Novel-novel oleh Eliora Matt

Williams stood in front of the door, his hand hovering mid-air as he breathed in and out, trying to steady himself. He hadn’t even knocked yet when the door flung open. “Brother!” Paula stood there, a baby in her arms and joy on her face. “I could hug you right now but..” “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Williams gave her a gentle side hug anyway, careful not to disturb the baby. “Mom didn’t tell me you’d be coming over. What is this? Some surprise family reunion?” He stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket and slinging it lazily over the back of a chair.“Maybe,” Paula said with a grin. “She’s in the kitchen. Let me go let her know you’re here.” She rushed off down the hallway, her voice fading as she disappeared into the house. The family house was small but filled with so much security on the outside. If it detects anyone that’s not family, the alarm goes off and directly calls the private cops his dad has.Williams didn’t ask about Dad. He never did. The man was a walking fortress of tight

~Williams~The city hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same thing that happens every day. One can say it’s a boring life to live. Which they aren’t lying about.Williams stood on the private balcony of his penthouse suite, one hand curled loosely around the edge of the steel rail. From this height, everything below looked manageable. Predictable. Small. But he knew better.He believed life was about control. He didn’t care for the chaotic optimism people dressed up as ambition. He didn’t trust the fragile highs of love, fame, or beauty, none of it lasted. What did last, however, was power. The kind no one sees until it’s already shaped their life. He hadn’t always thought this way. But that was before. His father was always talking about how to lead and be on your own, trusting nobody but learning to work with anybody. His father was two-faced, one for cameras and the other for anyone he’s dealing with. Sometimes he wonders how his mum fell for his dad and why she stood by him. If it wa

Kyle slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against his back, and shut the door quietly. The garage was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the dashboard as he turned the key. The engine rumbled to life, its sound low and steady, echoing slightly. He shifted into reverse, the gear clicking into place. With one hand on the wheel and the other draped over the passenger seat, he turned to glance over his shoulder. The car began to move slowly backward.He eased the car out with practiced control, tires rolling gently over the concrete. Once he cleared the garage, he straightened the wheel, shifted into drive, and pulled away into the cool night air slipping through the window.“Don’t walk. Run!” he rolled his eyes as he heard the voice again. Fucking rich people. He darted his eyes to the center console, saw a book, but it was the name who caught his eyes. Williams Thorne. Williams. Thorne. Those names. Kyle’s breath began to pace so fast that a memory flashed before his eyes.“Stay

Kyle hated night shifts. On days like this, he wakes up past noon. Not because he wanted to, but because the sun leaked through the torn blinds of his single room apartment and made sleep impossible. He sat up slowly,shaking off the fragments of dreams he never remembered. He had to freshen up. The air in his small apartment hung with the scent of instant coffee and old books. His mornings were sacred, quiet hours. He spent them walking through the city’s back alleys with his headphones on, sometimes sketching in the notebook he kept hidden beneath a stack of apartment receipts.Kyle wasn’t chasing anything tangible during the day, just quiet. Peace. A place where no one asked too many questions. He pulled up his jacket and just as he’s about to step out, his phone rang. Finn. He slides to the right. “Hey man” “Yo, I’m stealing you today, Square Times. Don’t argue..” Kyle’s lip twitched. Finn had always been the relentless kind, sunshine wrapped in designer boots and charm. He was ev

The alarm goes off around 5:00am, loud and shrill. Kyle knocked it off with a groan and stared at the cracked ceiling above him. Noise coming from the fan above doing little to stir the heavy air in the room.Another Day.He sat up slowly, the old mattress groaning beneath him. His room, if it could be called that, was the size of a rich man’s wardrobe. One narrow bed, a rusted fan, Walls painted a dull-peeling-grey. In the corner, a half broken dresser and a cracked mirror barely clung to the walls.Kyle dragged himself to the sink in the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. Sharp and real. His eyes found the broken mirror. Still the same man but a different surname, Kyle Brooklyn instead of Kyle Rutherford, mixed skin, curly black hair that needs a trim, Brown eyes heavy with something more than sleep. The ghost of who he used to be, clung to his reflection. The boy who once had a future. A family. A name that meant something.He walked back into his room. On his cupboard, sit