked away forever. Daven thought it was a desperate move—pathetic, even. But that single month changed everything. The way Althea smiled, the way she loved so fully. Even the way she left—left something behind that lingered in Daven’s heart. And now, Daven was lost. When the love he had never once recognized finally revealed itself... was it already too late? Or should he fight against everything—just for one more chance?

During a battle with the vampires, I get injured by a silver dagger in order to protect my mate, Evan Stormhowl. Not only am I incapable of giving birth since then, but my wolf also sinks into an eternal slumber. Because of those reasons, I lose my status as the strongest warrior in the pack and become a laughingstock. For seven years, I grit my teeth and endure the mocking comments from others while doing my best to carry out my duties as the Luna, just so I can preserve Evan's dignity as the Alpha. But he can be seen with an arm wrapped around Lilian Wolfhart's waist at the hunting rite that's only hosted once per five years. When the celebratory banquet is in full swing, an elder named Lucas Nightshade clinks his wine glass while guffawing loudly. "Alpha Evan, I know you've been yearning for Lilian this whole time. Why don't you let her have your pup tonight?" The bonfire illuminates Lilian's bright red cheeks, making her look delicate and beautiful. I let out a cold chuckle before dumping a glass of red wine onto Lilian, who's still fantasizing about having Evan's pups. "I reject that suggestion! I, Erin Bloodmoon, will never share my mate with other she-wolves!" Since seven years have already passed, everyone else must have already forgotten that I'd rather have a dead mate than a disloyal one.

Two pink lines on a pregnancy test. I was going to surprise my husband, Vince, the Moretti family heir. Instead, the surprise was on me. A pair of black lace panties—not mine—left in his car. The air reeked of cheap perfume and betrayal. I stormed his casino, demanding answers. But I found her in his private suite. Sophia. She smirked, looking me up and down. “You must be the wife. I’ve seen your picture on the nightstand. Vince says you’re a boring little nun. Says he can’t even get hard looking at you.” I snapped. My hand shaking, I hurled a glass of red wine in her face. She shrieked, stumbled back, and crashed into a glass cabinet. Blood bloomed across the carpet. Vince burst in and slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "Are you insane?! She's carrying my heir!" My heart shattered. As I fell, a darker pool of blood spread beneath me. Our baby. I was miscarrying. And when forced to choose between his wife and his whore, Vince chose her. He forgot who put him on his throne. I’m not some trophy wife he can discard. I am a DeLuca. A princess of the underworld. So for revenge, I married his worst enemy, Dante Costello. And when we burned his empire to the ground, Vince finally broke. He got on his knees and begged me to come back.