Novels by Diva.dazzel

ELOISE ​"If someone had told me six months ago that we’d be living in a five-bedroom, two-living-room mansion with a state-of-the-art kitchen and actual grounds staff, I would have had them committed," Tasha said, smoothing down the skirt of her deep emerald silk dress in front of my floor-to-ceiling vanity mirror. ​"I know, right?" I laughed, fastening a delicate gold chain around my neck. The grand Lincoln Park estate still felt entirely surreal. Moving in had been a whirlwind, but taking Tasha and Derek along for the ride was the best decision I’d ever made. Having the three of us under one ridiculously opulent roof turned a house that felt like a phantom shadow of my late father into an actual home. ​Tasha twirled around, looking at her reflection with a wide grin. "Honestly, El? We really need to enjoy this man’s money. And I am so sorry to say this, but... I am kind of glad your father died." ​I whipped around, my jaw dropping in dramatic outrage. "Tasha! You cannot say that

ELOISE ​My first morning as a hospital nursing assistant was less of a smooth career transition and more of a trial by fire. ​By noon, my feet were throbbing inside my new sneakers, my dark scrubs smelled faint of industrial floor disinfectant, and I felt utterly out of my depth. Balancing patient charts, measuring blood pressure, and wheeling heavy IV stands down slick hospital corridors required a level of physical coordination I definitely hadn't used in a recording studio. ​Every time I felt like I was about to spiral, Derek would breeze past like a seasoned pro. ​He was in his element. Dressed in navy scrubs with a stethoscope slung loosely over his shoulders, he moved through the ward with a calm, effortless grace. Patients instantly softened the moment he stepped into their rooms; he knew their names, their families, and exactly how to make them laugh while checking their vitals. Watching him navigate the high-stress ward was like watching a master conductor handle an o

ELOISE ​The autumn wind carried a sharp, bitter chill across the manicured lawns of the Chicago cemetery. ​I stood under the shadow of the tall pine trees, dressed in a simple black wool coat with dark oversized sunglasses covering my eyes. Beside me, Mike stood tall and steady, dressed in a tailored black suit, his hand lightly resting on my forearm to keep me grounded. Tasha had wanted to come for moral support, but an emergency executive review at Vanguard had kept her chained to her desk. ​As the funeral service began, I stared at the polished mahogany casket resting above the dark soil. A small crowd of high-society mourners sat on the folding chairs arranged under the black canopy—most notably, a dignified woman in a black lace veil flanked by two teenage children, a boy and a girl, both weeping softly into their handkerchiefs. ​My father's other family. My step-siblings. ​I swallowed the lump in my throat as the minister spoke of Jonathan Vance's legacy, his achieveme

MIKE ​I was heading down the 40th-floor hallway toward the elevators, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder, when a flash of ginger-red caught my eye. ​There was only one person I knew with hair that vivid, that striking shade of auburn that practically caught the light. Vance. ​As she stumbled blindly toward the elevator bank, wiping her face, the realization hit me all at once. It really was her. ​"Eloise?" I called out, taking quick, long strides toward her. ​She slammed right into my chest, a sudden gasp tearing from her throat. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I—" She was trembling violently, her chest heaving as she wiped at the tears blurring her eyes. ​When she finally looked up and saw my face, she froze. "Mike?" ​"Hey, hey... breathe," I said softly, gently catching her by the shoulders to steady her. She was having a full-blown panic attack, her eyes wide and disoriented. "Come on, let's get out of the hallway." ​I guided her into an empty private conferen

TASHA ​I kicked off my heels the second I crossed the threshold into our apartment, letting out a loud, frustrated groan that echoed off the high ceiling. ​"If anyone needs me, I'll be jumping off the balcony!" I called out, tossing my leather tote bag onto the entryway bench and collapsing face-first into the living room couch cushions. ​Eloise walked out of the kitchen, holding a mug of tea, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. "Whoa. What happened to you? I thought you were excited for work today." ​I flipped over onto my back, staring up at the light fixtures. "Work was a literal nightmare, El. Remember Julian? The guy from unit 402? The one I thought was an actual sex god?" ​"Yeah... the photographer with the steak?" Eloise asked, leaning against the back of the couch. ​"Well, turns out he is not just a photographer," I groaned, throwing my arm over my eyes. "He is the Senior Executive Director of Vanguard. My literal, actual boss." ​Eloise’s jaw dropped. "Wait..

