The Silent Sisters Book Novels & Stories

She sneered, circling me like a predator taunting its prey. “The mute mutt acting all noble and important, wearing this expensive dress.” Her manicured fingers flicked at the delicate fabric, wrinkling the silk. “She is doing the same thing her mother did, snatching what doesn’t belong to her: my right to be the king’s woman.” Her words stung like fire, but I couldn’t defend myself. My voice was lost inside me, strangled by the years of silence. I had no power whatsoever to avoid the storm of their hatred.

My chest hollowed out, leaving nothing but the memory of his hands on me, the echo of his voice calling me piccola. I told myself it was fine. That I’d wait. That this was what sisters did—see their brothers off with grace. But deep down, I knew the truth. Sweet sisters don’t burn this way. Two days later, I was in the library when the murmur of voices broke through my concentration. I glanced up from my open book, my eyes narrowing as I caught two maids whispering near the shelves. Their tones were hushed, conspiratorial, and I almost ignored them—until I caught one word.

Through it, I could almost feel her breath, quick and jittering like a bird that doesn’t know which way the sky is. “Sister,” she said again, more quietly. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and saw two little girls in a home that no longer existed, sharing secrets under blankets with a lantern between them. They made vows they were too young to understand and just immediately after, I saw the women we had become. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Why are you here, Evelyn?” There was no reply, only silence that I wondered if she was still there. Then, just before I said another word, “Because you won’t tell them and I need to know why.”

It kept speaking. “He left after arguing. I cried all night. I will raise the second child alone. No one must know.” Olivia put the book down and covered her face. Jessica. Her enemy. Her rival. The woman who hated her. The woman whose soul tried to devour Ethan. The Widow’s chosen host. Her sister. A sister none of them knew existed. Her blood. Her flesh. Her mirror. She whispered it out loud because silence made it worse, “She’s my sister.” The words felt wrong in her mouth. Sharp. Poisonous.

Gia yelled at me with a chuckle. I glared at her as I threw daggers at Karm and Ela. They caught the daggers and launched themselves at my sisters. My sisters pulled out their swords and blocked the attacks while I focused on entering their minds and making them believe they were under attack by multiple spirits, not just two. They fired at nothing, swinging their weapons in the air. While they were distracted, in the confusion, Karm and Ela used the hilts of the daggers to knock them unconscious. My leg stung, and all is fair in a battle. They would hear it from me later.

She replied raising her eyebrows and glaring at him, her voice was soft but there was a threatening tone in it. "Uhhh.. nothing sweetheart. “Arhaan told stuffing his mouth with cornflakes. "Someone is a coward.” Raihana and Raaina my sisters sang in chorus. "Shut up “Arhaan whispered. "Arhaan, don’t you know how to talk with your sister’s.” my mom Raida glared at him, to that both my sisters stuck their tongue out at him. "What, I did nothing.” He stated confused. "Quit fighting everyone, now let's have breakfast, I’m starving.” Arha stood up in the table and announced angrily.

I struggled hard, but I could not break free from Philip. Laila stormed out of the room next door. She froze when she saw us, screamed and rushed over, slapping Philip on the back with all her strength. "Philip! Do you even remember what day it is? How can you hug another woman right in front of me?! Have you thought about how I'd feel?" Philip's arms loosened. His body flew backward and hit the ground hard, landing a few feet away.

Burn the path before it led me to this point. But time did not bend backward. El remained silent inside my mind. Strangely, I understood the silence. El had warned me. More than once. I had ignored every caution, every nudge toward restraint. This quiet felt like consequence, not abandonment. I shifted my gaze to Diana. My little sister stared down at her hands, shoulders slightly hunched, just like Laura who had, during my story, left to sit with her daughter. The realization hit me again that the sister she had admired, defended, and idolized had turned out to be someone capable of working with monsters.

I'll be back. I know. You better be. I will. She set the phone down. The room was quiet. The street below was quiet. She picked up the book. Clara's book. The one she didn't understand. Opened it. Read the first page. The words still blurred. She kept reading.

The ride back to the Vane penthouse was suffocatingly silent. Silas sat on the opposite side of the leather bench in the limousine, his gaze fixed on the passing city lights, his profile as sharp and cold as a jagged diamond. Verina kept her hands folded in her lap, her mind racing with Julian’s words. Clara. Silas had a sister who died, and he blamed the Vances for it. Every time Silas touched her, every time he defended her, was it all just a sick game of cat and mouse before the final slaughter?