Nobela ni Ebima2707

DARIAN I woke up to the sound of birds and static.The bed beside me was empty, and still warm. Her scent lingered on the sheets, vanilla and citrus, soft and sharp all at once. My arm reached out instinctively, but I touched nothing but air.Then the television buzzed to life. I had forgotten I’d set the news to autoplay.I didn’t expect to hear my brother’s name.“Breaking news out of Mexico this morning. Billionaire Roman Wolfe presumed dead after a yacht explosion. The luxury vessel, The Sovereign, went up in flames just hours ago…”The remote slipped from my hand.I sat up, the blanket tangled around my waist, my eyes locked on the screen. Flames roared behind the news anchor’s calm voice. Pieces of scorched gold and wood drifted in the ocean. Divers searched for remains and it didn’t feel real.Roman. Dead.The man who always played it safe, who always planned ahead. Who once told me, “Only fools die in luxury.”I blinked hard, hoping the picture would change. That maybe I was

ZARIA I used to think that falling in love with Roman Wolfe was the safest thing that could ever happen to me. Not because I loved him, but because being attached to a name like his meant I would never be touched. No one would dare and for a long time, that was enough.Roman was everything the world respected. Calm and powerful. The heir to a legacy that could make or break empires. And me? I was the daughter of a hero and a disgrace. My mother had died for justice. My father had traded me for a debt. But somehow, that didn’t matter when I was on Roman’s arm. His name silenced the whispers and his presence turned threats into silence.We played the part well. The perfect couple with shared smiles, elegant hand touches in public and matching designer outfits. People adored us. He wasn’t cruel, he never was to me. In private, he was gentle in a distant way. We weren’t lovers, but we were allies and there was a strange comfort in that. A scheduled wedding two weeks away, headlines rea

ZARIAThe lady of the house ran into the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floors as she yelled for the guards. “She’s gone! Zaria escaped!”Chaos burst through the compound like a firecracker. Doors slammed, voices rose, and boots pounded on the ground. Every man under the Don’s command jumped into motion, and it was only a matter of seconds before they spread across the property like hounds on a scent.The Don appeared, draped in his usual silk robe, his face calm but eyes like ice. He moved to the lady and said in a tone that demanded no excuses, “The white girl. She ran?”She nodded, straightening her shoulders. “She’s a stubborn one,” she replied. “But don’t worry, we’ll get her back. She’s too valuable to lose. A key player and a payment.”From a distance, she looked like a traitor. Cold and selfish, someone who had only offered Zaria a false sense of hope and maybe that was true. But only Zaria knew the truth.I ran like the devil himself was chasing me. Th

ZARIAI woke up to the sharp sting in my arm and a pounding headache that made it hard to breathe. My limbs were heavy, and my mouth tasted like metal. It took me a moment to realize I couldn’t see. Panic spiked in my chest as I reached up, only to feel a thick cloth tied tightly around my eyes. I was blindfolded. My breath hitched, and I froze.Voices echoed somewhere close, muffled by distance but still clear enough to pick up."She’s awake?"A deep male voice said, it was smooth but laced with cruelty."Not yet fully. The drug should wear off any minute now," A woman replied, she sounded calm and uninterested.I tried to sit up, but my arms were tied. A whimper escaped me before I could stop it and the voices grew louder."Her father's a bastard, you know that? Selling his own daughter like a piece of meat," the man said with a laugh."Arturo Mendez always did have a price. We just happened to pay it."My breath caught in my throat. Did I hear that right? My father? My father sold

ZARIAI hated the smell of tear gas, it crawled up my throat, settled on my tongue, and mixed with sweat, smoke, and screams. That day, it was everywhere, clinging to the protest like a parasite.The sun blazed overhead as I stood beside my mother. Her voice was loud and clear into the microphone. The crowd pulsed with energy, banners flew, chants rose, and fists punched the air. But it was her... my mom, who commanded it all…Isela Mendez, a warrior in a sunflower-yellow blouse, a political icon, a revolution in heels.“Let them hear us!” she shouted. “Let them know we won't be silenced!”And the people cheered, a thousand voices echoing her fire."Mira a tu madre," a woman beside me said with awe. "She’s a legend.""I know," I whispered, beaming. I weaved through the crowd, handing out flyers, heart pounding with pride and adrenaline. My mother was unstoppable, and I wanted to be like her.“Zaria!” she called out, waving when she caught sight of me. “Stay close.”“I will!” I called b