Novel-novel oleh Nita Vale

Elena Elena’s phone vibrated against her nightstand at seven in the morning. She grabbed it without looking, her brain still foggy from sleep and the lingering effects of last night’s pill. Harper’s name flashed on the screen. “Hello?” “Elena.” Harper’s voice sounded wrong. Rough and thin like someone had scraped it raw. “I’m sorry to call so early but I…I need help.” Elena sat up fast, her heart kicking into overdrive. “What’s wrong?” “I’m sick. Really sick. I can’t get out of bed and my roommate went home for the weekend and I don’t know who else to call.” Harper’s breath hitched. “I’m burning up and everything hurts and I’m scared.” “I’m coming right now. Don’t move.” “Thank you. God, thank you.” Elena hung up and threw off her covers. Her hands were already reaching for clothes before her brain fully processed what she was doing. Jeans, sweater, shoes. She grabbed her bag and shoved random things inside water bottle, her phone charger, some granola bars from he

Elena Elena’s legs barely carried her back to her room. She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving like she’d run a marathon. Her hands were still shaking, fingers numb and cold despite the heat crawling under her skin. Yes. That single word kept echoing in her skull. Her wolf was rising. Everything she’d been feeling, every nightmare that ripped her from sleep, every headache that split her open, every burst of rage that came from nowhere it was all real. Elena pushed off the door and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Her fingers fumbled over the screen as she pulled up her dad’s number. Hit call. Pressed the phone to her ear so hard it hurt. It rang. And rang. And rang. “You’ve reached Miguel Cruz. Leave a message.” “Dad.” Her voice cracked. “Dad, I need you to call me back. I need to talk to you about the pills. About what’s happening to me. Please just call me back.” She hung up. Stared at the screen. Called her mom. Same thing.

Elena She grabbed the pills off the desk and walked towards Dr. Hale’s office to confront him about the article. She wanted to hear from him and just maybe he will have an explanation to it. Elena didn’t knock. She slammed Dr. Alex’s study door open hard enough that it hit the wall. He looked up from his desk, papers spread in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose. She crossed the room in four strides and dropped the pill bottle on his desk. It rattled against the wood, pills scattering across his paperwork. “What are these really for?” Dr. Alex set down his pen slowly. Took off his glasses. “Elena, what are you talking about?” “Don’t.” Her voice shook. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking.” He stood up, his chair scraping back. “You’re upset. Let’s talk about this calmly.” “I found the journal article.” Elena pulled the folded pages from her back pocket and slammed them down next to the pills. “In the library. Hidden behind your m

ElenaElena woke up to bacon. Not the faint smell of breakfast cooking somewhere downstairs. The actual scent of pork fat hitting a hot pan, salt crystalizing on meat, smoke curling up from the stove. She could smell it like someone was holding the pan directly under her nose.Her eyes snapped open. Her head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. She pressed her palms against her temples and tried to breathe through the pain but that made it worse because she could smell everything. The detergent Mrs. Parker used on the sheets. The wood polish on the furniture. Her own sweat soaked into her pillow.She sat up too fast and her stomach lurched.The nightstand came into focus and her eyes drifted to the pill bottle which sat there where it always did, two white tablets already laid out on a napkin beside it. Dr. Alex must have come in while she was sleeping. The thought of him standing over her bed watching her sleep should have creeped her out but instead something warm twisted in h

ElenaElena pulled out her phone. “I’m calling a ride.”“Elena, don’t be dramatic.”“I’m not being dramatic. I’m leaving.” Her hands were still shaking as she opened the app. She stared at the screen. No drivers available in this area. She refreshed. Still nothing.Fuck.She tried another app. Same thing. The Cross estate was too far out, too isolated, too rich for regular drivers to bother with.Her thumb hovered over Dr. Alex’s number.“I’ll take you home.”Elena looked up. Ethan stood by the door, his jacket back on, his expression neutral.“You said you were drinking.”“I had two glasses of champagne hours ago. I’m fine to drive.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Come on. I’m not letting you stand here trying to find a ride at midnight.”Elena wanted to argue but she was exhausted and her feet hurt and the thought of staying in this house one more second made her want to scream.“Fine.”They walked downstairs in silence. The party was still going, music and laughter bleeding t

