Novels by Gafa author

The wedding cheers still echoed through the hall as Leviana and Marceline took a deep breath in the corner of the room. “This is our chance,” Leviana whispered, her eyes fixed on Arga and Deviana, who were still smiling at the stage.Marceline nodded, opening a tablet displaying a list of VIP guests and media. “We’ll create a scandal in front of them all. Cameras ready, reporters prepared. This time, there’s no way for them to escape,” she said, her eyes shining as she looked at Leviana.Meanwhile, Deviana and Arga were chatting with family and guests, laughing lightly. Deviana glanced around, feeling relieved to see everyone enjoying the moment. “Arga, I’m glad everything has gone smoothly so far,” she whispered.Arga looked at her with confidence. “And it will stay that way. Don’t worry, Deviana. We focus on us, not them.”Unbeknownst to them, Leviana had positioned several freelance reporters disguised as guests to record every move. Marceline held a phone button linked to a small

The wedding cheers still echoed through the hall as Leviana and Marceline took a deep breath in the corner of the room. “This is our chance,” Leviana whispered, her eyes fixed on Arga and Deviana, who were still smiling at the stage.Marceline nodded, opening a tablet displaying a list of VIP guests and media. “We’ll create a scandal in front of them all. Cameras ready, reporters prepared. This time, there’s no way for them to escape,” she said, her eyes shining as she looked at Leviana.Meanwhile, Deviana and Arga were chatting with family and guests, laughing lightly. Deviana glanced around, feeling relieved to see everyone enjoying the moment. “Arga, I’m glad everything has gone smoothly so far,” she whispered.Arga looked at her with confidence. “And it will stay that way. Don’t worry, Deviana. We focus on us, not them.”Unbeknownst to them, Leviana had positioned several freelance reporters disguised as guests to record every move. Marceline held a phone button linked to a small

Guests began cheering as Deviana and Arga walked down the aisle toward the stage, but from behind the decorations and corners of the room, Leviana and Marceline were watching with a new plan. Leviana’s eyes locked on Arga from a distance, her lips curling into a thin smile. “This time, we’ll lure them in front of everyone,” she murmured.Marceline nodded, holding a tablet displaying several reporters and freelance photographers. “We need footage that looks real, something that makes everyone question Deviana and Arga’s relationship,” she said.Meanwhile, Deviana suddenly felt a surge of tension. “Arga, I feel like they’re planning something,” she whispered, scanning the room.Arga held her hand, looking into her eyes firmly. “I know. But we have to stay calm. Don’t give them a chance.”Leviana moved swiftly, positioning a hired photographer near a guest table. With a subtle motion, the photographer captured Deviana and Arga as if they were being overly intimate among other guests, the

The wedding hall was filled with guests, crystal chandeliers reflecting warm light across the room. Deviana walked beside Arga, both dressed elegantly, her face still tense though she tried to smile.“Are you sure everything is ready, Arga?” Deviana asked softly, her eyes scanning the guests who were starting to arrive.“Everything is arranged. We just need to enjoy this moment,” Arga replied, holding Deviana’s hand to reassure her.Meanwhile, behind the entrance, Leviana and Marceline monitored the crowd through tablets. They watched the guests’ faces, counting who could be used as pawns. Leviana smirked slyly. “It’s time to create a little surprise. Let’s start with the guest closest to the media. Let’s see their reaction.”Marceline nodded. “Every camera we set up will capture the commotion. Everything will look like Deviana’s fault. She won’t know what hit her.”Elsewhere, a freelance photographer separated from the crowd, capturing shots of Deviana and Arga’s anxious expressions,

Deviana and Arga were walking down the corridors of the venue, inspecting every corner of the wedding preparations. Deviana’s eyes scanned the surroundings warily, aware that Leviana and Marceline’s spies might be watching from afar.“Arga, see? Every corner is neat. But I feel something’s wrong,” Deviana said, gripping the back of a chair, her eyes following everyone who passed by.Arga turned, squinting. “Who are you suspicious of now?”“Something’s off. I’m certain Leviana and Marceline are planning to ruin our moment. Just look—some of the guests they sent seem way too curious,” Deviana replied, her tone firm but low.Suddenly, a woman with a small camera approached, smiling sweetly. “Excuse me, may I take some photos of the preparations?”Deviana stared sharply. “Who sent you? Which media are you from?”The woman hesitated for a moment, smiling. “Oh, just an invitation from a guest. Nothing specific. I just want to capture some fun moments,” she said, beginning to take photos, bu

