Novels by Bliss Ositas

The storm that followed Alex’s release shook New York to its core.For three full days after Dennis discovered the evidence Alex gave him, the station became a war zone—meetings behind closed doors, state officials going in and out, lawyers hovering like bees, phones ringing non-stop. But the moment the police finally released Alex Spencer, the entire city erupted. Angry protests gathered outside the precinct, people demanding answers from the justice system they trusted. The media tore into the police with merciless headlines, questioning their competence and their integrity.“How can a murder suspect be released?”“What happened to justice for Martins Cooper?”“Is New York police now controlled by powerful elites?”The noise grew louder every hour.Amara watched everything on TV with a hand pressed against her mouth. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that perhaps Alex truly wasn’t the monster she thought or terrified that she might still be wr

The chair screeched lightly against the floor as Amara pulled it out. She didn’t sit gently, she dropped into it, her breath sharp, her eyes burning like she was forcing herself not to explode. The interrogation room felt smaller with her inside, as if her fury had filled every corner. Alex sat opposite her, his hands cuffed and fixed to the metal table. The chains made a soft rattling sound whenever he shifted, but he barely moved.She couldn’t even look at him at first. Her chest rose and fell in slow, angry waves, the weight of betrayal clinging to her skin like thick fog. Then finally, her eyes snapped to his.“Tell me the truth,” she said, her voice trembling, not with weakness but with a rage she had held back too long. “Why would you do this to me?”Alex swallowed. His voice came out quiet but steady.“I didn’t do anything to you, Amara.”She laughed—a painful, disbelieving sound.“Don’t insult my intelligence,” she snapped. “Roland and Eva confessed. They mentioned you. You

The tension inside Spencer Group's executive boardroom was the kind that made the air feel heavy and oppressive, as if every breath carried physical weight that pressed down on the lungs. The long mahogany table, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the harsh fluorescent light overhead, until James walked through the double doors and silence rippled across the room like a swift wind cutting through tall grass.He took the seat at the head of the table—Alex's seat. The chair reserved for the President. The symbolic throne of power in this corporate empire.A bold declaration on its own, spoken without words.His expression was stone cold, carved from granite, his posture sharp and rigid, his fingers clasped together in front of him on the polished wood like a general ready to announce war to his troops. The senior executives exchanged worried looks across the table, their eyes darting between James and each other, searching for answers no one had. Everyone had heard about Alex's su

The sky was still grey with early morning fog when the police hotline rang. The officer on duty answered, barely awake, expecting another false alarm or noise complaint. Instead, the caller spoke quickly, breathlessly.“Good morning, officer. I—I think I just dropped off the man you people are looking for. The CEO… the one on the news.”The officer sat upright.“You mean Alex Spencer?”“Yes! Yes, him!” the taxi driver said. “I swear it’s him. Same face, same height, same hair. He told me to drop him at the old Spencer Group plant on Riverside Industrial Lane. That place is empty now.”Within minutes, a full SWAT team was deployed.The convoy sped through the city, sirens slicing the morning air.As they approached the abandoned property—an old manufacturing plant Spencer Group shut down years ago, the scene was chilling. Weeds curled up the cracked walls. Windows were broken. Rusted machinery stood in the courtyard like metal skeletons.Dennis stepped forward, signaling silently to

Inspector Dennis stood in his office long after Roland and Eva’s confessions were typed, recorded, signed, and sealed. The cold weight of everything he had just uncovered pressed down on him until his breath turned shallow. Outside his door, officers buzzed with frantic disbelief, whispering Alex Spencer’s name in tones that carried shock, rage, and something close to betrayal.Dennis finally picked up his pen.His hand trembled but not from fear. From fury.From the deep, unsettling knowledge that the man the world had praised for years… the man powerfully rooted in New York’s corporate and political landscape… the man Amara once loved, and his city respected… had orchestrated murder.In clear, bold handwriting, Dennis signed his name beneath the arrest request.Then he stamped it.WARRANT FOR THE ARREST OF ALEX SPENCER.A chill swept through him. There was no going back.He walked straight to the operations floor, lifted the warrant for his entire team to see, and declared:“Full

Three days had crawled by since the Inspector General placed that impossible, dangerous command on Inspector Dennis— release Roland and Eva… or lose everything.Three days of a voice echoing in his head like poison.Three days of wrestling fear, law, duty, and conscience.Yet, the suspects remained exactly where they were.Not because Dennis forgot.Not because he hesitated.But because the moment the call ended that day, something in him rose, something too rooted in integrity to be pushed aside.After pacing his office like a man trapped inside two lives, Dennis had grabbed his keys and driven straight to the Attorney General’s office, cutting through traffic with a speed fueled by conflict.He didn’t wait to be announced. He walked in and faced the AG—the only man powerful enough, fearless enough, principled enough to challenge the kind of monster who stood behind the IGP’s strange order.For almost twenty minutes, Dennis spoke.Not as a junior officer bowing to authority.Not as a