TASHA​I stepped out of the high-rise elevator onto the executive floor of Vanguard Creative & Financial Solutions with a spring in my step that not even a Monday morning could ruin.​In my right hand, I carried two dark green cups from the artisanal espresso bar down the street. One for me, and one for Julian—a double-shot dark roast with oat milk, exactly how he’d ordered it during our late-night conversation at The Velvet Lounge.​After the warmth of our dinner date and the lingering press of his lips against my cheek on Friday night, my mind had been buzzing all weekend. Underneath his razor-sharp executive exterior, Julian Craig was attentive, funny, and fiercely protective of his daughter. For the first time in years, I was actually letting myself look forward to showing up at an office.​I adjusted my cream blazer, took a breath, and pushed open the frosted glass door to his corner suite.​"Good morning, Boss Man," I said, a playful smirk touching my lips as I set the warm cup

​To every single reader who walked down this long, chaotic, beautiful road with Kelsey—thank you from the absolute bottom of my heart.​When I first sat down to write Nineteen and Unravelling, I knew it wasn't just going to be a lighthearted story about fashion designs, university rivalries, high-society events, or a brooding, fiercely loyal boy with dark blue eyes and a smirk. It was always meant to be a story about becoming. It was about watching someone break down to her absolute bare foundation and realizing she had the strength to build herself back up into something stronger, wiser, and endlessly bright.​Across nearly 90,000 words, we watched Kelsey tumble through a year that looked nothing like the neat, perfect blueprint she had drawn up in her mind. She laughed loud, made terrible mistakes, fought with people she loved, suffered an impossible, heart-shattering loss, and ultimately learned how to rise from the ashes. She showed us that healing isn't a straight line—it’s mes

​The velvet birthday tiara sat slightly crooked on top of my head, its pink plastic gems catching the warm glow of the vanity mirror bulbs. ​I looked down at myself and couldn't help but let out a soft, breathless laugh. ​I was wearing a puffed-sleeve, pastel pink dress—complete with layers of frilly tulle, a massive satin bow tied at the back, and a boa of pink feathers draped over my shoulders. It looked like something pulled straight out of a six-year-old’s dress-up trunk. It was ridiculous, childish, and completely over-the-top. ​And it was my favorite tradition in the entire world. ​Every single year since I turned five, my mum and dad made me wear a ridiculous fairy-princess dress on the morning of my birthday before the real party started. I tapped the glass of the framed photograph resting on my dressing table. ​It was a photo from my nineteenth birthday—my mum and me, both laughing hysterically while wearing matching plastic crowns in our kitchen, her arms wrapped tight

​The transformation felt like stepping out of a long, dark tunnel directly into blinding light. ​For the first time in nearly three weeks, I took a long, scalding shower, washing away the cold numb haze that had weighed down my skin. Chris and Bianca transformed Loft 4B into a full-scale beauty studio. Chris handled my hair, styling it into soft, glossy, effortless waves that cascaded over my shoulders, while Bianca applied a light, glowing makeup look—a touch of warm blush, feathered brows, and a soft rose gloss that brought the color right back into my face. ​My outfit was a piece I had designed during my first month at university—a floor-length, deep midnight-blue velvet dress. It hugged my waist perfectly before spilling into a sleek silhouette, featuring a subtle off-the-shoulder neckline that exposed my collarbones. I slid into a pair of delicate silver heels, hooked silver drop earrings to my ears, and looked into the full-length mirror. ​The girl staring back wasn't the br

