Novel & Cerita The Quiet Ones Book

I’d been through seven foster homes. Before each one sent me away, they stopped answering my questions, stopped looking at me, and let the house grow silent. I couldn’t stand that kind of silence. So I became someone who talked too much. When my biological mother finally brought me into the powerful Moretti family at seventeen, I tried even harder to make people like me. Within one day, I knew the guards’ birthdays, the school nurse’s favorite podcast, and where my classmates kept their emergency medication. My stepsister Bianca called it manipulation. My stepbrother Luca called it an addiction to attention. To cure me, he ordered my entire school and family not to speak to me for seventy-tw

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

Later, in bed, I lay facing him in the dark and traced the familiar line of the scar along his jaw. “I keep waiting for the quiet to feel like the old kind of quiet,” I said. “The kind that meant something was coming. It doesn’t. Not the same way.” Kael’s hand moved slowly along my spine. “That’s because the quiet used to sit on top of nothing solid. Now it sits on top of everything you’ve already put in the ground.”

Then she began. She read a passage from the first chapter—about the quiet kind of pain that teaches you how to disappear: “There are wounds so silent they make noise only you can hear. You smile in rooms that feel too loud, nod through conversations where your name feels foreign. You start to shrink without realizing it, folding yourself into corners like paper left out in the rain. And one day, you look in the mirror and wonder when you became so quiet, so good at not being seen.” Then a passage from the middle—about learning how to stay:

And so, my heart beat on, slowly and faintly. - One day, an unwelcome guest came to our little sanctuary. Roanna knelt beside my legs, sobbing and pleading, "Miss Palmer, please… Please tell Scott to talk to me again! I really love him, and I can't live without him!" Mary burst out from the kitchen, waving a kitchen knife. "You shameless b*tch! How dare you show your face?" Roanna raised her chin in defiance, shouted, "Kill me then! I can't live without Scott, so kill me!"

Eventually, they fell silent. Celeste sensed a sharp gaze occasionally landing on her amid the silence. She turned to meet Terence's eyes in the rearview mirror. He looked at her oddly. Then, he looked away. Guests milled about at the venue. Terence entered the hall with Winona on his arm. He deliberately left Celeste behind as he carefully shielded Winona. He introduced her to everyone he knew and pulled out her seat for her, leaning close to her as he explained the rules of the match to her.

For now though I press a kiss to her knuckles and pull her back toward the path that leads home. There will be time for answers. Today was for quiet. And quiet I have learned is not the absence of danger. It is the space where truths begin to surface. Chapter 140 — Quiet Things That Endure Damon's POV Peace is a strange thing. It never announces itself. It does not arrive with ceremony or promise permanence. It slips in sideways between duties between breaths almost daring you to notice it before it vanishes again. Today I notice. I wake to it.Mara still slept beside me with her breathing regular, one hand curled near her face. The morning light creeps through the curtains. Soft. Warm.

Each story throbbed with distance, with other people’s victories. Promise drew water in silence, balancing the bucket against her hip. As she walked back, children followed, chanting, “Model! Model!” Not with cruelty this time, but with delight. She smiled faintly, though her chest tightened. Inside their room, she lit the small torch and opened her notebook. She wrote: Silence can crush. Silence can protect. Silence can also wait. I must learn which silence to carry. Night stretched long. Promise lay on the mattress, listening to Daniel breathe steadily. The storm’s echoes still lingered in the ceiling’s creaks. She closed her eyes, and memory blurred into dream.

It was maybe a tad boring compared to my old life, but deep down, I knew that was exactly what I had been longing for. A fresh start, far from the fear and tension of my past. However, that peace was shattered on a sunny, serene afternoon. That day, just like any other, I was in the shop, arranging flowers. A sudden chill cast a shadow over me, and a voice I knew all too well whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Eleanor..." I snapped my head up, and the sight of Roman's face sent me spiraling into terror. My heart clenched as if caught in a vice, my breath coming in short gasps. Memories I had buried, the deepest and darkest kind, clawed their way to the surface.

Chapter 162 – Laura’s POV The house was quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet. Not the calm silence I had tried to cling to before, not the reassuring hush of a home where Enzo slept peacefully. No, this quiet was deliberate. It felt alive, like it was watching me, waiting for me to take a move. Every shadow seemed just a little too deep, every creak a little too purposeful.