Novels by Sarah Richard

Time felt different when Elena woke up.Not lighter. Not heavier. Just… honest.Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, soft and warm without demanding anything from her. She lay still for a moment, listening—not for tension, not for dread—but for presence.Breathing. Steady. Close.Damian was beside her, not wrapped around her possessively, not distant at the edge of the bed, but simply there. His arm rested loosely near her waist, as if he trusted she wouldn’t disappear if he let go.That realization did something dangerous to her heart.She turned slightly, studying him as he slept. Without the sharp suit, without the armor of authority, he looked younger. Less like a legend. More like a man who had finally allowed himself rest.Memories flickered through her mind: the first cold dinner, the unspoken rules, the nights she cried in silence, the fights that left wounds no apology could immediately heal.And then—the moments that followed. His breakdown. Her strength. The distance t

Somewhere between what had been lost and what still dared to exist, Elena realized her hands were trembling.Not from fear—she had lived with fear too long for it to surprise her—but from the quiet, unbearable weight of everything this moment carried. The city below the glass-walled penthouse pulsed with light, unaware that the empire towering above it had nearly fallen apart, unaware that two people standing inches apart had nearly destroyed each other in the process.Damian stood near the window, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, the rigid posture of the man she had first married long gone. He looked… human now. Tired. Bare. Vulnerable in a way she had never seen before.Silence stretched, heavy but not hostile.Elena took a breath that felt like crossing a border she could never return from.“So,” she said softly, voice steady despite the storm inside her, “this is it.”Damian turned, slowly. His eyes—those once-glacial eyes that had terrified boardrooms and broken rivals—held s

Understanding arrived quietly, without spectacle.Elena noticed it first not as a revelation, but as an absence—the absence of fear that had lived beneath her ribs for so long she had mistaken it for part of herself. She stood in the private conference room overlooking the city, hands resting on the polished table, breathing evenly.Today felt different.Not lighter. Not easier.Clearer.Damian entered moments later, jacket folded over his arm, expression composed but intent. He had the look of a man who had already made his decision and was simply waiting for the world to catch up.“You’re early,” he said.“I didn’t want to rush this,” Elena replied. “Whatever happens today… I want to be present for it.”He nodded. “So do I.”They had agreed to face this day together, not as CEO and spouse bound by history, but as partners bound by choice. Marcus’s silence had stretched too long to be coincidence. Julian’s sudden compliance felt staged. Pieces were moving into place.And clarity, Ele

Silence lingered between them in a way it never had before.Not the heavy, uncertain quiet that once carried doubt, but a settled stillness—one born from battles survived and truths faced head-on. Elena stood near the wide glass window of the penthouse, watching the city breathe beneath the fading sky, her reflection faint against the lights.Behind her, Damian closed the door gently.No rush. No tension.Just presence.“You didn’t say anything on the drive back,” he noted, voice low, careful not to disturb what felt fragile and sacred at the same time.Elena exhaled slowly before turning. “I was listening,” she said. “To everything that didn’t need words.”Damian studied her, as though trying to memorize a moment he feared time might steal. For years, he had believed love came with sharp edges—demands, leverage, conditions written between the lines. What stood before him now was something else entirely.Peace didn’t weaken him.It steadied him.“You were incredible today,” he said.E

Fingers traced the edge of the piano, still warm from the morning sun that had spilled into the room. Elena’s thoughts wandered, not to contracts or secrets, but to what it meant to truly be with someone—without fear, without reservation.Damian sat nearby, his expression calm but taut, as if every heartbeat carried the memory of all the battles they had fought—together and apart.“I never imagined peace could feel like this,” Elena admitted softly.Damian’s gaze softened, drifting over her. “Peace is earned,” he said. “We’ve earned it.”She smiled, leaning closer. “Do you think anyone else could ever understand it?”“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “but it wouldn’t matter. I only need you to understand it.”It was a simple truth, yet one that carried the weight of years spent navigating lies, betrayal, and unspoken desires. Love had never been safe for them. Not until now.Later that evening, they walked through the private gardens of the estate. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, and sof

Something inside Elena shifted the moment she realized there was nothing left to uncover.No hidden files. No withheld truths. No half-spoken fears waiting to explode at the wrong moment.For the first time since she had signed her name on that contract, the ground beneath her felt solid.She stood in the quiet of the penthouse kitchen, sunlight slipping across the marble counter, her thoughts uncharacteristically still. Peace didn’t arrive loudly. It crept in, cautious, like something unsure it was welcome.Damian watched her from the doorway.He had grown used to reading rooms, markets, people—but Elena had always been the one place where certainty failed him. Today, though, there was something different in her posture. Not guarded. Not braced for impact.Settled.“You’re thinking too loudly,” he said.She smiled faintly without turning. “I didn’t know that was possible.”“With you, it always is.”She turned then, leaning back against the counter. “I was just realizing something.”H

