The Secrets She Carried Novels & Stories

Her hand held the doorknob and without letting another question stop her, she stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. It was a race to her study. Click. She turned the key in the lock and heaved a sigh of relief, her heart thundering in her chest from how pressurizing this felt. She hated keeping secrets from Eli and right now, she realized that she was always keeping secrets from him. It was a tough place to be caught in, but she had no choice. Then she moved to the sofa and flipped through the Black book, writing out a list of places she was convinced would have some worthwhile information for her.

My feelings for this woman right here, will never change. "You look so beautiful and radiant" I compliment, causing her to blush. "Thank you" "Are you back for good?" I question, hoping she's not going to leave again. "Yes, I am" I kiss her again, deeper this time, relishing in the oh-so-familiar taste of my wife's mouth. It feel like fucking ages since I kissed her, and I can't wait to make love to her, and when I start, I won't stop. "No hidden secrets?" She asks, referring to our lives five years ago "No hidden secrets" THE END.

I said nothing, because I had no idea what to do with that information, only that it settled somewhere deep and uneasy in my chest. By the time we'd checked three more rooms with no luck, her steps had slowed considerably, her small feet dragging against the tile. "Can you carry me?" she asked, lifting her arms up toward me with the same total lack of hesitation she'd shown from the very first moment. "I'm tired." I picked her up before I'd consciously agreed to it, settling her against my hip like I'd done this a thousand times before, though I never once had. She looped one arm around my neck and rested her head against my shoulder with a contented little sigh, entirely unguarded, entirely

Her fingers trembled as she accepted the sealed documents from Em, her name scribbled in bold letters across the front. Em's hesitant expression sparked curiosity, but Luna's focus remained on the papers. "What's this?" she asked, eyeing the package in her hands. The secretary's eyes darted around the living room for a brief moment before settling on Luna. "I had to deliver it by Mr. George's instructions. It seemed urgent and very important," she shuddered, remembering the way he gazed at her unnervingly.

None of it mattered compared to the weight settling quietly inside her. She tucked everything neatly into her bag. Lucky, she thought absently, that she’d brought the big one today. The bag swallowed the boxes whole—no rattling, no telltale shapes. Just paper receipts folded and hidden, evidence erased as much as possible. Outside, she paused again on the sidewalk. Traffic rushed past. People crossed streets, laughed into phones, argued, lived. She pressed her hand unconsciously to her stomach—flat, unchanged, holding a secret no one else could see.

“I’m going to have to pay her more, aren’t I?” “Or fire her.” “Firing her means someone else finds out. That woman has served three generations of Kesingtons. She knows secrets that could sink empires.” I lifted a brow. “So now I’m a state secret?” He rolled toward me, his hand sliding to my waist. “Something like that.” My smile dropped. I sat up, letting the blanket fall away from my chest. “That’s not funny.” Callum blinked. “What?” “You calling me a secret. ‘Something like that.’ Like I’m a scandal you’re trying to cover up.”

But the thug was nice to her, and he had a glib tongue. Six years later, one of the thug's rivals killed him. That left her with no way out, so she dumped her kid and came back alone to seek Gilbert's protection. However, before Joan could tell Gilbert about the truth she found, she was served with the papers, and she would leave with nothing. No matter how much of a ruckus she made, Gilbert and Diana never met with her again. That pushed her over the edge. In her despair and madness, she came to my anniversary and set everything on fire.

I don't exactly know if I want there to be or not. The elevator reaches the twelfth floor, and I step off, unzipping my large handbag as I follow the signs to get to the correct room. I reach the door and take a deep breath before knocking. Then, before I can talk myself out of it or second guess, I reach for the bow at my waist and hurry to untie it. The dress falls open, and convincing myself there's no one watching, and that if there is, that they're damn lucky to be getting a good show, I pull the sleeve down my one arm, then the other, and just as I hear thedoorknob begin to turn, I stuff the dress into my handbag and toss it to the floor a few feet away.

Aurora Wildheart stood in her third-floor guest room, her silver-blue eyes tracing the intricate patterns of the four-poster bed’s canopy, her thoughts a tempest of the missing women, and Vincent’s cryptic message: The shadows are restless. Stay safe. Her forbidden bond with the vampire liaison was a quiet anchor, yet the mystery of her past—lost before The Emerald Forest Pack took her in at seven—pressed heavier, whispering of secrets that could unravel her world.

She opened her purse with a deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving mine, her movements precise, calculated. She reached inside, pulling out a stack of photographs, her fingers delicate, careful, as if she were handling something precious. And then, without warning, she threw them at me. The pictures hit me, scattering all around me, fluttering to the floor like fallen leaves. I looked down, my breath catching in my throat, my eyes widening in horror as I saw the images. My past. My victims. Men whose lives I had ruined, whose wealth I had drained before disappearing without a trace. Men who had fallen for my charm, my lies, my deceit.