Silence Natasha Preston Novels & Stories

Unused to such friendliness, I fumbled awkwardly, pulling out my notepad to scribble my response. The room filled with stifled laughter. "She can't talk! She's mute!" someone blurted out. For a brief moment, Harvey looked stunned, even a little regretful. He scratched his head sheepishly, unsure of what to say. A girl sitting in front of us turned around and added loudly, "Not just mute—she's a wicked mute. You sure you want to sit with her?" I nervously twisted the paper with my name in my hand. Harvey shot her a sharp glare before sitting down beside me. He grabbed the note from my hand, read it, and greeted me with, "Nice to meet you, Raelynn."

Natasha continued, “is what we need in this company, and that’s clearly what Angela lacks. So I beckon you all to think deeply before casting your votes.” The murmuring and silent whispers continued. Their not-so-loud voices banged in my head, almost causing a headache. I stood from my seat, walked towards Natasha, and stood right behind a seat that should be rightfully mine. “It is said that nobody is talking when everyone is talking.” The murmuring continued. “Silence!”

Hearing him say those words, her cheeks flutter red for reasons she couldn't comprehend as she playfully pinch him. Natash arrived at the office the next day wearing a red halter neck top and a black slit skirt, they were tight on her body and presented her cleavage in the right way. Natash is wearing a gold wrist watch and a gold necklace, today she applied a very light makeup that could barely be seen. Walking into the conference Hall, her four most trusted men were waiting for her. Robert who she met first and the hands behind the computer, Derrick the brain of the company, she had met Derrick when she still had nothing, he was robbed and beaten and was at the point of death when Natash f

Alexander stands beside her with his jaw set and his hand gripping her shoulder in a pose that screams solidarity and heartbreak. Behind them are the rest of the family. Camilia’s lips pursed in feigned sorrow, my father eyes cold and unreadable, and Gregory Westfield radiating smug satisfaction. I hit play. “I…” Natasha’s voice quivers, every syllable calculated for maximum effect. “I know what everyone must think of me,” she begins, dabbing delicately at her eyes. “That I’m the villain in this story. The other woman. The home-wrecker.” She pauses, letting her words hang in the air while soaking up the attention.

I tell myself that means I’m doing the right thing. If being quiet makes Daddy happy, then I can be quiet forever. I stop telling him when I have bad dreams, I stopped telling him when I miss him and also when my chest hurts. Because strong girls don’t need to be told they matter. They already know…Don’t they? **** The tension finally snapped the following Tuesday afternoon. Ethan was away settling a border dispute, leaving the pack house under Natasha’s careful, smiling supervision. She spent the morning walking its halls, her gaze sharpening at every reminder of the woman who had lived, and been loved, there before her.

I looked out the window, my reflection staring back at me, unrecognizable. If it had to end that way, then so be it. ___________________________________ Sylvester’s POV. After the door slammed behind Carol, the silence that followed was strange. It wasn’t peaceful or calm; it was heavy. Natasha sat on the couch, her hands resting on her lap. Her eyes were distant, and she looked like she was struggling to stay composed. I sat beside her, but I didn’t know how to reach her. The words I wanted to say were all stuck somewhere between guilt and fear.

She stared at me for a moment, torn, then finally nodded. “Okay… just… no one can know.” “No one will. You can trust us.” I gestured at the others in the room. Alessa gave a small nod of agreement, still rubbing Natasha’s back, who hadn’t stopped trembling. Amber left with Stanley. The door shut behind her like a seal closing over everything she just said. The silence after was heavier than before. Natasha sat frozen, her face streaked with tears, staring at nothing. Alessa stood still, staring at the board like it had just shifted its shape.

If they wouldn't listen to her words, she’d have to give them something they couldn't ignore. After thinking it over, Natasha decided she had to make her move. She started by cutting all the landline connections she could find, making sure the house was isolated. Then, she went into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast, standing under the cool water, shivering and yet not giving up on whatever idea was brewing in her mind.

His voice sounded hoarse. "Oh, it's not like that. She doesn't want to be called Miss Natasha. I just do what she wants," Jonas replied. "Why?" "W-why?" Christian was also embarrassed. "Nothing. I don't care whom you call her." Meanwhile, Natasha immediately entered the warehouse after serving Jonas's ordered coffee. Her breathing seems erratic. She held her chest because she felt something strange. "Why am I so nervous? How strange," muttered Natasha. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. Several times she rubbed her chest. Moments later, her tears suddenly dropped down.

he asked me, angrily. Natasha left us and went out. A few seconds later she came with a glass of wine and poured it on my dress. “Shut up, you fool,” she said. I knew that was just a means to stop the argument and stop me from exposing all of Silas's evil deeds. I moved around and immediately grabbed a glass of wine, made sure it was red wine, and poured it on Natasha. I knew it would stain her dress because she was putting on a white dress.