Deviana stood in the middle of the wedding hall, which was gradually filling with guests, her face still slightly tense after the chaos with the decorations and catering. She held Arga’s hand, trying both to calm herself and to soothe the anxious man beside her.“Arga, take a deep breath. Everything will be fine. I’ve made sure everything is back in order,” Deviana said, gently patting his shoulder.Arga glanced around, his eyes revealing lingering doubts. “I hope you’re right, Deviana. I just… I’m afraid something might happen again before this wedding.”Deviana gave a faint smile, but her eyes sharply scanned a few guests who had begun whispering. Some were taking photos, while others focused on the catering tables that had briefly been in disarray. She knew gossip could start spreading from here.Meanwhile, some invited influencers and journalists began noting every detail for their coverage. One influencer photographed a slightly crooked flower arrangement, highlighting Arga’s ten

That morning in Paris, the sky was a pale blue. The sunlight filtered through the windows of Evelyn’s new gallery, softly reflecting off the glass walls and light gray marble. The sound of footsteps echoed quietly through the rooms, now filled with works of art, most of them centered around the theme of "the journey home"—to oneself, to hope, to the courage to love.Evelyn stood in the center of the main exhibition hall. A simple white dress wrapped her body, her hair casually pinned up. She stared at one of the large pieces she had titled "The Step Home", an abstract painting of textures made from layers of earth, water, and fragments of dark blue that evaporated into light."Why has your work become softer lately?" a voice came from behind.Evelyn turned and smiled. William stood there, wearing a light gray suit and a thin scarf around his neck."Because I've finally stopped painting from the wounds," Evelyn replied quietly. "I’ve started painting from peace."William walked closer

"This chair is still about to break," William muttered, tapping the creaky wooden armrest.Evelyn chuckled softly, sitting beside him on the balcony of their old apartment, now empty. The only light came from the moon filtering through the open curtains, casting a gentle glow on the dusty floor and peeling walls."I always loved sitting here," Evelyn said as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the wind gently brushing past them. "Back then, whenever the world felt too heavy, this balcony became our quiet escape."William glanced at her."And sometimes the place where we argued too.""Especially when you claimed your espresso was better than my tea," Evelyn replied with a teasing smile.The Parisian night air was soft, carrying the scent of recent rain. In the distance, the city traffic hummed like a lullaby. Above them, a rare spread of stars glimmered faintly—seldom seen in the city, but tonight it felt as if the universe itself had made room.The apartment was being cl

"Are you sure you want to use this color?" Evelyn pointed at the half-finished painting displayed in the center of the gallery. Faded blue and muted gold stood out among the otherwise warm palette.William, holding a brush, turned and raised an eyebrow."Blue is the wound. Gold is the healing. We're talking about reconstruction, aren’t we? We have to be brave enough to place the wound at the center."Evelyn paused for a moment, then nodded."You're right. You’ve finally learned art well."William gave a crooked smile."I learned from the best."They were inside a contemporary art hall on the outskirts of Paris, the venue for a charity exhibition titled “Reconstruction and Forgiveness.” The event was initiated by an international art foundation to raise funds for a floating gallery for victims of natural disasters. Evelyn had been appointed as creative director—and, surprisingly, she suggested William’s name as co-curator.Though many were shocked by their collaboration, no one could d

"I want you to hear this not as someone who loves me, but as someone I once hurt," Evelyn said quietly, her eyes fixed on the cup of tea cooling in front of her.They were sitting in a small garden behind the gallery where they'd spent the afternoon. The Paris air was overcast but warm, as if the city itself understood that this conversation wasn’t an ordinary one. Sparrows flew low between the trees, and the wind carried whispers that sounded almost like prayers.William simply nodded, giving space. No pressure. No interruptions."I once chose to walk away... not because I didn’t love you. But because I thought loving meant letting go," Evelyn continued, her raspy voice nearly swallowed by the breeze. "And when Haruki came along, I didn’t know whether I was trying to heal… or just erase your traces."William watched her silently. There was no anger, only a sadness long settled—like ripples on a lake long after the stone has sunk."I’ll never forgive myself for letting Haruki get so c