"Julia, you've mastered the art of emotional blackmail," Bosco snapped, his voice hoarse and ragged but still somehow dripping with arrogance despite the fear that lingered visibly in his eyes. Even now, cornered and desperate, he clung to his superiority like a drowning man clutching driftwood.Julia's gaze hardened into something cold and sharp. She took a slow, deliberate step closer to him, folding her arms across her chest once more. "Bosco," she said coolly, each word precise and cutting, "it truly baffles me how you can be this confident that everything in this world revolves around you." Her lips curled slightly at the corners, not quite a smile but something far more dangerous. "You honestly believe I would destroy a woman's birthday celebration, risk the wrath of William Austin himself, and expose my own scars just to gain your attention?"Her words landed like consecutive slaps across his face.William let out a low, genuinely amused laugh beside her, shaking his head s

"Stop! Please!" Gavin screamed, his voice cracking with desperation as he flapped both hands wildly through the air. The motion was frantic, erratic, as though the sheer force of his panic could somehow halt what was coming. His face had twisted into something unrecognizable. Gone was the arrogance that had always defined him, that smug superiority he wore like armor. Now there was only raw, unfiltered terror. Sweat beaded across his forehead, mixing with the blood that had already begun to dry in dark streaks along his temple. His knees buckled slightly, trembling under the weight of fear that had finally crushed what remained of his pride."Julia, stop Mr. Austin now!" he shouted hoarsely, his voice breaking as he whirled toward her. His eyes were wide, pleading, searching her face for any hint of mercy. She was his last lifeline, his final desperate hope in a situation that had spiraled completely beyond his control.Julia stood exactly where she had been standing moments bef

The atmosphere in the hall grew thicker, hotter, and more suffocating with every passing second. The air seemed to vibrate with tension, pressing down on everyone like an invisible weight. William's men, holding their belts like weapons of judgment, moved forward with slow, steady steps that echoed fear into every corner. Each footfall against the marble sounded like a countdown to reckoning. The Reynolds kept staggering backward as a family, huddled together in their expensive clothing now wrinkled and stained, pale and trembling like cornered animals.Elliot was the first to break under the pressure.His voice shook so violently it almost cracked. "Mr. Austin—wait! Please!" he yelled, stretching his hands out desperately as if he could push the danger away. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he continued moving backward with his family, nearly tripping over his own feet. "We're Julia's family!" he blurted out in pure desperation. "Please spare us for her sake… okay? Please?"Behin

The hall shifted into a thick, trembling silence — the kind where everyone held their breath and hoped the next sound wouldn’t be directed at them. People who were moments ago laughing, drinking, and scrambling for free gifts now stood frozen, staring at William Austin with a fear that ran deep. A fear that was well-earned.Whispers began bubbling like boiling water.“Austin… hmm!” a woman whispered to her friend, her voice shaky. “He’s the infamous underground tycoon from Rochester. He has businesses everywhere — nightclubs, security firms, even the ports. And I heard his men… they would die for him.”Bella’s breath caught in her throat. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Fear was written all over her like a confession stamped across her forehead. Her legs were trembling so badly she had to grip her dress to keep them still.“Don’t be fooled by his good looks,” another lady added from behind a pillar. “He’s Vicious with a capital V. I heard one person called him soft once and disapp

The hall remained tense, the air thick with everything that had already happened and everything the guests feared might still happen. Guests who earlier rushed for free wine and gifts were now frozen in place, gripping their seats or their children, unsure whether to look away or watch. Some hid behind their partners; others peeked from behind pillars. The Reynolds, once the centre of admiration, now stood exposed, shivering with fear and humiliation.Megan, desperate and trembling, pushed herself forward. Her hair was disheveled, her expensive earrings now uneven where they had shifted during the earlier scuffle. Facing William, she tried to gather what was left of her authority. “Young man, don’t get too full of yourself,” she said, trying to sound commanding. But her voice shook, and everyone could hear it. The arrogance she relied on had thinned into a weak, nervous tremor.Megan had spent years speaking to people like they were beneath her — waiters, drivers, employees, even

The hall had become a cage of whispers. Guests leaned in clusters, their voices low and urgent, passing impressions like a chain of small fires that threatened to spread. Someone near the back, a woman with a pearl necklace and a practiced smile, muttered, “I thought the Reynolds were classy.” Her voice carried a note of brittle surprise, as if a long-held belief had been nudged and found wanting.“Turns out they crashed someone else’s party,” a man replied under his breath, eyes fixed on the ruined sculpture and the fallen figures. The words spread faster than any announcement. “What a joke,” another woman added, a hiss of scorn threaded through the syllables. They had come expecting an elegant birthday celebration and instead were watching a family’s vanity disintegrate before their eyes. Bella’s friends gathered near her, lowered their voices but not their expressions. One of them — Haley, who earlier had been excited about the wines, whispered harshly, “Forget being shamed. T

