روايات وقصص ضمن The Price Of Silence

Every word she didn’t speak tightened the strings she held, though it cost her pieces of herself with every breath. At night, she lay awake, the papers hidden inches from her body, her chest heavy with the weight of unshed words. If she stayed silent too long, she would suffocate. If she spoke, everything would burn. Either way, there was a price. It was late one evening when the price demanded itself. Sierra stood in the library, pretending to skim the spines of books, when she heard voices outside the door. Vanessa’s and Damien’s low, urgent, and laced with venom.

Each book is a world, its spine etched with names I can't pronounce. "The Silence is a patron here," she says, leading me deeper. "It trades stories for secrets. But it's grown... *greedy*." She stops at a tome bound in wolfskin. Inside, pages writhe with living text. "Your story's end is inevitable. But you can *edit* it. Bargain for a new verse." I glance at the Librarians trailing us. "What's the price?" "A memory. The one you cling to hardest."

he asked. "Don't tell anyone, okay?" I told him. "No news, no information. It's better if we don't say anything." He nodded once more and studied it thoroughly. "That will be more expensive. Silence has a price." "Money is never an issue," I said honestly. "You'll have whatever you deserve. Just be sure you do deserve it." He remained silent for a while. The silence was deep and easy to detect, interrupted only by the noise of clinking glasses and mild talk in the distance.

I could feel the fine tremors running through her frame. “He has a recording,” she whispered into my chest. “I know.” I guided her inside, straight to the study. Marcus was already there, his face grim. My mother stood by the fireplace, a silent pillar of grim resolve. “We have until five PM,” I said, releasing Sierra but keeping her close. “Options.” Marcus spoke first. “We pay. It’s cleanest. Five million is nothing. It buys silence.” “It buys his silence today,” Sierra said, her voice stronger now, laced with disgust. “What about tomorrow? Next year? He’ll own us forever. He’ll always come back for more.”

The previous playfulness disappeared from his face as he sat frozen on his soft side, not even moving a bit. His prolonged silence thumped my heart as if it challenged me to correct the mistake I made unintentionally. However, I had no idea what I did wrong. So, taking a safer route, I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. That was when Cassian finally broke his silence. He grabbed my wrist, catching me off guard. “No!” he said, his voice rough. “You can’t ignore me like this.” My heart leapt to my throat as my eyes flew open, only to find shadows of darkness clouding Cassian’s features. He narrowed his dark eyes and said,

He gestures to the drawing of a nursing mother sucking her gateman's shaft while cradling her baby. “And it goes for eighteen thousand dollars. Who amongst you will take this great piece home!?” “Twenty thousand dollars.” A man in the crowd bids. “Thirty thousand…” “Thirty-five thousand…” The bid continues, and by the time Silas raises a hand to stop the bidding, the piece is already priced at sixty thousand dollars. “And this piece goes to…” Silas begins, but suddenly his words are cut short as something pierces through the floor-length window, landing on his chest as shards of glass from the window rain over the floor and even onto the street below, causing people to scream.

A single truth settled in my chest like stone— I was not free. I was bound to the ghost of a man who wielded silence like a weapon. A ghost with a paycheck. Bought not for love, but for illusion. And in this place, where the sea whispered secrets to the cliffs, and the night crept through every window like a warning— Even silence had a price.

"I'm sorry." Rupert burst into laughter, clearly in high spirits. "Good! Now check on your dying parents! The money will be transferred to your account shortly." Hearing this, I immediately got up and ran to the first-floor lobby to pay the fee, only to discover that only 20 dollars was deposited into my account. Just then, a message from Rupert came through. [They just have indigestion, so 20 dollars for some antacids should do the trick. Yet, you're asking for 2000 dollars? Are you trying to pocket the Prescott family's money? I'm not an idiot!]

I don’t even care that I’m being bought, I’ll be good and obedient to him as long as he saves me from Silas. “Twenty five million.” Silas hisses and the room goes silent, the air tense as hell. I can see Rafe Lennox salivating from his seat, he thought I would fetch a million but obviously he also never dreamed the bid would rise to twenty five. “Please.” I plead silently as I stare at the overweight man who looks piss-drunk. In fact, I suspect the only reason he has matched the bid so far is because he is too far drunk for sensible reasoning and I beg whatever powers are listening tonight that he doesn’t get tired. He frowns and my prayers have the opposite effect because he humphs and moti

The house was quiet in a way that felt intentional. Not peaceful. Not calm. Curated. Jordan Elaine stood at the kitchen sink, fingers wrapped around the porcelain edge, staring at her reflection in the darkened window. Outside, the city glowed faintly, and distant headlights, muted sirens, the hum of a world that never slept. Inside, there was only silence. The kind that pressed against her chest until breathing felt like effort. She had learned, over time, not to fill it.