"You're still walking too fast," William muttered, half-jogging to catch up with Evelyn along the narrow sidewalk.Evelyn turned her head, half-smiling. "You were the one who invited me, and now you're falling behind."The Parisian sky that afternoon was gray but dry. A cool breeze slipped through the falling leaves. They stopped in front of an old building with large windows and a classic wooden door.Evelyn paused, her gaze falling on the small sign above the door: Galerie Lumière."This place..." she whispered, the words catching on a memory that pressed sharply against her chest.William nodded. "My first exhibition. And… the first time I realized that art means nothing if I can't share it with someone."Evelyn stepped inside slowly. The gallery was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of shoes against wooden floors and the glow of warm hanging lights.There were no visitors. William had arranged for a private viewing, just for the two of them.On the walls hung photos from yea

“The direction to the exhibition earlier… we passed this street, right?”William’s voice held a trace of uncertainty as they walked along a narrow cobblestone path on the outskirts of Paris. The rain was light, not heavy, but enough to overwhelm Evelyn’s small umbrella as droplets began to slip through her hair and the edge of her jacket.Evelyn sighed, glancing around. No taxis. No phone signal.“We’re… lost, aren’t we?” she asked calmly, though her tone carried a hint of tired laughter.William turned to her and chuckled. “Lost—in the most literal and cinematic sense.”The rain fell harder. The narrow street shimmered, and the old hanging lamps between buildings cast shadows that made the scene feel like a noir film—unscripted, moody, real.Evelyn moved closer, trying to fit under William’s umbrella as hers had already been ruined by the wind.“Do you still wander aimlessly like this?” she asked, eyes on the wet stones beneath their feet.William took a beat before replying, “No. Th

“Say it again.”Liam’s voice came through the phone low and steady, but Elara could hear the strain beneath it—the way he was holding himself together by will alone.“I said we stop letting him move us like pieces,” Elara replied, standing in Adrian’s living room, her back straight despite the tremor in her hands. “We stop reacting separately.”There was a pause. A breath.“And you’re calling me now,” Liam said, “because you trust me again?”Elara closed her eyes for a brief second. “I’m calling you because I don’t want fear deciding for us anymore.”Adrian watched her carefully, saying nothing, giving her the space to speak without interference.“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Liam said. “Don’t argue.”Elara almost smiled. Almost. “I wasn’t planning to.”Liam arrived with a duffel bag and dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t look at Adrian at first. His gaze went straight to Elara, scanning her like he was memorizing proof that she was real, unharmed.“You okay?” he asked.“I a

“Don’t move.”The command was quiet, but it carried authority—sharp, controlled, dangerous.Elara froze halfway down the hallway, her bare feet pressed to the cold floor. Adrian stood between her and the back door, one hand raised slowly, the other clenched around his phone as if it were a weapon.“Police are already on their way,” Adrian said evenly, eyes fixed on the shadow beyond the glass. “You don’t want this to end badly.”A silhouette shifted outside. Slow. Unhurried.“That depends,” the voice replied, calm to the point of cruelty, “on who decides what ‘badly’ means.”Elara’s heart hammered so loud she was sure it could be heard through the walls. She took a step back without looking, her shoulder brushing the wall.“Adrian,” she whispered. “He knows.”“I know,” Adrian murmured back. “That’s why you’re staying behind me.”The doorknob turned once more—then stopped. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.Then footsteps retreated.Adrian didn’t relax. Not yet.He moved quickly

