Novels by Trisha

Emma WatsonThe late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of the Manhattan penthouse, casting golden beams across the sleek marble floors. The scent of fresh lilies drifted through the open space, mingling with the faint aroma of roasted coffee from the kitchen. For the first time in months, the silence didn’t feel heavy or dangerous. It felt... peaceful.I stood barefoot by the glass wall, gazing out at the city I once hated for everything it took from me. Now, somehow, it had given me everything too.Behind me, Ray’s footsteps echoed softly across the wood. I didn’t turn. I didn’t have to. I knew his presence by heart now—the rhythm of his breathing, the tension in his muscles when he was deep in thought, the way his energy wrapped around mine like a second skin.He came to stand beside me, his hand finding mine. Warm. Solid. Real.“This view used to make me feel invincible,” he said quietly.I looked up at him, his profile bathed in the soft light. “And now?”He glanced do

Ray The night air bit against my skin as I stood on the rooftop of the Kingstone building, the skyline of Manhattan stretching before me in all its glittering, indifferent glory. The city didn’t know what it had cost me to get here—or maybe it didn’t care. Either way, the end was coming. And I was ready. Behind me, the wind whipped at my coat, and the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the stairwell. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. “Are you sure about this?” Lucas’s voice was low, hoarse from the healing wound in his side. I glanced back at him. “It ends tonight. One way or another.” He nodded grimly and joined me at the edge. “We have snipers stationed on the west building, just like you planned. Emma’s team is holding the perimeter.” My throat tightened at her name. We’d said our goodbyes earlier, just in case. She’d kissed me like it might be the last time. Maybe it would be. “They’ll be here,” I said. “Benitez doesn’t miss a chance to gloat.” Luc

Emma I used to think love was the end goal. Like if I could just find the right person, all the broken parts would fall into place and I’d finally feel whole. But love wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. Because when Ray and I stopped running from who we were—and started building toward who we wanted to become—something bigger took root. Something wilder. Braver. Truer. Not a happy ending. A brave one. And that made all the difference. We spent the first few weeks after the wedding wrapped in a kind of quiet bliss. The world slowed down. Emails went unanswered. The Fellowship ran without us for a little while. Priya handled most of the chaos, sending short updates with emojis and bullet points. I skimmed them between morning walks and late-night dips in the ocean. Ray was softer, more still. I could see it in the way he looked at me—like the war inside him had finally gone quiet. I’d never felt more like myself. And in that stillness, something surpri

Ray When I was a kid, I thought power meant control. Silence in a boardroom. Eyes following your every move. A last name that carried weight, made people sit straighter. Turns out, none of that matters when you’re standing in a village where no one knows who you are—just that you show up when you say you will. That’s real power. Not dominance. But trust. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t chasing power to bury my father's shadow. I was chasing purpose—with Emma beside me. We moved slower now, not because we had to, but because we could. Mornings began with thick coffee and open laptops, balancing spreadsheets with outreach emails. The fellowship was growing faster than we planned. Our quiet office above the bookstore had tripled in size, and we were already looking for a new space. We weren’t just funding journalism. We were creating platforms. Safety nets. A family of storytellers, rebels, and truth-seekers. People I would’ve never noticed if I’d stay

The Shape of Forever Emma The breeze was warm, laced with the scent of frangipani and sea salt as I stepped out onto the balcony. Below, the ocean stretched into a horizon so clear and infinite, it felt like time itself paused to breathe. Bali wasn’t what I expected. It was better. No crowds. No headlines. No past. Just us—and the rhythm of waves that didn’t care about who we used to be. Ray was in the kitchen, humming something soft as he sliced fruit. Shirtless, barefoot, sun-kissed. If I didn’t already love him, I would’ve fallen for him right then and there. But I’d already fallen—completely, recklessly, irrevocably. And here, in this quiet corner of the world, it finally felt safe to land. We spent our mornings wrapped in each other, too lazy to set alarms. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we didn’t need to. His fingertips would trace patterns on my skin while the sun climbed higher, and I’d close my eyes, memorizing the silence between our heartbeats. In the af

Ray The wind cut through my coat as I stepped out of the cabin one last time, the cold air snapping me to attention. Snow crunched beneath my boots, and far below, the world stretched out in a sea of silver and blue—mountains frozen in time, quiet valleys that didn’t care about headlines, betrayals, or billion-dollar collapses. Up here, the world couldn’t touch us. But it also couldn’t stay frozen forever. Behind me, Emma zipped up her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the chill, her hair tied back in a loose braid. She looked at me like she always did—like I wasn’t the broken son of a corrupt empire, but something more. Something worth saving. And maybe—for the first time in my life—I believed her. The train we caught into Lucerne was empty except for an older couple reading a newspaper and a teenage boy scrolling on a cracked phone. Emma sat beside me, her head leaning on my shoulder, one hand looped around my arm. I watched the