Novels by Joe Michael

A Mother’s CrownThe dawn of graduation day came with a trembling beauty. Gold light spilled around the campus, dew glittered like diamonds on the grass, and bells rang in the chapel tower as though announcing the birth of a new chapter.But for Henry, the day wasn’t about his gown or the speeches of men who loved him. It wasn’t about the Alpha, the CEO, the Principal, or even the whispers of the town. It was about the woman who sat in the dormitory window with her hands folded, watching the sunrise as though it belonged only to her.His mother, Evelyn.The woman who had walked with him through exile, who had bent but never broken, who had turned silence into sanctuary.Henry had been asked—almost begged—to prepare a speech for the ceremony. The student body wanted it, the teachers wanted it, even the suitors wanted it. But Henry didn’t want to speak about himself. He wanted to speak about her.And so, on the morning of the most important day of his life, Henry sat at his desk with a

Be an Exile in HumansThe eve of graduation now hung heavy, not with celebration alone but with a strange quietness that seemed to settle across the whole school ground. In a dorm room lit only by a desk lamp, a boy sat with trembling hands gripping a pen.His name was Michael Anders, not the most popular of students, not the wealthiest, not even the boldest. He had been chosen—by vote of his classmates—to deliver one of the student speeches at graduation. It was an honor usually given to those who embodied pride and success, but Michael had begged for it, pleaded until the committee relented.He had one reason for wanting this chance: Henry.Henry, the exile's boy who had carried dignity on his shoulders when others mocked him. Henry, who never lashed out, never returned evil with cruelty. Henry, whose silence was louder than the boasts of princes and heirs.Michael had been among those who once sneered at Henry. He remembered the whispers, the laughter, the cruel little games. But

The school was quiet.The halls, usually alive with chatter, stood hushed under the light of evening. Graduation banners hung proudly across the rafters of the auditorium, the stage already prepared with polished wood and gleaming microphones. The podium waited, empty, as though daring the future to begin.Principal Adrian sat at his desk, a single lamp casting its circle of light over papers and drafts. He had read through them a dozen times already, but still the words did not feel complete.Speeches were not new to him. Over the years, he had stood before countless classes, congratulating them, sending them into the world with words of wisdom. He had memorized quotes from philosophers, stitched together advice from poets, and wrapped it all in stories of resilience.But this speech was different.This year’s ceremony was not just about students leaving. It was about Henry.Adrian set down his pen and rubbed his temples. He could feel the other two men circling already—the Alpha wit

The tower loomed in the midnight, its glass edges catching the light of the city like a crown of fire. Inside, Damien Dowell sat in his office, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the metropolis that bent to his will.His assistants had left hours ago, contracts tucked away, markets humming along their charts. Silence now ruled the top floor—except for the scratch of Damien’s pen across paper.Tomorrow was not just another date on the calendar. Tomorrow, Blackwood Academy would hold its graduation, and he would stand before students, teachers, and townsfolk alike. But more importantly, Henry would be there.Damien had given speeches before—countless ones. He had spoken at shareholder meetings, at international summits, at charity galas where every word was calculated to move markets or bend alliances. But this speech was different. It was not merely a performance; it was an offering.Wealth. Love. Those would be his pillars.He wanted Henry to hear him, not just with his ears, but wi

The Blackwood Academy grounds were teased, as though the whole world was holding its breath. Tomorrow would bring the graduation ceremony—the final rite of passage for the senior class, and for Henry, the culmination of years spent under exile, and whispers.Yet beyond the freshly decorated hall stood Elias, the newly restored Alpha, hunched over a desk in his quarters. His council had retired for the night, his warriors stationed beyond the walls. The weight of his title sat upon his shoulders—but tonight, he was not preparing to speak as Alpha. Tonight, he was preparing to speak as a man in love.He ran his hands through his hair and stared at the parchment before him. Dozens of drafts scattered around the table, testimony to hours of restless struggle. He was a leader, a warrior, a commander of men—but when it came to Henry, words seemed too fragile.“Long lost love,” he murmured to himself, repeating the phrase he had whispered a hundred times. It was more than a theme. It was the

The countdown had begun.Graduation.Posters were hung across the corridors of Blackwood Academy, glittering with BOLD LETTERS. Students moved with an energy that buzzed like static—half relief, half anticipation. In classrooms, seniors scribbled farewell notes into each other’s yearbooks. In the gymnasium, rehearsals for the ceremony ran late into the evenings. The school orchestra tuned their instruments, the debate team planned a final speech, the head of academics ensured every robe was pressed and perfect.The big day was just a week away, but to most, it felt like tomorrow.Yet amid the planning and preparations, all eyes, whether or in secret, kept drifting towards the same figure.Henry.The exile’s son.He walked the halls with his usual grace on, a satchel over his shoulder, books clutched in his hands. He never asked for attention. He never sought it. But attention found him regardless. Some whispered behind his back. Others simply watched, trying to decipher how he had end