Elena “Carlos.” Ethan’s voice sliced through whatever was building and Elena’s lungs remembered how to work. He stood in the doorway looking calm but his shoulders were locked tight. Carlos’s face changed so fast Elena almost thought she’d imagined the gold in his eyes. He smiled, easy and charming again. “Just showing Elena our collection. She’s interested in the family history.” “Dinner’s about to start.” Ethan crossed the room and his hand landed on Elena’s back. Firm. Possessive. “We should go.” “Of course.” Carlos lifted his glass, took a slow sip. “Enjoy your evening, Elena. We’ll talk more later.” The promise in those words made her stomach drop. Ethan pulled her out fast. Too fast. His fingers dug into her back through the thin fabric of her dress and Elena wanted to shake him off but her legs were still shaking from whatever the fuck just happened with Carlos. “What were you doing with him?” “Nothing. He just started talking to me.” “Stay away from him.”

Evelyn My mother left at four with a container of food the housekeeper had packed for her and a promise from Clara to call more often. They’d spent three hours in the other living room and I’d heard them the entire time, laughter and low voices and the particular ease Clara had with her grandmother that she hadn’t had with me since she decided I was no longer cool enough to confide in. I’d spent those three hours upstairs doing nothing useful. After my mother’s car pulled out I gave it an hour. Let Clara settle back into her room, let the house get quiet enough that an interruption wouldn’t feel like an ambush. Then I walked down the hall and knocked on her door. “Yeah.” I pushed it open. She was on her bed, legs crossed, phone face down beside her, which meant she’d heard my footsteps and put it away before I got there. She looked at me with an expression that wasn’t hostile exactly. More like waiting to see what I wanted so she could decide how hostile to be. “Can I sit?” Sh

Evelyn The kitchen was the only room in the house that felt like it belonged to nobody in particular. No photographs on the walls, no evidence of Alfred’s careful image management, just countertops and cabinet doors and the coffee maker I’d bought three years ago because Alfred’s preferred one made too much noise in the mornings. I stood at the counter watching it brew and didn’t think about anything. That was the goal. Just the coffee, just the sound of it, just the smell. Five minutes of not calculating anything. The housekeeper’s footsteps moved from the foyer toward the front door before I heard the bell. Early for a visitor. I wrapped both hands around my mug and waited to hear who it was. Then I heard her voice. “Is Evelyn home? Tell her her mother is here.” I set the mug down. My mother hadn’t come to this house in over a year. The last time I’d visited we hadn’t parted well, which was how most of our encounters ended, her telling me I had more than enough and me walkin

EvelynThe press conference was still playing on my phone when the car pulled into the driveway.I watched myself on the screen. Standing at the podium beside Alfred in the navy dress his stylist had picked out, reading the statement his team had written, my voice even and apologetic while Alfred’s hand rested on the small of my back the entire time. Ownership disguised as support.“I made a mistake that I deeply regret. I allowed a difficult period in my marriage to lead me into a situation that was unfair to my family and to the public who has supported us. Alfred and I are committed to working through this together.”I pressed pause on myself mid-sentence.The woman on that screen had my face and my voice and I genuinely did not recognize a single thing about her. She stood there and said those words without flinching, without her eye twitching, without her jaw locking the way mine wanted to every time Alfred’s thumb moved against her spine like he was reminding her he was there.A