​Sixteen days had passed since the funeral. ​Sixteen long, gray days where time felt like it was stuck in a slow, suffocating loop. ​I hadn't set foot inside a lecture hall since returning to campus. The world outside Loft 4B was moving at full speed, but I was frozen inside it. Most days were spent wearing Dom’s oversized, faded gray hoodie—which drowned my frame and smelled faintly of cedarwood—paired with baggy sweatpants I hadn't changed out of in three days. My hair was thrown into a messy, neglected knot on top of my head, skin dull, unwashed, and running on a steady, pathetic diet of cheddar chips and cold water. ​Dom had been forced to travel out of state a week ago to finalize the massive gallery layout, lighting, and press passes for his upcoming debut art showcase. Even with a insane schedule, he called me every single morning and night, his quiet, steady voice grounding me through the phone speaker. Chris and Bianca were doing their absolute best, leaving fresh meals i

​The front porch of my childhood home felt heavier than it ever had before. ​My dad stood by the open passenger door of my car, his face pale and lined with fatigue, but his eyes held a gentle, deeply rooted warmth. He pulled me into a long, tight hug, burying his chin into the top of my head just like he used to when I was a little girl. ​"She’d be so proud of you, sweetheart," my dad whispered, his voice thick as he squeezed my shoulders. "Don't stop living, Kelsey. Go back, finish what you started, and build the life she always wished for you." ​"I will, Dad," I murmured against his coat. "Call me every day. Promise me." ​"Every single day," he promised softly. ​The three-hour drive back to campus passed in a blur of gray highway and quiet music. By the time I pulled my car into the parking lot outside Loft 4B, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, dusty violet shadows across the bricks. ​When I unlocked the front door, I expected the usual chaos—loud music, c

​The world hadn't stopped turning, but inside my chest, everything had gone entirely still. ​In the three days leading up to the funeral, I hadn't shed a single tear. Not when we chose the flowers. Not when my dad and I sat in the silent, suffocating living room staring at her favorite coffee mug still sitting on the side table. Not even when I picked out the navy dress she had bought for me last spring. ​The violent, shattering breakdown from the hospital room had burned out, leaving behind a cold, hollow expanse. I couldn't put a name to the feeling. It wasn't sadness—it was a heavy, numb silence, like standing at the bottom of a frozen lake looking up at the sky. ​Before this, I thought my problems were massive. I had spent months spiraling over fashion rivalries, campus rumors, miscommunications, and the terrifying fear of falling in love. I had lived under the naive, arrogant illusion that real, catastrophic tragedy was something that only happened to other people—something y

BENEDICT​The rain had turned into a relentless, grey drizzle by late afternoon. I was sitting on the edge of my leather armchair in my bedroom, staring blankly out the bay window while icing my swollen right knuckles with a bag of frozen peas.​The house was suffocatingly quiet. Aunt Chloe had gone to the hospital to check on Nathan and deal with his frantic parents, leaving the estate deserted except for the domestic staff moving silently through the halls.​A sharp, hesitant knock at my bedroom door broke the stillness.​I set the ice pack down, wincing slightly as I flexed my fingers. "Come in."​The heavy oak door creaked open, but it wasn't Aunt Chloe returning to deliver another lecture. It was Maria, one of the senior housekeepers. She gave me a nervous, uncertain look, holding her dust cloth tightly in both hands.​"Mr. Benedict," she said softly, her accent thick. "There is a young lady downstairs asking for you."​I pulled my brows together. "Valerie?"​Maria shook her head