The news broke within the walls of Richard’s Tech Enterprises not with an announcement, but with a void. Daniel Reyes’s absence was as loud as any scandal or betrayal. His desk sat empty that morning, the surface stripped of the personal touches that had crept in over the months—a framed photo of his sister, a stacked set of notes he always kept within reach, the mug he used religiously.Gone.Just like that, the steady hand that had held the company together during Ethan Richard’s stormiest weeks had vanished, leaving behind a silence that hummed through the corridors.The board members, those sharp-eyed men and women who smelled blood in every hesitation, wasted no time. They gathered in the executive conference room, their whispers slicing through the glass walls like knives.“Resigned without notice?” one muttered.“Or forced out,” another countered, lips curling with satisfaction.“It’s no coincidence. The scandal, the whispers, the way Ethan’s been off his game—he had to cut him

The Breaking PointThe pressure inside Richard’s Tech Enterprises was no longer whispers—it was a roar. Board members were calling emergency meetings. Investors were demanding statements. Share prices dipped in cautious tremors, as if the market itself could smell blood in the water.And at the center of it all was Ethan, cold-faced at the head of the table, even as every nerve in his body threatened to snap.“Mr. Richard,” one of the senior board member called, during the Friday session, “this situation has gone unchecked for too long. The press, the rumors, the lack of visibility. Our CEO hasn’t stood before the cameras in weeks, and yet his assistant…” he let the word drag like poison, “…appears to be the one keeping the company afloat.”A ripple of agreement moved around the table. Ethan’s jaw tightened.“Are you suggesting that Daniel Reyes is the problem here?” “I’m suggesting perception is the problem. Your relationship with Mr. Reyes has blurred lines. Investors are uneasy. T

The Cost of LoveThe next morning, Ethan Richard sat at the edge of his bed, tie loosened, jacket discarded on the floor, glass of untouched bourbon sweating on the nightstand.For years, silence had been his comfort. A weapon, even. In the boardroom, silence could crush a weak executive faster than words. At home, silence reminded him that no one could touch him, no one could intrude on the fortress he had built around himself.But tonight, silence suffocated.He couldn’t stop seeing Daniel’s face.Daniel—walking into the office with his usual calm. Daniel—unshaken by scandal, holding the company still while Ethan hid. Daniel—standing in front of him that night, eyes open when Ethan whispered the words he had never thought he’d say to anyone: I love you.The pleasure of it was too much. Too dangerous. Every time Daniel smiled at him, every time his hand brushed against Ethan’s as they passed papers, every time he looked at him with that loyalty—it threatened to undo him completely.A

Alex had always prided himself on seeing through people. Investors, executives, rivals—they were all glass to him, transparent and predictable. Their weaknesses were levers, their ambitions strings he could pull. It was why he had survived so long in Richard’s Tech despite Ethan Richard’s cold and suffocating presence.But Daniel Reyes was different.Daniel had entered the company, almost invisible, just another assistant in a sea of faces. Alex hadn’t cared about him at first. Then he noticed how often Ethan called Daniel into his office, how the CEO’s features weak in his presence, how Daniel’s storms that usually rattled even the most seasoned executives.The more Alex watched, the more fascinated he became. Daniel wasn’t ambitious in the way most men were. He didn’t bite for power. Instead, power bent towards him, almost unconsciously. People trusted him. Ethan relied on him. And Alex… Alex found himself craving him too.At first, it was curiosity. Then admiration. Then something

The city's newspapers still carried the photo of Ethan Richard and his assistant. Radio hosts dissected it with amusement, and the internet churned endlessly, devouring the story in a thousand comment threads.But Daniel Reyes walked into Richard’s Tech Enterprises everyday as though nothing had happened.He moved through the doors with his usual calm, ignoring the flashing cameras outside, ignoring the whispers that followed him through the lobby. His suit was pressed as usual, his tie knotted perfectly, his expression cool. If the scandal gnawed at him, if the weight of headlines threatened to crush him, he didn’t let it show.Daniel had lived with whispers before. He had been the subject of speculation, of jealousy, of rumors he couldn’t control. This wasn’t new. The difference now was scale. Instead of a handful of coworkers or a circle of acquaintances, the entire city seemed to know his name.But Daniel had made a decision. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him br

Fractures Before GenevaThe city never really slept, but for Ethan, the lights outside his windows had become cruel reminders of his failures. Nights bled into mornings with little rest; every hour was stolen by headlines, phone calls, damage control meetings, and whispers that refused to die.Just days. That was all he had. Days before Geneva. Days before the summit that could either cement Richard’s Tech as an unshakable giant or topple everything he had built. And yet, he couldn’t focus on Geneva. Not while Alex’s scheme poisoned every corner of his life.Everywhere he turned, the scandal stalked him.That morning, as he opened the door to leave for the office, a swarm of photographers and reporters blocked his path. Microphones thrust forward like daggers, cameras flashing.“Mr. Richard, is it true your assistant was promoted because of your relationship?”“Is Daniel Reyes still employed at Richard’s Tech?”“Will you be resigning before Geneva?”He forced his way past them, his ex