EvelynI was still sitting on the couch when I heard Alfred’s car in the driveway. The front door opened and slammed shut hard enough to rattle the frame.He walked into the living room and stopped when he saw me. His tie was loosened, jacket slung over one arm, and his face was red.“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”I looked up at him. “Alfred…”“Do you have any fucking idea?” He threw his jacket onto the chair and pulled out his phone, shoving it in my face. “This is everywhere. Every news outlet, every gossip blog, every social media platform. My wife caught in an affair with my former employee.”“They’re out there now and my campaign is in freefall because of you.”“Your campaign has been in freefall for months because of your own actions.”“My actions?” He laughed but it came out harsh. “My actions didn’t put photos of me fucking a twenty-five-year-old all over the internet.”“No, you just had people killed instead.”He went still. “What did you just say?”“Including your

Evelyn I pulled into the driveway too fast and nearly hit the mailbox. Alfred’s car wasn’t there but both kids’ cars were parked in their usual spots. I grabbed my purse and ran to the front door, my hands shaking as I unlocked it. “Clara?” No answer. I walked through the foyer into the living room and found them both sitting on the couch. Clara had her phone in her hand, tears streaming down her face. Nathan sat beside her with his arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Clara looked up at me and her expression was pure devastation. She held out her phone. I took it and the screen was open to some gossip website. The headline read: “GUBERNATORIAL CANDIDATE’S WIFE CAUGHT IN AFFAIR WITH CAMPAIGN STAFFER.” Below it were photos. Me and Theo at the coffee shop. Me getting into his car. Me leaving his apartment building late at night with my hair messed up and his hand on my back. The photo quality was clear, profe

EvelynI pulled into Theo’s street just after three and parked two houses down from his house. His car was in the driveway, curtains drawn in the front window.I sat there for a minute looking at his door, my hands still gripping the steering wheel. After the meeting with Richard, after setting everything in motion to strip Alfred’s accounts and secure my own future, I’d driven here. Needing to see Theo. Needing to tell someone what I’d done.I got out and walked up the path. Knocked twice.He opened it almost immediately like he’d been waiting. His tie was loosened, shirt untucked, top two buttons undone. His hair was messed up like he’d been running his hands through it all day.“Hey.”“Can I come in?”He stepped back and I walked past him into the living room. The TV was on mute, some news channel playing footage of campaign rallies and political commentary. His laptop sat open on the coffee table surrounded by papers and empty coffee mugs.“I heard what happened,” I said, turning

ARIA’S POV The Wedding For a second wedding I felt nervous. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror at first. I stood there in the small room the stylist set up for me, staring at the last details being pinned, smoothed, fixed. My dress wasn’t overly dramatic. It wasn’t loud or heavy or glittery. It felt like me clean lines, soft fabric, elegant but not too much, with a small hand-painted design at the hem that matched one of my favorite patterns from the art pieces Damien always loved watching me create. My mother stood behind me adjusting the last curl of my hair. She had been crying since morning and kept telling everyone she wasn’t crying, even while wiping her face with the corner of her sleeve. My brother kept pacing in the hallway, too excited to sit still. Elma kept peeking into the room, asking if she could come inside again even though she had already come in three times to hug me. Every time I looked at them, something inside my chest filled in a way I didn’t know

Damien’s POV I spent the entire afternoon in the backyard, trying to arrange everything without making it look forced. I wasn’t good at this kind of thing. I knew how to organize men, how to coordinate shipments, how to run operations worth millions, but setting up flowers and lights made me feel like I was handling the most fragile mission of my life. I kept checking the list I made earlier. I had written it at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. Every line had one purpose make her smile. Make her feel loved. Make her feel chosen. Not because of promises made under pressure, and not because of chaos that pushed us together. Because I wanted her. Because she deserved a proposal that came from my heart, not from fear or confusion. Mara helped me carry the last crate of candles to the poolside, and even she looked confused at first. She kept glancing at me as if waiting for me to change my mind, but when she saw how serious I was, she stopped asking questions. By seven