“Open the door, Liam.”The knock wasn’t loud, but it carried weight—controlled, deliberate, the kind that didn’t ask permission.Liam stood frozen in the hallway for a second too long before Devano appeared beside him, eyes wary. “Who is it?”Liam swallowed. “Go to your room.”“Dad—”“Please.”Devano hesitated, then retreated, glancing back once before disappearing down the hall.Liam exhaled and opened the door.His father stood on the porch, posture rigid, jaw set. His mother was beside him, arms crossed, eyes sharp with restrained fury.“So,” his mother said coldly, stepping inside without waiting. “This is where you’ve been hiding.”“I’m not hiding,” Liam replied, closing the door behind them. “I’m living.”His father scoffed. “Living? Or ruining your life?”Liam met his gaze. “Why are you here?”“To stop you,” his mother snapped. “Before you throw everything away for a woman who brings nothing but chaos.”Liam’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t talk about Elara like that.”His mot

“Mom, are you coming back tonight?”Elara froze with her hand still on the car door.Aria stood on the porch, clutching her stuffed rabbit, eyes too wide for a question that simple.Elara forced a smile and walked back a few steps, crouching so they were eye level. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart. I just need a little time to think.”Aria frowned. “Like when people think and don’t come back?”Elara’s chest tightened. She pulled Aria into her arms, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and home. “No. Not like that. I promise.”From the doorway, Liam watched silently, his hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to step forward. Wanted to say something that would fix this. But every word he rehearsed felt wrong—too late or too selfish.Elara stood, meeting his eyes across the small distance that suddenly felt like miles.“I’ll call,” she said quietly.“I’ll wait,” Liam replied, just as quietly.She nodded once, then turned away before he could see her doubt.Adrian’s place was quiet in a

“Did you write this?”Elara’s voice barely carried over the sound of sirens fading in the distance. Her fingers hovered inches from the note taped to the shattered window, as if touching it might burn her.Liam didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer, eyes scanning the handwriting—sharp, deliberate, familiar in a way that made his stomach twist.“No,” he said finally. “But I know who did.”Elara laughed softly, the sound thin and unsteady. “Of course you do.”She pulled the note free herself.You keep choosing wrong.And I keep cleaning up after you.Her knees weakened. Liam caught her just in time, his arm firm around her back.“Hey. Stay with me,” he murmured.She pressed her palm to his chest, feeling his heartbeat—fast, real, grounding. “He’s not hiding anymore.”“No,” Liam agreed. “He wants us to know he’s close.”The police returned within minutes, flashlights sweeping the yard, radios crackling with low voices. Elara stood wrapped in a blanket on the couch, watching shadows

“Don’t open that door!”Elara’s shout came a second too late.Liam’s hand was already on the handle when a sharp knock echoed through the house—hard, deliberate, not rushed. The kind of knock that carried intention.“I’ll handle it,” Liam said, voice low but steady.Elara grabbed his sleeve. “What if it’s him?”Liam turned, cupping her face briefly, grounding her with his gaze. “Then he won’t get past me.”He opened the door.Two police officers stood outside, faces grim, posture alert.“Mr. Hayes?” one of them asked.“Yes.”“We received another report. A neighbor saw someone leaving your backyard less than ten minutes ago.”Elara’s knees nearly buckled. Liam stepped back instinctively, keeping her behind him.“Did they see his face?” Liam asked.The officer shook his head. “No. But we found this.”He handed Liam a small object sealed in a plastic bag.A silver key.Elara gasped. “That’s… that’s my old storage key.”Liam turned sharply to her. “The one you said you lost?”She nodded,

The city learned to say her name differently after the war ended.Not whispered. Not shouted.Measured.Alyssa stood at the highest window of the tower that now bore her signature—not carved in stone, not announced on plaques, but felt in the silence that followed every decision made inside it. The industry had not healed. It had rearranged itself around her.Markets stabilized. Rivals retreated. New predators circled at a safer distance.No one came close enough to bite.Behind her, the office was quiet. Not the tense quiet of plotting, but the rare kind earned only after devastation—when all lies had been burned and only truth remained, scorched but intact.Ethan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her reflection instead of her back.“You’re thinking too loudly,” he said.Alyssa didn’t turn.“That’s how you know I’m still alive.”A faint smile tugged at his mouth. He walked closer but stopped just short of touching her, as if instinct still warned him: she is fire,