BENEDICT​The rain had just started to fall when the Thorne family chauffeur pulled the sleek black sedan through the wrought-iron gates of the estate.​Behind us, the chaos of the beach house was miles away, but the ghost of it lingered in the heavy air of the car. The ambulance had already sped off toward the regional medical center, sirens wailing into the morning fog, taking Nathan with two fractured ribs, a shattered jaw, and his shattered ego. Valerie, Maya, and Jade had followed right behind the paramedics in the SUV. Luke and James had taken off separately, driving Elena back home.​I sat in the back seat, staring out at the blurred green trees passing by. My right knuckles were bruised purple, skin split and raw, but I didn't care about the sting. My mind was entirely consumed by the memory of Valerie’s terrified, bloodless face in that kitchen, and the way she had buried her head in my chest, sobbing like her world was ending.​When the car pulled up to the grand front entra

​VALERIE​I couldn't feel my hands.​My bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor of the beach house in an aimless, frantic rhythm. The air in my lungs burned like swallowed glass. You're the one who will go to jail, Valerie. Not me. You. The words looped in my head on a violent, non-stop circuit, drowning out the sound of the ocean, the gulls, the quiet hum of the morning.​I stumbled into the wide, sunlit marble kitchen, reaching blindly for the edge of the island counter to keep my legs from collapsing under me. A sob caught in my throat—sharp, dry, and ugly.​"Valerie?"​The deep, quiet voice made me flinch violently.​Ben was standing on the other side of the counter, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, holding a dark mug. He set it down instantly, his sharp green eyes taking in my bloodless face, my trembling shoulders, and the raw panic written into every line of my posture.​In two long strides, he rounded the island and was right in front of me.​"Hey," he murmured, h

VALERIE​The morning sun had barely crested the pine trees, casting a pale, silver light across the mist hanging over the ocean.​I couldn't sleep. The suffocating weight in my chest had dragged me out of bed before seven, sending me down to the private wooden dock behind the beach house just to breathe in the biting sea air. The wood beneath my bare feet was cold and slick with morning dew.​The sound of heavy, rapid footsteps breaking through the tall grass behind me made my blood freeze.​I didn't even have to turn around.​"What the hell was that last night, Valerie?"​Nathan’s voice sliced through the silence like a jagged blade. He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around violently to face him. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles were twitching, and the sharp scent of stale scotch clung to his skin. He hadn't slept either.​"Let go of me, Nathan," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the cold panic clawing at my throat. I shoved his hand off my s

BENEDICT​The ocean air on the back deck was cold, damp, and smelled of salt.​I leaned my forearm against one of the cedar pillars supporting the upper balcony, taking a slow sip of my scotch. Upstairs, through the illuminated glass, I could see Valerie standing by her vanity, pulling her hair back into a clip. Down here, the rest of the crew was down on the beach setting up the fire pit, leaving the main patio temporarily deserted.​The heavy glass sliding door behind me slid open with a harsh, metallic scrape.​I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. The sharp, aggressive footfalls on the wooden deck told me exactly who it was.​Nathan slammed a silver ice bucket down onto the outdoor table, his breath coming in agitated hitches. He walked right into my peripheral vision, his arms crossed tight over his chest, his posture rigid with pure, unadulterated hostility.​"You need to back off, Benedict," he snapped.​I slowly brought the glass to my lips, letting the burn of the whiskey h

VALERIE​The coastal sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time our chauffeur pulled the SUV into the sprawling, cobblestone driveway of the Thorne beach estate.​The house was massive—a modern glass-and-cedar compound cut directly into the ocean cliffs, illuminated by warm, glowing outdoor lights that reflected off the dark, crashing waves below. Nathan and the others were already here; three sports cars were parked in a sleek line near the multi-car garage, and loud music was faintly pulsing through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.​Ben stepped out of the back seat first, effortlessly grabbing my two heavy leather duffel bags along with his own luggage before I could even reach for them.​I pushed through the grand double glass doors of the entrance, the cool air conditioning hitting my skin. In the main lounge, the entire crew was already sprawled out on the white sectional couches—Nathan, Elena, Maya, her sister Jade, and Nathan’s varsity friends, Luke and James.​Jam