Novels by Maddie Brooks

The first bullet didn’t come with a sound.It came with death.Then came the second, third—dozens more, raining from nowhere. Bullets whizzed from invisible corners, tearing through velvet curtains, chandeliers, and flesh alike.Within seconds, the masquerade turned to mayhem.Trained guards from both the Kuznetsov estate and the Italian Mafia were down before they could even raise their weapons. Some screamed orders. Others never got the chance.The air was pierced with gunfire and shrieks. Wives in glittering gowns dropped their wine glasses, diving behind marble pillars. Blood spilled beside champagne.No one could tell where the snipers were.That was the terror.And it was planned.“Sniper!” someone shouted—but too late.A man slumped near the buffet. Another collapsed by the orchestra pit.Among the chaos, Lilia Kuznetsov, Sergei’s first wife, pulled a silver pistol from beneath her gown. Calm but alert. Years married to a mafia king had taught her how to shoot before scream.Sh

Without giving them time to argue, she turned and walked out.Avery blinked. "What’s with her? So grumpy.""She’s been close to Sergei for years. That pride? It’s thick," Lisa muttered, rubbing her face.Avery threw the pillow at her again. "Look at this bump on my head. It’s your fault."Lisa grinned. "You’re still pretty with it.""You little—" Avery growled, chasing her around the room.Later that day, guided by the headmaid’s instructions, they arrived at Velena Couture—a lavish, high-end boutique owned by the Kuznetsovs themselves.From the gold-plated entrance to the rows of designer gowns inside, the place screamed money and power.They both entered the building, instantly catching the attention of several women inside — clearly the other wives.As Avery and Lisa walked in, a hush fell over the room. Heads turned. Whispers followed. But neither of them seemed to care."Isn’t that the new wife?" one woman muttered."Yeah... She looks so full of herself," sneered a blonde woman,

The drive to the Kuznetsov estate dragged on like a slow descent into hell.Avery sat with her arms crossed, her glare fixed on the blurred scenery outside the window. Her thoughts spun with questions she couldn’t shake:What would Sergei Kuznetsov be like? Why did her family owe him so much? What kind of life awaited her in this prison of velvet and marble?Her stomach twisted. She didn’t fear monsters—she feared cages.After two suffocating hours, the car finally slowed. Avery leaned forward, heart lurching as massive iron gates loomed ahead.They creaked open like ancient jaws, revealing an estate that seemed plucked from a billionaire’s fever dream.She stepped out, her boots crunching on the perfectly paved driveway. Her breath caught. The mansion before her was a palace—towers of stone, gold-tipped roofs, windows tall enough to swallow her whole.Armed guards stood like statues at every post, eyes cold and impassive.“Welcome to hell,” she muttered under her breath.A woman in

Avery’s legs pumped furiously against the pedals, her breath clouding in the crisp night air.The scent of greasy pizza clung to her clothes, lingering like a memory of a life she was barely holding onto.The streets of the neighborhood were dead silent, too quiet for comfort. She hated silence—it reminded her of waiting for things she never asked for.The bike suddenly stuttered and choked.“Not now… come on!” she hissed, slamming a fist against the handlebars.Dead. Again.Her boots scraped the asphalt as she dismounted, muttering curses under her breath. She had fixed this hunk of junk yesterday—personally. Same chain, same issue.Life had a way of falling apart just when you thought you had a grip on it.Avery yanked off her helmet, letting her choppy, short hair fall messily around her face. The night was cold, streetlights flickering above like dying stars.She tucked her hands into her leather jacket and began walking, just a few blocks from home. Her boots echoed loudly in the