Aria Damien told me he was bringing her home. When I finally heard the car pull into the driveway, I stepped outside without realizing I had moved. The light hit the hood of the car as Damien climbed out from the driver’s side, but he didn’t look at me first. He went straight to the back door and opened it like he had carried this moment in his chest for years. My eyes followed his movements, and when he stepped aside, that was when I saw her. She sat with a blanket wrapped gently around her shoulders, her back hunched like she didn’t know how to hold her body anymore. Her hair fell softly over her cheeks, and there was a distant look in her eyes that made something shift inside me. She looked fragile, yes, but not in a weak way. It was the kind of fragility that came from surviving too much, the kind that felt raw and unprotected. Damien reached inside and eased her forward with careful hands. He held her like she belonged nowhere else but in his arms. When he lifted her, h

Aria’s POV I noticed the headlights through the curtains before anyone said a word. My mom had gone to her room to fold laundry and I was pretending to scroll through my phone on the couch, even though my mind had been blank for hours. The moment I realized that car was his, something in my chest tightened, not in the painful dramatic way people describe, but in a way that made me sit up slowly like my body wasn’t sure how to react. He didn’t text. He didn’t call. He simply showed up. I watched him step out of the car through the small gap between the curtains. He stood there for a moment, running a hand over his face like he was trying to gather himself before knocking. When he finally walked toward the door, my mom called my name quietly from the hallway. “He’s here again,” she said. “I know.” I stood up because sitting any longer felt impossible. Before she could say anything else, I walked outside. I didn’t want him inside the house again. I didn’t want my mom watc

Aria I spent the afternoon in the kitchen with my mom, helping her prepare one of her recipes. She moved around the space like she’d been doing it every day for years, and I tried to copy each step she showed me. She passed me a bowl of tomatoes and told me to add them little by little so they wouldn’t ruin the consistency of the sauce. I leaned closer to the pot and sprinkled them cautiously, trying not to make a mess. “You used to stand on a stool beside me and toss everything in at once,” she said with a small smile. “Then you’d laugh when I had to fix it. You were mischievous even as a child.” I smiled back even though I couldn’t fully remember the moment she talked about. Listening to her stories filled a space in me that had been empty for a long time. I stirred the sauce and let the rhythm calm me. My mom moved to the counter and folded a cloth neatly before looking at me again. “Now that you’ve settled in, I want to ask you something important,” she said gently. “Do

Damien’s POV I walked into her room early the next morning because I couldn’t stay away any longer. I didn’t sleep. I barely sat down the whole night. I just kept replaying everything the officer told me, and the look on her face last night when she opened her eyes for those few seconds. I kept thinking maybe she wouldn’t wake up again, or maybe she’d wake up scared and not know where she was. I kept thinking about all the years she spent alone while I was out there searching like a madman. When I stepped inside the room, the first thing I noticed was her eyes were open. Not wide open, but open enough for me to know she was fully awake this time. She looked smaller somehow, tucked into the sheets, her hair a mess across the pillow, her face pale but still carrying that familiar softness I remembered from so long ago. She turned her head slightly when she heard the door. I froze because it felt like a part of my chest pulled tight all at once. “Damien?” Her voice was tiny, r

Ari’s POV I pushed open the door to the beach house expecting to hear Rhea call out from the kitchen or peek her head from the bedroom, but the entire place sat still in a way that didn’t feel normal. The first thing I noticed was the bed rumpled, warm, and unmistakably missing her. The sight made a heavy ache spread through my chest. She had warned me last night that she would probably leave soon, and I tried to pretend I could ignore that possibility, but seeing the empty room forced the truth into my throat with a kind of weight I couldn’t swallow. I stepped inside slowly, almost afraid of confirming what I already feared. Every part of the house held some trace of her, yet she wasn’t here. I walked toward the kitchen table, hoping she left something behind, maybe a message or a note that explained why she couldn’t wait for me to come back. At first, there was nothing except a chair slightly out of place. Then I saw it a piece of paper sitting near the edge of the table with a p

