Novel-novel oleh King Emerald

SOPHIA It had been three months since I remembered everything.It didn’t come back in a rush. It came in fragments. The scent of cigarette smoke on Ricci’s coat. The sound of my laugh echoed against the kitchen tiles in our mansion. The feeling of his hand sliding over mine in the dark....I hated myself for not remembering sooner.When the final piece fell into place, it wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t steal my breath or send me into a breakdown. It was quiet. Like unlocking a room inside myself I’d boarded up out of fear.Ricci didn’t say anything when he saw it happen. He just looked at me, waiting.And I whispered, “I remember, Ricci.”He didn’t move. Just one tear rolled down his cheek. One. And then he pulled me into his arms like he’d been holding his breath for years.Now, we were here.A quiet countryside villa outside Florence. No bodyguards. No board meetings. No whispers of Sara or Project Lucifer. The media had moved on. And Ricci… he had started breathing again. So had I.Tha

RICCI The storm hadn’t stopped since.It was still roaring outside, the thunder rolling low like a warning from some angry god, but none of that mattered. Not when she collapsed into my arms like that. “Sophia?! Sophia—look at me, please. Look at me—!” Her name tore from my mouth.She wasn’t answering. Her face was pale, and her breath was very shallow. Her body went limp against mine, and for a second—I swear—I thought I was losing her again. I had almost started crying tbh.I carried her. I didn’t care that my boots tracked mud across the hardwood or the carpet. I didn’t care that I could barely see straight through the panic fogging my vision. I just needed her somewhere safe... somewhere quiet.I laid her gently on the couch. Her mother followed behind. She was asking questions I couldn’t answer. And that made me more angry.... frustrated....tired? All of them...or none of them? I didn't know....I didn’t know what the hell just happened. I didn’t care about explanations. All I c

SOPHIA I tossed a towel at him and rolled my eyes, biting back a smile.Twenty minutes later, he returned—fresh, damp curls, cotton shirt hugging his arms. He kissed the top of her head before sitting down at the small dining table, picking up his fork.The food was plated perfectly. As if he hadn't eaten for days…he hurriedly took one bite.He froze.Then looked up, chewing slowly. “You… this is illegal.”I smirked, sipping from the wine. “That’s the sauce I nearly ruined, by the way.”“Tastes like heaven. Or maybe I’m just drunk on you,” he said.“To fire hazards and foreplay.”She tilted her glass toward him. “To you,” he murmured. “And every damn moment like this.”“ Sophia" I heard my name the first time—barely. I didn’t answer.“Sophia?”This time it came louder. Right after a loud clap of thunder that made the window panes tremble. I blinked, suddenly aware of the room around me again. The dining room. The smell of sauce in the air and the faint scent of mom's perfume. My ha

RICCI The scent of garlic and seared butter curled through the air like an invitation. I stood by the stove, apron tied lazily around my waist, stirring the Alfredo sauce with one hand while swaying a little to the soft jazz spilling from the speaker on the counter. It was one of those evenings that felt almost too quiet. The kind where the city pulsed beyond the window, but inside this house—our house—there was only warmth, flickering light, and the sound of something soft simmering.I had just reached for the pepper grinder when I heard the front door click open.Then… footsteps.“Bambina,” came his voice. Deep….Slightly hoarse. And a little tired.I didn’t turn around. “You’re late.”“Blame the board,” he said, his footsteps drawing closer, “and a thirty-minute call about something they could’ve emailed.”I heard the soft thud of his briefcase hitting the entryway bench, followed by the loosening of his tie. My heart beat just a little faster—stupidly so. Even now. Even after all

SOPHIA It was quiet downstairs—too quiet, honestly. After a few days of being cooped up in my room like some fragile doll, I needed to feel something again. Movement perhaps….or maybe sound. I didn't really know. Even if it was just the hum of the refrigerator or the clinking of plates.We were back in New York now. And strangely, everything felt both familiar and distant, like a dream I kept dipping in and out of.But Mom was right—I was starting to remember things.Still, I won't deny it. I missed Mabel. A lot more than I expected to.Little flashes were coming back gradually. I remembered working for Mike to bring down someone whom I couldn't remember. I didn't know why Matilda helped me a lot in remembering Isabella, and I also remembered I loved dandelions. The way the living room light slanted in from the window around this hour. It didn’t always last, but it came in stronger waves these days.I wandered into the living room and paused near the side table. There was a photo fra

MABEL It had just been two days since Vivienne took Sophia back to New York.Two slow, dragging days.She said she had a company to oversee—some fashion thing or luxury firm or whatever rich people do when they’re not breaking hearts—and that Sophia being in the city might jog her memory. I didn’t argue, but Lord knows I wanted to.I didn’t want her to go.Not because I thought I knew best—no. But because that girl had curled herself into my home, into my routine, into my life. There was something tender about the way she folded laundry or stirred her tea or stared at the ceiling like she was searching for someone who never came.You don't watch a girl like that walk away and feel whole again.But what could I do? Say no to Vivienne Williams? That woman could put ice in a volcano and still walk out with her hair done.So now the apartment was quiet again. Not empty, but quieter in the saddest way. And here I was, on a Saturday, wiping down the same wooden table for the third time bec

