Novels by Confi28

"How do I know?" He set the tablet aside. "Because I've been watching you for three years. Every move. Every struggle. Every desperate choice.""Why?" The question came out as a whisper."We'll get to that." He leaned back, his gray eyes never leaving my face. "First, let me tell you what I want.""What do you want?""Direct. I like that." The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "I want you to marry me."The words didn't make sense. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. "What?""Marriage. You've heard of it.""You're insane." I reached for the door handle. "I don't even know you."His hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop me. "You know enough. I'm rich. You're desperate. It's a perfect arrangement.""Let go of me."He released my wrist, but his eyes held me in place. "We're going to my penthouse. You'll hear my offer. Then you'll make a choice. But Aria.." He leaned closer. "Once we arrive, you don't leave until we have a

"So you'll take away his daughter's life instead?" Adrian shook his head. "How does that make you different from him?""I don't care about being different. I care about evening the scales."Adrian was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You know this won't bring David back.""No." I returned to my desk, picked up my phone. "But it will make me feel something other than empty."My eyes fell on the photo frame beside my computer. Young David, fourteen years old, grinning at the camera during our last family vacation. Alive. Happy. Before the medication his doctor prescribed destroyed his organs from the inside out.Beside David's photo was another, a surveillance shot from the club. Aria on stage, sequined top catching the lights, her face a mask of forced smiles."She looks like her mother," I said quietly. "Same eyes. Chen used to brag about his beautiful wife, his perfect daughters at company events. He'd show everyone pictures while my brother was dying because of documents he destroyed

The East District looked worse at night. Streetlights flickered, casting shadows that moved like living things. Broken glass crunched under my feet as I climbed off the bus, and somewhere nearby, a dog barked endlessly at nothing.Home sweet home.Mr. Kowalski was waiting in the lobby. Of course he was. He stood by the mailboxes with his arms crossed, his considerable belly straining against a stained undershirt. Mrs. Peterson from 2B lurked behind him, her face eager for drama. The Martinez family pretended not to watch from their doorway, but I could feel their eyes."Miss Chen." Kowalski's voice boomed through the cramped space. "We need to talk."I was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending, tired of holding myself together with duct tape and desperation."Mr. Kowalski, can this wait until..""Rent was due three days ago." He said it loud enough for everyone to hear. Shame was part of the game. "You're late. Again.""I know. I'm sorry. I had to take my sister to the hosp

The fluorescent lights in Saint Michael's Hospital corridors hummed with a sound that made my teeth ache. Everything here was too bright, too white, too sterile. Like if they scrubbed hard enough, they could wash away the reality of what happened within these walls.Dr. Martinez waited for me outside the elevator, her hands clasped in front of her white coat. I'd known her long enough to read her expressions. This one wasn't good."Miss Chen." She didn't smile. "Thank you for coming so quickly.""What's wrong?" My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Is Lila..""She's stable right now. But we need to talk." Dr. Martinez gestured toward a small consultation room. Through the window, I could see a box of tissues on the table. They always had tissues in the bad news rooms.I followed her inside, my legs moving on autopilot."Lila's autoimmune disease has progressed more rapidly than we anticipated." Dr. Martinez pulled up scans on her tablet, showing me images I didn't understand, organ

POV: Aria Chen"Move those hips, sweetheart! That's what we're paying for!"The voice cut through the pounding bass, and I forced my body to sway to the rhythm, ignoring the knot of disgust tightening in my stomach. The strobe lights made everything feel disjointed, flashes of leering faces, raised beer bottles, hands waving dollar bills like I was some kind of carnival prize.I wasn't a stripper. Not technically. The Velvet Room called us "entertainment dancers." We kept our clothes on, mostly. Sequined tops, short skirts, heels that made my feet scream after the first hour. It was supposed to be classier than the places down on Fifth Street.It wasn't. But it paid two hundred dollars a night, and that was exactly enough to cover Lila's medications for the week. So I smiled like my life depended on it, because in a way, it did and I danced."Come on, baby! Get closer!"Mr. Hendricks. Regular customer, always sat front and center, always too drunk by ten o'clock. His meaty hand reache