Tom Riddle's Diary Novels & Stories

Liam muttered to himself feeling pity for her. He couldn't deny his father Rowen hadn't been insistent on having an heir, but he was fine without one. He wasn't desperate until that day when he saw Caleb with Rissa; he wished he was the man who completed that family. He was about closing the box dejectedly when his eyes caught something strange. "A dairy! Diane's diary!" he thought as he picked it up and rushed into his study to read through the important details. Liam felt agitated by each chapter unraveled, his hand shivered at the level of terrifying discoveries the diary holds.

Lelandi: “Yeah. I regret that he was the chosen one. The man touched her hair. My own blood and flesh. How did you learn about Ritka’s diaries, exactly? Carol had a vision that Ritka had concealed it in Doc’s office, hidden among paperwork for deceased patients, where no one would suspect it. She must have been afraid Sheridan may turn against her, even though we weren’t sure if she had written anything incriminating. I’m sorry for getting involved in the argument.

"No. We should apologize instead." We held each other and broke down in tears. Leonard was still in a critical stage. Meanwhile, the content of his diary was published on the Internet. The diary recorded every moment we had spent together. I sat on the bench outside the ICU, and my phone kept vibrating. "Liv, have you seen the news? Leonard's diary has gone viral on the Internet!" "Oh my God! You guys had such great memories together!" "He loves you so much…" I tapped on my phone. The topic at the top of the trending list read, "high school memories of Leonard Burton."

Tom’s POV I hid in the closet of our hotel room. The door had a small crack, just wide enough to see the bed. My heart pounded hard in my chest. Nina, my wife, had set this up. She wanted to try something wild on our vacation. Two guys from the bar downstairs. Strangers. Tall one named Mike, with short dark hair and a gym build. The other, Jake, leaner, with tattoos on his arms. They came up with her, laughing and touching her waist as they entered.

**David’s POV** Here in my New York apartment, as the relentless city rain echoes my mood, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the old, worn pages of Scarlet’s diary. This morning, the echoes of last night's indulgence weigh heavy, a migraine pulsing in the background as I numb it with the usual analgesic. But the diary demands attention once again. I flip to the last entry, a letter penned for me, her "Bumblebee," written in a moment of profound solitude and clarity.

Dayholt brought it for him, but forgetting all that Ryan had to pay for this. He wrote a lot of quotes, lyrics and some one liner too, there was one with a gardener, he read it, opening the 52nd page where a small dried lily petal was as a bookmark, “That gardener knew everything, he stayed quite, but how long? How long can he stay silent…” Interrupting his reading, he heard their front door cracking. He knew his friend came back, but it was too quick. He snapped closed the diary, hiding it under the bed when Darius came there carrying a white packet.

My only hope felt extinguished. After silence, he rummaged through a cluttered drawer beside him, the wood creaking under the strain. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out a pen and a faded notepad, its edges worn from years of use. He began to scribble down names, the ink flowing like a river of possibility. "These people," he murmured, glancing up at me with a glint of urgency in his eyes, "they have the knowledge you need." Each name was accompanied by a brief note—a description of their expertise, quirks, and how they might aid me in deciphering the diary's enigmatic script.

🖱️Victor🖱️ The moment Sammy and Jane left the room with Jayden, the room felt different nAnd somehow more dangerous. I reached inside my coat and pulled out the diary. My mother’s diary. The one that only answers when it wants to. The one that showed me fragments of what was coming before I even understood them. My fingers tightened around it before I opened it. The pages that had been blank before now shimmered faintly. Then slowly, like ink bleeding through water, words began to appear.

He smirked despite the tension, kissing me quick and dirty before opening the floor hatch. We crawled through the narrow tunnel, dust and cobwebs everywhere, my body still humming from the fast fuck. The passage opened into a dim cellar stacked with old boxes and filing cabinets. Damien went straight to one, prying it open and pulling out papers and a USB drive. “Look at this,” he said, spreading sheets on a table. “Evidence against Marcus Reed, my rival. He’s the one behind the ghost texts and probably that intruder. Emails showing he paid my old guy to steal notes, plus recordings of him admitting he wants to bury my career over that old deal gone bad.”

"Didn't I tell you that you're the only woman he loves deeply? One more reason I came here. I want to give this to you." She got stunned when the old woman suddenly handed her a familiar notebook that she was starting to recognize. To her surprise, it was the diary she owned way back in her high school days. The diary where she chronicled all her feelings to Thyago way back in her teenage days, the diary where it all began...