SAMANTHA The room is quiet, painted in the soft gold of dawn. The curtains let in just enough light to touch everything gently, including Davon’s sleeping face. He lies on his back, one arm over his chest, the other resting beside him. The sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones look softer now, his lashes dark against his skin.For a moment, I just watch him. He looks calm, nothing like the intense, commanding man he becomes when he’s awake. But when my eyes drift lower, over the strong muscles of his chest, the ridges of his stomach, and finally the shape under the sheets, my breath catches. Warmth spreads through me, slow and deep.Carefully, I slip out from beneath the blanket, letting it fall around my waist. The cool air kisses my skin as I move closer. He doesn’t stir when I lean over and press a soft kiss to his chest. His skin is warm beneath my lips, and I trace a line downward, teasing lightly.“Sam…” His voice is rough and sleepy, low enough to make me shiver, but his eyes

SAMANTHA I let out a soft whimper, my head falling against his shoulder as Davon lowers us onto the bed. The moment feels electric, the air thick with anticipation, our hearts beating in synchronicity as though the world around us fades. His body stays pressed against mine, every inch igniting a spark, sending warmth coursing through me. As I tighten my legs around his waist, I can feel the slow, steady rhythm of his movements, each one deliberate and unhurried, like he’s savoring every detail of me.“You feel that?” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “How perfectly you fit with me? It’s like we were made for this, made for each other.” “Yes,” I breathe, my voice catching in my throat as the tension coils tighter within me, a pulsating energy building with his every thrust. “Davon, I—”“Say it,” he interrupts gently but with an unmistakable strength in his tone, the commanding undertone wrapping around my senses. “Say you’re mine.”“I’m you

SAMANTHA His hands are everywhere, rough and warm and certain as he pulls me up from the bed, his mouth finding mine with an urgency that steals my breath. The kiss is wild, desperate, full of heat and longing, his teeth brushing my bottom lip before his tongue claims me, deep and demanding. I can hardly breathe before he turns me around, pressing my back against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.The contrast makes me shiver, the cold glass against my skin, his body burning against mine. He moves closer until there’s no space left between us, his hands gripping my thighs as he lifts me with ease. My legs wrap around his waist, and I can feel him, every heartbeat, every breath, every ounce of restrained hunger.“You remember this?” he murmurs, his voice rough against my ear. “The first time I touched you like this? The way you asked for more?”“Yes,” I whisper, my fingers clutching his shoulders as he presses against me, teasing me until I can barely stand it. “Davon, ple

DAVON “Not yet,” I say, my eyes scanning the wreckage around us. “We send a message. Every Griss loyalist left alive will understand what happens when they come for my family.”Brad nods, his expression dark and resolute. “Consider it done.”I turn, and there she is. Samantha, standing in the doorway. Her face is pale but steady, her eyes meeting mine without fear. For a moment, everything else fades—the smoke, the shouting, the blood. It’s just her.She steps forward, holding her chin high. “What now?”“Now,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her close, “we rebuild.”Her gaze searches mine, soft but determined. “Together?”“Always,” I promise, and the words feel like a vow that reaches deeper than the chaos we’ve survived.Samantha stands beside me as we face our men. Her hand is warm in mine, her presence strong and calm. She’s no longer just my wife. She’s the Rancho queen.The silence after war feels heavier than the noise of battle. Bodies cover the estate grounds, both Griss a

DAVON Brad meets me at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the mansion. His shirt is streaked with blood, but he’s still standing, still fighting. That’s why he’s my second.“They came through the south perimeter first,” he shouts over the sound of bullets hitting metal. “The Griss family isn’t holding back this time. They’re going for a full takeover.”“Or total extinction,” I growl, loading my weapon. The sharp click of the chamber sliding into place sounds like a warning from hell itself.Brad’s face is tight with tension. “They’re targeting you, Davon. You and the kid.”My grip on the gun tightens. The thought burns through me. They want my son dead. My family erased.“Not tonight,” I say, pushing past him and charging into the chaos.The front grounds look like a war zone. Smoke and sparks fill the air, and the sound of gunfire is deafening. My men shout commands and return fire from behind broken pillars and burned-out cars. Every flash of light cuts through the darkness, an

DAVON The call ends with Brad shouting orders to someone in the background. His voice is rough and urgent.“Davon, it’s bad. The Griss family isn’t holding back this time. You need to get here now.”I slip my phone into my pocket and turn to Samantha. She’s already standing, her face pale but steady, her hands trembling just enough to show the fear she’s trying to hide.“You’re staying here,” I say firmly, pointing toward the room. “This isn’t your fight.”Her jaw tightens, a flash of anger and determination burning in her eyes. “I’m your wife, Davon. Your fight is mine too.”I take a step closer, my chest tight with frustration. “Samantha, this isn’t about pride. It’s about survival. Leo needs you alive.”She squares her shoulders, her voice calm but fierce. “Leo needs both of us alive. And you’re not going without me.”For a moment, I can’t speak. Her words hit harder than any bullet could. She means every word, and I know her well enough to see there’s no changing her mind. My eye