Novels by O.Fola

The house smelled of fresh paint and pinewood, the kind of smell that promised beginnings. Light poured through the wide kitchen windows, spilling across the hardwood floors where Nova and her sister, her twin were chasing each other in circles, laughter bouncing off the walls like bells.It had only been three weeks since the courtroom, two weeks since Charleston, but it felt like an entire lifetime had shifted.We had chosen this place deliberately, not too big, not too close to the city, quiet enough that nights were filled with crickets instead of sirens. A home that was ours, not stained by Vivienne’s shadow.I leaned against the counter, coffee mug warm in my hands, watching the twins collapse into a heap of giggles on the rug. They were different, but they were whole together Nova, bold and mischievous with her sister, thoughtful, always watching first before jumping in. Two halves of a story Vivienne had tried to steal from us, now knit back together in the most ordinary, extr

The courthouse was still echoing in my ears, the gavel’s slam sealing Vivienne and Catherine’s fate. Life sentences, no parole, and no more shadow games. The air outside tasted cleaner than it had in months, but even as I stood there clutching Noah’s hand, I couldn’t shake the hollow ache inside.One child in my arms, the other still missing.Nova rested her cheek against my shoulder, thumb tucked in her mouth, blissfully unaware of the storm that had finally broken. I brushed her hair back, my stomach twisting. Catherine’s venomous words haunted me from the courtroom hallway: “You’ll never find her. She’s mine, not yours.”But she was wrong, she had to be.Detective Alvarez caught up with us before we reached the car, her folder pressed to her chest like something fragile. “We found something,” she said quietly, her eyes cutting toward Nova. “Can we talk inside?”Noah stiffened beside me, his grip on my hand tightening. I nodded, and we followed her back into one of the side offices,

The courthouse lobby was colder than I expected, all stone and steel, the kind of place designed to strip you of warmth the moment you stepped inside. My arms tightened around Nova as though my body alone could shield her from everything, the draft in the air, the stares that followed us, and the weight of what we were walking into.Noah was beside me, his hand on the small of my back. The pressure was steady, protective. He hadn’t said much since the raid on the warehouse, but he didn’t have to. Every bruise on his jaw, every shallow breath that caught in his ribs, was its own language. He was hurting, and still, he was the one holding me up.Desmond should have been here too. The ache of his absence pressed against me like a second skin. The last look he’d given me, the rasp of his voice when he’d shoved me toward safety, haunted the silence between Noah and me. He had chosen to stay behind so we could run. And now the world had shrunk to this, a courthouse, a city that suddenly fel

The warehouse was a hollow shell behind us, buzzing with uniforms and floodlights. Vivienne’s shrieks still rang in my ears, sharp even as the car doors slammed shut on her arrest. Catherine had gone quieter, her sobbing turning to hysterical laughter until the officers forced her into another cruiser and then there was silence.Real silence.I sat on the curb outside, Nova curled in my lap, her tiny fists clutching at my shirt. My body shook so violently I thought for a moment I might drop her, but I didn’t. I buried my face in her soft hair, breathing in her scent, letting it ground me.Across from me, Noah was bandaged, his shirt torn away where paramedics had wrapped his shoulder. His jaw was clenched tight, but his eyes never left me for once.“You’re bleeding,” I whispered, though my own arms were streaked in scratches and blood.He gave me that crooked half-smile battered, and stubborn. “You should see the other guy.”It was almost enough to make me laugh.Desmond’s name sat he

The sirens were close now, their wails slicing through the smoke and the crackle of fire. Red and blue strobes flickered faintly against the haze at the edge of the horizon. Vivienne’s head whipped toward the sound, her jaw tightening, her face twisting into something feral.“No,” she hissed, spitting the word like venom. “You think sirens will save you? You think the law is stronger than me?”Her voice rose, shrill, echoing across the dirt lot. “I built this family. I buried its secrets. I decide who lives and who rots!”I held Nova tighter, her small face buried against my neck. My heart hammered, but I forced my voice steady. “It’s over, Vivienne. You can’t outrun what you’ve done.”Vivienne’s laugh broke the air high, brittle, and dangerous. “You naive little girl. You think this is about outrunning?” She snapped her gaze to Catherine, who stood just behind her, eyes flicking nervously between the gun on the ground and the rising blaze. “Catherine now.”And just like that, Catheri

The night swallowed us whole the second the warehouse door slammed behind us. Cold air slapped my face, carrying the stench of oil and rust. My lungs burned, my legs barely remembered how to move, but Noah’s grip on my wrist was iron, dragging me forward, step after step. Nova whimpered against my chest, her tiny body trembling like she could sense what we’d left behind.Desmond.His name burned in my mind, every step away from him was an act of betrayal. I couldn’t erase the sound of his voice — Go! — or the gunfire tearing through the walls as his body shielded us. My chest cracked open with the weight of it, but Noah’s low, guttural command cut through.“Don’t look back, Grace. He wanted this, we keep moving.”The gravel lot stretched wide and dark before us, broken glass crunching under our feet. My sneakers slipped on oil stains, my arms ached from clutching Nova so tight, but there was no time to falter. Then the headlights flared.Twin beams cut through the dark, blinding, swee