The dawn bled across the horizon, pale and uncertain, as if the sun itself feared to witness the last breaths of a kingdom caught between ruin and rebirth. The battlefield below Dawnspire lay quiet now, strewn with broken banners and shattered steel, the echoes of clashing armies fading into silence.Serenya Vale stood atop the marble steps of the ruined citadel, her chest rising and falling as though every breath was drawn from the ashes of all that had been lost. Her hair, once bound and hidden under disguises, now tumbled free—flame-gold strands glinting in the morning light, the mark of her bloodline finally revealed for all to see.Around her, knights, rebels, and remnants of the court gathered in hushed awe. The truth no longer hid behind veils or shadows. The secret heiress of the Vale stood before them—crowned not in gold, but in the weight of sacrifice.Kaelen Draven moved closer, his dark cloak torn and bloodstained, the steel of his blade catching the first rays of sunlight

Dawn crept slowly, painting the horizon with pale hues of silver and rose. Yet within Dawnspire’s fractured walls, the morning brought no peace. The fortress still echoed with the screams of the wounded, and the stones still bled with the memory of shadow and fire.Serenya awoke to the weight of silence. Her body ached, her chest felt hollow, and when her eyes opened, she realized she was lying in the high chamber of the keep. A thin veil of starlight lingered on her skin, fading with every breath.Kaelen sat at her bedside, his dark cloak discarded, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He had not slept. When she stirred, his hand clasped hers instantly, as though afraid she would vanish again.“You came back,” he whispered. His voice carried both relief and disbelief.Serenya tried to speak, but only a rasp came. “I thought… I was gone.”“You almost were.” Kaelen’s jaw tightened. “You burned so brightly I thought the stars themselves would swallow you. But you held on.”Held on—but onl

The night sky was ablaze with silver fire. Beyond the walls of Dawnspire, where banners lay torn in the mud and the scent of iron clung heavy to the air, Serenya stood at the balcony of the shattered throne room. The moonlight spilled over her like a second crown, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon—where shadows writhed like a living tide.The war was not finished.Kaelen’s cloak brushed against her arm as he stepped closer, his dark hair plastered with sweat and blood. He had fought all day—on the walls, in the courtyards, at her side—and yet his gaze held a quiet steadiness.“They will come again before dawn,” he said, voice low.Serenya tightened her grip on the stone rail. “We cannot withstand another assault. Not with the gates splintered, not with half our guard lying in the ashes of the courtyard.”Kaelen turned to her fully, the faint scar that cut across his jaw catching the light. “That is why it ends tonight. Shadows and stars—the prophecy was always about this hour.”T

Dawn spilled across the sky in strokes of gold and crimson, as if the heavens themselves had painted the horizon with fire and hope. For the first time in years, the banners of the Vale dynasty rose over Dawnspire’s highest tower—Serenya’s crest, silver and starlit, gleamed against the morning light.Yet, despite the triumph, Serenya felt the weight of silence pressing upon her heart. The throne hall was rebuilt, but her soul remained fractured. Kaelen was gone, his oath shattered in the eyes of her people, though in the shadows of her memory she still clung to the belief that his betrayal carried deeper meaning.The council gathered beneath the vaulted ceiling, their voices filled with the business of a kingdom clawing its way back to life. Food supplies were measured, alliances brokered, soldiers sworn anew. But as Serenya sat upon the throne—her throne—she found herself lost in thought.Could a kingdom truly be reborn when her heart was still broken?Eloria Thorne stepped forward,

The storm had not passed—it had only grown heavier. The skies wept as though mourning the unraveling of every promise made beneath them.Serenya stood on the ruined battlements of Dawnspire, her cloak whipping wildly around her as lightning forked across the horizon. The fires of war still smoldered in the valleys below, villages blackened by the clash between crown and rebellion. But it was not the destruction that hollowed her chest—it was the silence of a vow broken.Kaelen had not come back.He had sworn before her, under starlight and shadow, that no matter what trials were placed in their path, his sword and his heart would never falter. Yet, in the final confrontation with Thalric Veynor, the ruthless duke who had hungered for the throne, Kaelen had made a choice that still cut deeper than any blade.He had left her side.Serenya’s hand tightened around the silver crest she wore, the token Kaelen had pressed into her palm the night he confessed his love. Its edges dug into her

Chapter 95Heiress CrownedMorning broke across Dawnspire with a sky painted in molten gold and violet, as if the heavens themselves had been scorched by the fire of the Starforge. The air carried the scent of ash and rain, a mingling of ruin and renewal. Serenya Vale stood at the heart of the shattered courtyard, her cloak torn, her hair loose and glinting with the faint shimmer of starlight that had not faded since the forge claimed her.Every soldier, every wounded warrior, every trembling villager gazed upon her with awe. They did not see the hidden girl who had lived in shadows. They saw the heir unveiled, the dawn their stories had whispered into being.Yet beneath the crown of fire that glowed faintly upon her brow, Serenya’s chest ached with the weight of what lay ahead. A crown was not victory—it was burden, sacrifice, and the promise of endless battles yet to come.Kaelen stood beside her, his sword grounded but his posture tense, ever the shield between her and the world. H