Novel-novel oleh E S Roselyn

DAMIEN The room is quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the old house settling. Leina’s curled on the bed, her breathing deep and even, finally resting after days of strain. I sit in the armchair near the window, phone in hand, nursing my shoulder and trying not to wake her.I'm going through emails when my phone screen lights up. Carlos.I answer on the first ring, keeping my voice low. “This better be good.”There’s a pause, then Carlos exhales sharply. “ Damien, you are not going to like this.”My grip tightens. “Say it.”“It’s about Leina’s mother. She's alive.”Every muscle in my body stills. I glance at the bed, at the woman sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware. My pulse hammers. “Ate you drunk, Carlos. Her mother died when she was little.”“That’s what everyone was told,” he says grimly. “But I just got word from a contact in Valencia. She’s alive. Or at least…there’s someone fitting her exact description being kept under tight watch in a

Clara doesn’t move at first. She’s still gripping Jonah’s little shoulders as if I’m going to snatch him away. Her eyes dart toward the closed door, then back to me. For a heartbeat she looks like a cornered animal.“I can’t,” she whispers.“You can,” I tell her gently. “It’s just us now. He’s not here.”Her chin trembles. “You don’t understand. He…he promised he’d take Jonah if I ever told anyone.”“I do understand.” My voice comes out firmer than I expect. “I’ve seen the reports, Clara. The bruises. Natalie found everything. You don’t have to hide anymore.”Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts. Then, slowly, she rolls up the sleeve of her blouse. Angry purple bruises bloom along her upper arm, fingerprints dark against pale skin. “This was last week,” she says flatly. She turns her wrist, there’s a faint, healing cut. “And this.”The air in the small room feels too thin. Jonah shifts in his wheelchair, small hands tightening on his tablet. “Mommy…” he murmurs.“It’s okay, sweethe

LEINA When I finally pull into Natalie's driveway, she’s already at the door, hair in a messy bun, robe cinched tightly around her waist. She looks…rattled. I don't miss the hickey marks all over her neck.My lips lift in a smirk. “Well, you have a right to be pregnant.” A pink hue covers her cheek. “Last night was a blast. I told him about the pregnancy and he went all cave man on me.” “What do you expect?” I ask, shaking my head as she closed the door behind her. “With that lingerie you wore.” Her laughter is soft as she leads me to her living room.The living room smells faintly of coffee. Papers are scattered over the coffee table—printouts, screenshots, photographs. My heart gives a nervous thud.Natalie gestures to the couch. “Have a seat. Breakfast will be ready in a while.”I perch on the edge, my bag still in my lap. “You’re scaring me.”She laughs. “Relax, it's nothing serious. Relax, there's nothing to be scared of.” My fingers freeze on the folder. “What do you mean?”

Leina My hands are slick with Damien’s blood.I’ve already pressed every towel I could grab from the bathroom to his shoulder, but the dark patch keeps spreading. His head rests in my lap, his skin clammy and grey. The man who always feels like steel now feels terrifyingly human.“Come on, Damien,” I whisper, brushing damp hair off his forehead. “Stay with me.”With my free hand I fumble for my phone and hit the number saved under “Dr. I.” He picks up on the first ring.“Mrs Moretti?”“It’s Damien,” I rasp. “He’s been shot. I need you at the house. Now. Please.”“I’m on my way. Keep pressure on the wound and keep him warm.”The line goes dead. I drag in a shaky breath, toss the phone aside and pull a blanket over Damien’s body. His eyes flutter once, then slide closed again. His feverish skin burns against my thighs.By the time the front door clicks open downstairs, my own hands are trembling. I race to meet the doctor at the foyer.“Upstairs,” I say, not bothering with greetings. “

Damien Hours EarlierI stare at the files spread across my desk, every page screaming failure. Bills of lading, customs clearances, shipping logs—all showing the same thing. Interceptions. Missing cargo.My gaze snaps to Rodrigo, who’s standing in front of me like a man waiting for his own funeral.“Care to explain the meaning of this?” My voice is low, but it vibrates with rage.He swallows hard. “Boss… the shipments have been getting intercepted for some time now. Magno just called. He said no arms were delivered to Turkey. Not one crate.”I slam my palm down on the desk so hard the coffee mug rattles and tips. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”Rodrigo flinches. “We’re tracing the routes, but whoever’s doing it is good. No leaks in the docks, no chatter on the streets. It’s like they’re always one step ahead.”“Someone is feeding them our movements,” I snap, rising to my feet. “We don’t lose shipments. Not mine. Not in my name.”He keeps his eyes down. “I’ll tighten securit

Leina “Earth to Leina!” Zara snaps her fingers before me , startling me. “Where are you lost?” “I'm…sorry girls. What were you saying?” “The ASHFORD HOLDINGS Charity Gala is in two days,” Natalie smiles. “I already have the perfect dress in mind for the occasion .” “How does that have to do with why we are in a lingerie shop?” After my meeting with Hilda Bolton, they practically dragged me away from the office, saying we had to be somewhere important. That's how I ended up in a lingerie shop with two crazy women. “Well,” Natalie runs her fingers along a red piece. “I am about to tell Louis I'm pregnant. I'll do it tonight, and I want it to be spicy.” “Don't you guys have enough sex as it is?” Zara raised a curious brow. Natalie smiles. “Won't hurt to you know, spice it up a little.” She picks up a black two piece and holds it up to her body.” “You'll make Louis lose his mind,” I say with a small smile.“You should get one for yourself, Zara suggests. “What will I do with it