Ari By the time I reached Rhea’s beach house, the night had settled into something heavy, the kind that makes you feel every step in your chest rather than your legs. Her small place sat near the dunes, soft light leaking through the curtains. I could hear faint movement inside I stopped outside her door for a few seconds, breathing slowly, trying to gather myself. My parents’ faces were still fresh in my mind Dad’s anger, Mom’s fear, the way their voices trembled when they realized who she was. If I stood there long enough, maybe everything would make sense. It didn’t. I lifted my hand and knocked. It took her a moment to answer. I heard her footsteps, hesitant but fast, like she wasn’t sure whether to open the door at all. When she finally pulled it open, she stood there barefoot, dress wrinkled from hours of wearing it, her hair a little undone around her face. Her eyes were red not from crying, but from holding in tears she didn’t want anyone to see. “Ari,” she said qu

Ari’s POV I brought Rhea home that morning even though she wasn’t sure about coming. I could tell from the way she kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes moving along the quiet path as if she expected someone to step out from behind a tree. I promised her it wouldn’t be awkward, that my parents would want to meet her before she left the island. After a long moment, she finally agreed. She walked beside me in a pale dress, her hair tied up loosely, sketchbook held tight against her chest. Every step she took felt careful, deliberate in a way that made me glance at her more than once. I didn’t tell her she had nothing to be nervous about, because in this house, everything had history. Mom opened the door before my hand even touched it. Her smile came quickly, warm and curious. “You must be Rhea.” Rhea nodded lightly. “Yes, ma’am.” Mom’s smile wavered. Not because she didn’t like her. It was something else. Something she sensed before she could name it. Her eyes narrowed slightl

Ari’s POV I didn’t plan to see her again that night. I walked because the house felt too tight around me after the fight with my father, every room still echoing with what we’d thrown at each other. I needed air, space, distance anything that didn’t sound like his voice in my head. The path that led toward the water gave me all of that. The shoreline shimmered in pale light, and the waves rose and fell with a rhythm that steadied my steps. I kept telling myself I only needed a few minutes to clear the noise in my chest. I didn’t expect to see her there. Rhea sat on the same overturned boat where we’d talked before, knees drawn up, sketchbook abandoned beside her like she’d forgotten she was supposed to be using it. She had her chin tucked down as if she was listening to the sea breathe. The tide kept reaching for her feet, slipping close then pulling back again. She lifted her head the moment I stopped, and the look in her eyes told me she’d felt me coming before she saw me.

Ari’s POV The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside wasn’t any quiet in the house. It was the way both my parents stared at me as if I had walked in carrying something dangerous on my skin. Father was still by the window, sleeves pushed up, his jaw clenched tight. Mom sat at the table with her fingers curled around a mug she hadn’t tasted once. Valeria was perched on the arm of the couch with a book open on her lap, but she hadn’t been turning any pages. Her eyes were fixed on me the whole time. “You’re late,” Father said without raising his voice. I shut the door behind me, feeling more eyes on me than people in the room. “Didn’t know there was a curfew,” I muttered, trying to walk past him, but the way he slowly turned his head told me that whatever he had heard, it wasn’t good. He asked if I wanted to repeat myself, and for a moment I actually considered lying, giving them some easy excuse, anything to avoid this conversation. But the moment our eyes met, everything f

Ari’s POV We stayed near the water after the men were gone. The tide had crept back, slow and heavy, dragging foam across the sand until it touched our feet. Rhea sat a few paces from me, knees pulled to her chest, sketchbook lying closed beside her. Neither of us spoke for a long time. The pier behind us had gone quiet. The fishermen had gone home. Only the sea kept talking. Her hair was still messy from the scuffle, a few strands stuck to her face. I wanted to brush them away, but I didn’t. I just sat there, watching the waves fold over each other, waiting for her to breathe normally again. Finally, she said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” I glanced at her. “I know.” “You could’ve gotten hurt.” “So could you.” “That’s different.” “No,” I said. “It’s not.” Rhea turned her head slowly. “You don’t get it, do you?” “Then make me get it.” Her eyes flicked to the horizon, pale and still. “You asked me who he was. That man at the pier.” “Yeah.” “He works for