Four years. That was how long it had been since I last saw Ryan Hale. Four years since prom night, since the kiss that tasted like forever, since the heartbreak that tasted like blood in my mouth. Now I am dragging my suitcase into a house that doesn’t feel like mine. New town, new walls, new life. And apparently, a new stepmother. I stop at the bottom of the staircase, watching a woman glide down like she owned the place. Perfectly styled hair, diamonds glinting at her neck, smile wide enough to hide secrets. “Who even is this woman?” I mutter under my breath before shooting a look at Dad. Dad smiles like I’d asked what time it was. “She’s kind, Evan. And… very rich. Rich, of course. That explains the marble tiles and gold-framed mirror in the hall. He steps forward, puffing his chest like a teenager. “We… we actually met before we moved four years ago.” My mind betrays me with a flashback. His lips pressed to mine in the shadow of the prom corridor, his hands steady as he s

Ryan’s POVI wake up slowly, the fluorescent lights stabbing my eyes. My head pounds, my body aches, and when I lift a hand to the back of my skull, I feel sticky blood. Pain shoots through me with every movement. I try to sit up, but the room spins, and my muscles scream in protest.The fight in the elevator comes back to me, the punches, Mason’s laughter, the way Evan’s face fell when Mason told him everything. My chest tightens just thinking about it. I hear faint sobbing somewhere down the hall. My heart jumps, that’s Evan.I force myself to push up, hands shaking on the cold floor. My vision blurs, the room tilts, but I crawl toward the bathroom door. I stumble out into the chaos of the hotel room. Pillows and clothes are scattered everywhere, the smell of cologne and something else lingering in the air. I grab my phone, fumbling to unlock it. My thumb hovers over Evan’s name, desperate.“Please… be okay,” I whisper.I call. The line rings, each second stretching into eternity th

Evan POVI clutch the broken hotel card in my hand, pressing the pieces together as if I can somehow mend the night. My fingers shake, heart hammering against my ribs. I refuse to believe Mason lies. I refuse to let him ruin what Ryan and I promised. I swallow hard and take a shaky breath, staring down the dimly lit corridor, listening for any sign, any sound from him then I hear it.A sound that freezes my blood.A moan, soft at first, then sharper, more deliberate. “Ohhh… ohhh… Ryan, take it easy on me… Hmmm, that was so good babe.”My hands clutch the card so hard that it bends. My pulse spikes. What the hell?I sprint toward the room, fumbling with the keycard as panic drives me forward. My fingers shake as I insert it, twisting the handle and flinging the door open.And there he is, Mason Carter half-naked on the bed, lounging like he owns the world. My stomach flips, bile rising. My mind freezes.“What the hell?” I blurt, my voice trembling. “Where is Ryan?”Mason laughs, low an

Ryan’s POVI adjust the cuff of my tux one last time and take a deep breath, feeling the leather of my shoes on the polished floor. The hotel key card is no longer in my pocket. I pressed it into Evan’s hand just minutes ago, a promise, a lifeline, proof that tonight is ours better than any night before.God. The look on his face when he said yes. Wide-eyed, nervous, trusting… it nearly breaks me on the spot. Evan Brooks isn’t just my boyfriend. He’s my sanity, my anchor, the one reason I survived senior year without completely losing my mind. And tonight—tonight is supposed to seal everything we’ve ever whispered in the dark, every secret we’ve tucked between us.I murmur the room number under my breath. “Room 312.” The numbers echo in the corridor, small and intimate. I press the elevator button. My reflection stares back at me in the mirrored wall, tousled blond hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes still blazing from the kiss we just shared. I look like a guy standing on the edge of hap

Evan’s POVThe ballroom glows under warm golden lights, bouncing off sequined gowns and sharply tailored tuxedos. Every hairpin, bracelet, and cufflink seems to catch fire, turning the room into a glittering galaxy. The DJ’s playlist flips from the newest hits to familiar throwbacks, sending a steady pulse through the air. My heart pounds in time with it, my toes tap before I even realize, and my nerves coil tighter with every bass beat. For most seniors at Brookview High, prom is a night to escape the pressures of college applications, grades, and expectations fading into the music. For me, Evan Brooks, tonight shrinks to a single focus: the boy holding me.Ryan Hale.His hands settle low on my back, steady, firm, yet warm. We move together in sync with the crowd, pressed close enough that I feel every subtle shift of his weight, every inhale and exhale. My palms rest on the broad planes of his shoulders, fingertips grazing the smooth fabric of his jacket. The warmth radiating from h