Evelyn Brooks waited in the shadows of an abandoned stretch of the city where streetlights flickered without commitment and the air carried the smell of rust and neglect. She stood perfectly still, her black coat wrapped tightly around her frame, her posture rigid with fury that had not cooled since the news reached her. When Scorpion finally appeared, emerging cautiously from between two derelict buildings, she did not turn to greet him. She did not need to. She knew he was there.“You failed,” she said flatly, her voice cutting through the silence without emotion.Scorpion swallowed. He had rehearsed explanations on his way there, about timing, security, bad luck but the moment he heard her voice, every excuse felt useless. He tried anyway, mumbling something about the shot being obstructed, about the bodyguard moving unexpectedly.Evelyn turned then, slowly, her eyes cold and unblinking. “Don't insult my intelligence,” she said. “I paid you for certainty, not stories.”She stepp

Morning came with a calm that felt deliberate, almost rehearsed. Celine O’Neil stepped out of her car and adjusted her coat as she looked up at the modest but well-kept building housing Donovan & Co. It wasn’t as imposing as Brooks Enterprises’ headquarters, but it didn’t need to be. The stability of the place showed in its quiet efficiency, in the absence of panic or decay. This was the environment Mr. Donovan preferred, measured, controlled, and insulated from drama.Emilia walked beside her, tablet tucked under her arm, while Collins stayed a few steps behind, alert without being intrusive. Inside, they were ushered into Donovan’s office without delay.Mr. Donovan rose from behind his desk, his handshake firm but brief. His face carried the kind of restraint that revealed little, the look of a man who had learned to survive boardrooms by saying less than he knew.“Ms. O’Neil,” he said evenly. “Please, sit.”Celine thanked him and took her seat, wasting no time on pleasantries.

Celine sat in her study two full weeks after the assassination attempt, the scene still replaying in her mind.Those memories should have weakened her, but instead they forged something colder, stronger, almost unshakeable. The wound to Carter had hardened her resolve rather than broken it.She sat behind the wide mahogany desk, fingers brushing over neatly arranged documents, but her eyes remained distant until Emilia quietly entered the room holding a tablet and a notebook.“You asked for me, ma’am?” Emilia said.Celine looked up, the sharpness in her gaze softening slightly. “Sit, Emilia. We need to talk—clearly and without pretense.”Emilia obeyed, though she sensed something heavy coming.For a moment, Celine was silent, tapping a pen lightly against the desk. Then she leaned back.“I know you’ve suspected this already,” she began, her tone calm but direct, “but I want to state it plainly, I’m not just trying to destabilize Brooks Enterprises. I intend to take over the company c

The flashing hospital lights and the sharp smell of antiseptic did nothing to calm the storm raging inside Celine. The moment she arrived, she moved with a frantic, restless energy, her steps quick, her breaths uneven. She paced the hallway outside Carter’s room, unable to sit, unable to swallow the fear sitting heavy in her chest.Collins stood close, eyes sharp, shoulders tense, his entire posture coiled like a spring ready to strike. Emilia sat on one of the plastic chairs in the corridor, hands trembling around a cup of untouched water. Her eyes were red, her breathing shallow. The shock of the shooting held her in a silent daze.Every second stretched painfully.Every sound felt amplified, the distant beeping of machines, the squeak of nurses’ shoes, the murmur of doctors discussing patients. Celine gripped her own arms, trying to stay composed, but the memory of Carter’s blood soaking her hands kept replaying with brutal clarity.When the doctor finally emerged from the roo

Two days after the disastrous will-reading, the weather in the city had turned cold, but the chill inside the dimly lit bar on the outskirts of town came from something far darker than the air. The place smelled of cigarette smoke and old secrets. The lights were low, shadows clinging to the corners like silent witnesses.Evelyn Brooks sat at a secluded booth dressed in all black—a fitted blazer, gloves, and a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses she didn’t remove even indoors. To anyone watching, she looked like a woman in mourning. In reality, she was a woman plotting.Across from her sat a man known only in whispers. Scorpion. He was lean, sharp-eyed, and carried the type of tension that came from living on the wrong side of the law for too long. His fingers drummed quietly on the table as he scanned the bar repeatedly, never looking relaxed, always alert.He finally spoke. “You’re playing a dangerous game, madam. The woman you’re asking about… she is not small. She’s a big target.”

Alex’s breath grew harsher as the final words of the will echoed in his ears. The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls pressing closer, mocking him. His hands trembled, not with fear but with a rage that had been building for weeks. And then something inside him snapped.Before anyone could react, Alex slapped the stack of will papers out of Barrister Walters’ hands. The documents scattered across the marble floor like leaves tossed into a violent wind. The sharp sound jolted Melissa, and even Celine’s heartbeat kicked up.Barrister Walters stared at the mess in shock, frozen for only a moment before Alex grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him half out of his seat.“Alex!” Melissa gasped.Celine rose immediately, her voice cutting through the chaos. “STOP THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW!”Her tone carried a force that tore through the tension like a whip. Alex turned to her sharply. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A sad, broken, almost mocking laughter.“Why should I stop?” he as