EpilogueThe Boss's Shop looked nothing like it did when Rico had first walked into its veins, trembling and naïve. Then, the streets had hissed with danger. Sirens had been swallowed by laughter in the alleys, blood had dried on stone before the morning sun could even glance at it. Now, there was peace—or something resembling it.The newspapers carried different headlines. Instead of death counts or whispers of vendettas, they wrote of “Rebirth.” Instead of warnings about underworld reign, they celebrated the return of “Balance.” Markets thrived, cafés stretched their chairs into the streets, and children once again played football under the shadows of glass buildings.Yet inside the fabric of order, silence hummed with another kind of truth: the Boss had won.The public didn’t speak his name anymore—not loudly. But everyone knew whose hand was woven into the system, whose smile hung over the new peace like an unseen guardian. The Boss had defeated rivals, bent laws, charmed official

The city, once strangled by headlines, and endless trials, seemed to be at peace now for the first time in years. The arrests of Kross and Marquez had rippled across every neighborhood and every back alley. Their sentencing—the death penalty—was not only justice delivered but also a warning to anyone who thought themselves untouchable. For decades, those two names had inspired terror. Now, they inspired only silence and fear of a past that people wanted to bury.And in the space left behind, order began to reassert itself.The Boss had won.Not by blood alone, nor by secrecy, but by a mixture of influence, wealth, and uncanny foresight. He had invited the right inspectors, courted the right judges, and made the law itself bend towards his narrative. When Rico’s restructured interview confirmed him as a benevolent figure, as someone who “helped the city where others only destroyed it,” the shift was complete. The underworld no longer operated in shadows; it operated with a strange vene

Chains of ObsessionThe next morning, the reporters gathered in the Boss's mansion like vultures at the end of the walkway, cameras flashing, microphones thrust forward. Guards flanked Rico, guiding him past the gauntlet. Their boots struck rhythm against the concrete as though to remind him that freedom wasn’t free—it was borrowed, it was bartered.“Rico! Rico!” voices called.“What do you have to say about justice finally being served?”“Do you regret testifying against Kross and Marquez?”“Do you consider yourself a hero or a traitor?”Rico’s lips parted, but no words came. He had rehearsed speeches in the quiet of his cell—lines about truth, survival and resilience. Yet under the relentless strobe of flashbulbs, everything shriveled. He felt exposed.But then a familiar car pulled up. Black tinted windows glinting like obsidian. The crowd hushed for a moment. They knew whose car it was.The Boss.The door swung open and for the first time, the boss stepped out, his smiling face c

The Boss WonThe next morning, the city was drowning in shadows, gossip, and divided emotions. The news had broken like thunder overnight—Kroos and Marquez were sentenced to death. Rico was set free. And the Boss, the phantom everyone once feared, had emerged not as a villain but as a victor.The reactions came like waves crashing against one another—some furious, some relieved, others simply stunned into silence.On the crowded sidewalks, whispers became shouts. Newspapers sold out within hours, headlines screaming:"CITY CLEANSED: MARQUEZ AND KROOS FACE THE END.""THE BOSS—SAVIOR OR SINNER?""RICO TO WALK FREE."At a bakery in the south district, a group of workers gathered around a radio, flour still dusting their aprons. The announcer’s voice carried through static:> “The trial has ended. Kroos, once painted as a victim, unmasked as an accomplice, has been sentenced alongside Salvatore Marquez. Execution date to be confirmed. Meanwhile, Rico… released. And in an unprecedented mo

Love was a dangerous word in the world Rico had been forced to live in. It had been a weapon, a weakness, a manipulation — and yet, it was also the one truth that kept piercing through layers of lies. And now, in the aftermath of the chaos, whispers of love were reshaping the power balance between the Boss, the police, and Rico himself.The police station was different that week. The hallways were tensed with pressure, like walls pressing inward. Officers, who once paraded Rico as a broken trophy in front of flashing cameras, now moved when his name was mentioned. Their words were guarded, as though they feared unseen ears. The Boss’s influence was no longer a rumor — it was a shadow stretching across desks, reports, and even the lips of the inspectors themselves.But what shocked many wasn’t just his money. It was the whisper passed from officer to officer: the Boss so much loves Rico.Not just ownership, not just convenience — real affection, he's madly in love with Rico from his ti

Money Talks, Truth WalksThe studio lights were blinding.Rico sat in front of the camera again, but this time, he was not the same trembling, broken man who had once spat fire and confessed the underworld’s darkest truths. His face was powdered, his hair combed neatly, his clothes pressed as if he were preparing for a ceremony rather than a trial of conscience.Behind him, the logo of the city’s most prestigious television network glowed on the wall like an authority. The station’s director, a man whose pockets were heavier with bribes than with integrity, stood smiling, while two government officials whispered instructions to the producer.Money had changed the air in the room. Money had twisted reality into a script. Money had turned the man who was once a victim into a witness of convenience.The Boss had done it once again.He hadn’t lifted a gun, hadn’t threatened a soul. Instead, he opened his vault, spilled enough gold across the desks of politicians, judges, and media mogul