Novels by E S Roselyn

Natalie’s wedding is everything I could ever want for her. The flowers bloom in soft pastels, laughter spills through the air, and the music wraps around the room like a promise of forever. She looks radiant, glowing with the kind of happiness she once feared she’d never find. For a moment, pride swells in my chest, and I let myself smile for her.She's getting married to Louis Dublin, a huge tech giant in New York. Theirs was the kind of romance you don't see coming. It just hits like a storm. The moment I step past the grand doors of the reception hall, the atmosphere shifts. I had Damien go ahead of me, knowing that if we both alighted the same car, the NEW YORK TIMES would get a good gossip topic for a week. Heads turn, conversations freeze mid-sentence. Crystal glasses hover in the air, suspended in trembling hands.And then the whispers begin.“Is that… her?”“She came back?”“After everything?”“How could she just show up after three years like nothing happened?”Their eye

Three Years Later The cold bites against my skin as I step out of the private jet. The private terminal is quiet, less chaotic. New York. It seems like forever since I last saw the skylines of this city. Three years since I was forced to leave in shame and disgrace. But now I'm back and I'm no longer the girl they mocked or ridiculed. My phone rings and I pick it up to see it's the man who's been my anchor all these years. “Damien,” I say when I answer the call. “Have you arrived yet?” “Yes I just got out of the plane.” I walk out of the terminal, searching the area for the car that's supposed to pick me up. “Hurry home then. Isabella has been asking about you.” He said. I smile before hanging up the call. A man in a black suit walks towards me and bows. “ Mrs Moretti, I'm here to take you home.” I nod and follow him to the black limo. We get in and drive out of the airport. As we drive through the city I let my gaze linger outside. Not much has changed in three years. Nat

The words hang in the air, heavy, almost absurd in their audacity. Marry him? Be Isabella’s mother? Step fully into Damien Moretti’s world? My pulse accelerates, not from excitement, but from calculation. Every instinct in me tells me to hesitate, to analyze, to measure the risks.I might have grown up amongst riches, but Damien was a different kind of rich. The rich that involved blood. I take a step back, forcing my voice to steady. “You can’t seriously expect me to just… agree.” My fingers flex at my sides, twisting the hem of my dress. Damien doesn’t flinch. His gaze is calm, intense, like he’s reading my mind even as I try to hide it. “I’m not asking for an answer now,” he says evenly. “I want you to think about what’s at stake. For her. What you stand to gain, Leina Ashford.” The shock I feel must show on my face, because he chuckles. “It's all over the news. New York Times aired it for a week. Every soul in New York has seen the video and knows the scandal.” “And you want s

Morning light slips through the blinds and lands across my face. I push the pillow over my head, trying to block it out, but the headache from last night keeps pulsing. I barely slept last night. Each time I shut my eyes Isabella's face comes to my mind. The stiffness in her shoulders when Irina scolded her. The way she didn't expect her father to defend her. That lifeless room with nothing but a strict schedule pinned to the wall. It haunts me.What parent raises their child in such a manner? My phone rings on the nightstand, interrupting my train of thoughts. Natalie’s name flashes.“Hey,” I answer, my voice low, edged with sleep..“Hey sweetie. How are you enjoying Mexico?” Her voice is vibrant, filled with life as always. “Well, I'm alive. Does that count?” She lets out a laugh. “Of course it does. It's almost a month now and I'm happy to know you are doing okay. I spoke with Vincent and he told me you're holding up well.” “I do what I have to survive.” I contemplate on te

The uber winds through streets I’ve never dared to explore before. My fingers drum nervously on my knees, and Rosa is practically buzzing beside me, pressing her face to the glass as though she’s afraid to miss a single view.“This place,” she whispers as we approach tall iron gates. “Leina, this isn’t just money. This is old money. Untouchable money.”The gates open after a brief call on the intercom, and we’re ushered into a neighborhood that looks like it belongs in another world. Lush gardens, marble fountains, manicured driveways, it all feels suffocatingly perfect.By the time we pull up to the sprawling white estate Isabella calls home, my stomach has tied itself into knots.The uber drops us by the gates and we step in. A servant greets us, bowing her head politely. “Señorita Isabella. You've been gone for so long. You're father is so worried.” “Where is Papa,” Isabella asks, clutching her bag tighter.“He went out. I'll inform him of your return.” I should probably leave.

The club is alive again tonight, every light like a star that burns too close. By now, the stage doesn’t terrify me. it makes me feel untouchable. I twirl under the spotlight, each movement peeling away another layer of the woman who was once weak, naïve, and blind. Here, I control the story. The men only get the pieces of me I allow.They scream, wanting more, throwing bills at me. But I decide what to give them. After my shift, I join Rosa and Sofia at our usual booth. We drink, laugh, and dance until our feet ache, until the bruises of yesterday don’t feel quite so heavy. For a few hours, I let myself forget the ashes of my old life.---The next morning, restless, I can’t stand the silence of my apartment. The four walls suffocate me, dragging me back into memories I don’t want. So I leave.The city is blinding in the daylight. Vendors crowd the streets, shouting over one another, colors and scents swirling until I feel drunk on life itself. I stop at a fruit stand, fumbling ove