Silence came in layers.It was not the fragile kind that followed chaos, trembling and unsure. It was the heavy, deliberate silence of something that had survived war and chosen to stand still—not because it was weak, but because it no longer needed to prove its strength.Alyssa stood alone in the highest office of the building she now ruled.The city spread beneath the glass walls like a living organism—lights pulsing, traffic flowing, ambition breathing in neon veins. This empire no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like a throne forged from bones and patience.She loosened the cuff of her blazer and rested her palm against the cold glass.Once, she had thought victory would feel louder.She had imagined triumph as applause, fear in others’ eyes, the satisfaction of watching enemies fall. But what she felt now was quieter—sharper. A calm that came from knowing no one could corner her again. Not with threats. Not with love. Not with promises soaked in poison.Behind her, the do

She stood alone at the top floor, where glass replaced walls and the city bowed beneath her feet.The boardroom behind Alyssa was silent—not because it was empty, but because no one dared to speak. Directors sat stiff in their leather chairs, men and women who once believed power was inherited, traded, or stolen quietly in back rooms. Today, they understood something else.Power could also be claimed.Alyssa rested her palms on the obsidian table, her reflection fractured across its polished surface. She wore no crown, no extravagant symbol of victory. Only a tailored dark suit, sharp lines, restrained elegance. Control didn’t need decoration.“This meeting is not a negotiation,” she said calmly. Her voice carried without effort. “It’s a declaration.”Across the table, the last remnants of resistance shifted uncomfortably. Legal advisors, interim executives, foreign observers—each had come prepared for arguments, leverage, threats.None had prepared for certainty.“The acquisition att

The city did not know it yet, but a new war had already begun.Alyssa stood before the glass wall of her office, watching the skyline glow with cold lights. Every building out there represented power—money, influence, ambition sharpened into steel. She had conquered most of it. She had survived Davin. She had rebuilt an empire with her bare hands and bloodied resolve.And still, danger found her.“They’re not like Davin.”Ethan’s voice came from behind her, calm but heavy.Alyssa didn’t turn. “No,” she replied. “They’re worse.”The file on her desk lay open, pages spread like an autopsy report. International investors. Offshore funds. Quiet acquisitions. No public face, no loud threats—only precise movements designed to suffocate from the inside.Predators who didn’t roar.“They don’t want control,” Alyssa continued. “They want ownership.”Ethan walked closer, stopping beside her. His presence was familiar now—not comforting, not soft, but solid. Like a blade she had finally learned h

The city lay quiet beneath a sky the color of old steel, the kind of calm that only came after too many storms. From the top floor of the building, Alyssa watched the lights below flicker like distant embers—remnants of fires she had started, survived, and learned to control.Her office no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like a scar: healed on the surface, aching underneath.She stood with her arms crossed, back straight, posture flawless. Power had reshaped her body language the way pain reshaped her heart.Behind her, the door opened without announcement.“You’re still awake,” Ethan said.She didn’t turn. “You’re still here.”A pause. Heavy. Loaded with months of unsaid things.“I wasn’t planning to leave tonight,” he replied.“Good,” Alyssa said. “I wasn’t planning to ask you to stay.”That was how they spoke now—like knives wrapped in silk.Ethan stepped closer, stopping a careful distance behind her. He looked different. Leaner. Quieter. The recklessness that once defined

Ethan didn’t knock.He never did anymore.The door to Alyssa’s private office opened with a quiet certainty, the kind that came from someone who no longer asked for permission to enter her world. Alyssa didn’t look up from the holographic display floating above her desk, streams of financial projections and international headlines reflecting faintly in her eyes.“You’re late,” she said flatly.Ethan closed the door behind him. “You told me not to be early.”“I told you not to be predictable.”A corner of his mouth twitched, but there was no humor in it. Outside the glass walls, the city burned with neon and ambition—new investors circling like sharks, rumors spreading faster than truth. Alyssa’s empire stood tall, but it was no longer alone.He stepped closer. “The Zurich group confirmed the move.”That got her attention.Alyssa flicked her fingers, dismissing the display. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms slowly. “Already?”“They didn’t wait for Davin’s shadow to fade,”