Novels by moshoodrafiat1

Since the aftermath of their heated make out, Irene had been mentally scolding herself on loop.What were you thinking, Irene?No pretending, he’d said.She scoffed. No pretending, my foot. He was just using her to satisfy his desires, she should have known better. A man like Ryan Carrington didn’t just want someone like her — not without a catch.That evening, dinner was unusually quiet. It was just the two of them because Chairman William had travelled for a board retreat and Jenny was out at a charity event. Normally, Irene might have felt awkward being alone with Ryan at the large dining table, but today, she was resolute: Ignore him. Eat your food. Leave.Ryan, however, didn’t share her resolve.“Pass me the salt, please,” he said, his voice low.She picked up the salt and slid it across the table to him without looking up.She stabbed a piece of asparagus with her fork so violently it nearly flew off her plate. He tried again later, clearing his throat. “What do you think of th

Later that day, Irene’s phone buzzed with an email notification. She clicked it open, her heart pounding. Inside were the passcodes to a storage box containing Giselle’s apartment keys and her bank account details.Her chest tightened. Finally…Without hesitation, she texted Venus quickly.Meet me at this address tomorrow. I’ll send the address. Be careful.Immediately, she deleted the message, her fingers trembling as if Stefan could somehow watch her every move.A gentle knock on her door broke her from her thoughts. The family doctor stepped in, his kind eyes scanning her bandaged hands.“Let’s have a look at your wounds.”He worked in silence, replacing the thick dressings with lighter band-aids and handing her a small tube of ointment. “Apply this every morning and night. You’re healing well.”“Thank you,” she said softly, staring at her fingers, flexing them slightly.When he left, Irene realised how quiet the estate felt. Ryan was still not back. She looked at her phone again,

They arrived back at the Carrington estate under a dark velvet sky, the city lights long faded behind them. The air was colder here — not from the weather, but from the weight of everything waiting for them. The life they’d left behind in France was already starting to feel like a dream.Chairman William and Jenny were waiting in the grand foyer, the kind of reception that should’ve felt warm. It didn’t.“I’m so sorry for what you went through,” the chairman said, reaching gently for Irene’s hand. His tone was sincere, his eyes troubled as they lingered on the fresh bandages around her fingers. “We should’ve known something was off about that man.”“Thank you,” she said quietly.Jenny stepped forward next, her voice coated in sweet concern that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You must be so shaken. How awful, really.”Irene gave a tight smile. “It was… intense.”She didn’t bother pretending too hard. Jenny wasn’t the type to genuinely care. And Stefan and Astrid, interestingly enough, w

The sun hung low over the French Riviera, spilling honey-gold light across the rooftops and cobbled streets. A soft breeze carried the scent of sea and lavender. Everything felt still. Beautiful. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Irene let herself breathe.They’d been walking for nearly an hour — though time felt suspended here. No words passed between them, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. The city moved around them in soft, lazy rhythms: cafés setting out morning chairs, the soft hum of a violin from a nearby square, couples strolling hand-in-hand along colorful alleyways.Irene walked beside Ryan, her fingers brushing the fabric of her dress, just inches from his hand. She wanted to reach for him. God, she wanted to. But the fear of him pulling away was stronger than the desire.He hadn’t touched her.But he hadn’t kept his distance either.It was a truce, of sorts — spoken only in the way his eyes met hers and lingered a moment longer than necessary.At a corner café, he g

Back at the hotel suite…Irene stood still, taking in the familiar space with a new kind of heaviness. The suite was warm, softly lit, and quiet — but none of it calmed the storm still churning inside her. Her body ached. Her bandaged hands throbbed with every movement.“You should take a warm shower,” Ryan said, his voice low, steady. “It’ll help.”She didn’t respond right away.When he turned to look at her, his expression had softened. “Giselle,” he said gently, “Go. You’ll feel better.”She gave a silent nod and walked toward the bathroom.The moment the door shut behind her, she pressed her back to it and closed her eyes. Her legs were trembling. Everything felt too much and not enough.She opened her eyes and caught her reflection in the mirror.Smeared makeup. Tangled hair. Her ruined dress that once felt elegant is now nothing but a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.She pulled off Ryan’s coat, setting it aside carefully. Then she reached for the zipper of her dress,

“Sam, slow down,” Ryan said, stepping into the quiet of a side corridor as his phone buzzed again. “I’m in the middle of something.”Sam’s voice came through, tight with urgency. “You’re going to want to hear this. The investigator finally got back. He found something big on Luc Fournier. Really big.”Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go on.”“There’s no clean record. Marc Fournier didn’t just die in an accident. The autopsy was forged, the bruising on the back of his head suggests blunt trauma. He’d apparently uncovered a bunch of discrepancies in the hotel’s offshore ledgers, something about secret investors funneling money. He confronted Luc two days before his accident.”Ryan went still.“Luc killed him?” he asked quietly.“That’s not all,” Sam said. “Marc’s wife — they said she drowned in a boating accident six months later. She didn’t. She survived. Changed her identity. The PI tracked her to a rehab center in Lyon.”“Shit…”“She told the investigator Luc tried to kill her a