Novels by Vivian O

Curtis Boyle had worked the palace grounds for almost six years, mostly keeping to the hedges and flower beds along the eastern wall, the kind of job that let a man stay invisible if he wanted to, and Curtis had always preferred it that way.Peter found him kneeling in the dirt near the rose garden, gloves caked with soil, a small radio playing static-heavy music beside him that he switched off the moment he noticed someone approaching."Mr. Boyle." Peter kept his tone light, unhurried, the way he'd learned worked best when you didn't want someone bolting before you'd gotten anything useful out of them. "Got a minute?""Depends what for." Curtis didn't look up right away, brushing dirt from a trowel with more attention than the task really required."Just following up on some vehicle registrations. Routine stuff." Peter crouched down near the edge of the flower bed, keeping himself at eye level rather than looming. "You drive a blue sedan, right? Older model."Curtis's hands stilled f

The machines beeped their same steady rhythm they'd kept for days, and Daggy had almost stopped hearing them anymore, the sound fading into background noise the way anything did when you sat with it long enough.She was there on one of her supervised visits, watching her mother's chest rise and fall, when Mitchell's fingers twitched against the blanket, small but unmistakable."Mama?" Daggy sat up straighter, leaning closer, her heart suddenly hammering. "Mom, can you hear me?"Mitchell's eyelids fluttered, slow and heavy, fighting against whatever sedation was still working through her system. It took nearly a full minute before her eyes finally opened, unfocused at first, drifting around the room like she wasn't entirely sure where she was."Daggy?" Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a rasp, but it was her voice, and Daggy nearly sobbed at the sound of it."I'm here, Mama. I'm right here." Daggy took her hand carefully, mindful of the IV taped there. "You're in the hospital. You

Peter had the vehicle registry pulled up across two monitors, cross-referencing Beth Morris's description against every car registered to palace staff and their known associates, a process that felt less like investigation and more like searching for one specific grain of sand on a very long beach.Dark blue, older model, dented rear bumper. It wasn't much to go on, but it was more than he'd had a week ago, and Peter had learned to be grateful for scraps when scraps were all that were available.He narrowed the search by color first, then by age of vehicle, cutting the list down from several hundred to just under forty. Still too many, but manageable, something he could actually work with instead of drowning in.It was tedious work, cross-checking registration photos against Beth's description, most of them clearly wrong the moment he pulled up the image. Wrong shade of blue, no dent, wrong body style entirely.He was on car number twenty-six when something made him pause. A sedan reg

Foster's office wasn't what Beth expected. She'd pictured something colder, more intimidating, but instead found herself sitting across from a tired-looking older man in a room that felt more like an accountant's office than anything belonging to pack law enforcement."Take your time," Foster said, his recorder already running on the desk between them, though his tone suggested patience wasn't necessarily his strongest quality. "Start from the beginning. What did you see, and when."Beth's hands were folded so tightly in her lap her knuckles had gone pale. "It was the same afternoon everyone's been talking about. I was walking my dog, just past the edge of my yard, and I saw a man carrying a little girl toward a car.""Can you describe the man?""Medium height. Dark jacket. I didn't get a great look at his face, it was getting dark." Beth swallowed hard. "But the car. I remember the car. Dark blue, older model, and there was a dent on the back bumper, like it had been in an accident a

The shell company was called Meridian Holdings, a name so deliberately forgettable that Peter almost admired whoever had chosen it, the kind of name designed to slide right past anyone not looking closely enough.He'd spent two days tracing the payment Harvey Grant had pocketed back through a maze of accounts, favors, and a records clerk who owed him money from a card game months ago and was more than willing to look the other way while Peter dug through files he technically shouldn't have had access to.Meridian Holdings had made three payments to Harvey over the past two months, small enough not to draw attention individually but adding up to something that made Peter's jaw tighten every time he looked at the total.And Meridian Holdings, buried under two more shell companies and a property management firm that existed mostly on paper, traced back to an account that had originally been opened by Mary Charles Hemstrong four years ago, before she'd even married Dynan.Peter sat with t

Nina Wallace had known Mary Charles Hemstrong since they were both new wives navigating pack politics together, back when Mary still laughed easily and hadn't yet learned to calculate every word before she said it.They met for lunch at the same café they'd been going to for years, a quiet place tucked away from the main square where nobody important tended to eavesdrop, though lately Nina found herself wondering if that privacy had always worked in Mary's favor rather than hers."You've barely touched your food," Mary observed, swirling the ice in her water glass with a straw she wasn't using. "Something on your mind?""Just tired," Nina said, pushing a piece of lettuce around her plate without much interest. "The whole palace feels tense lately. You must feel it more than anyone."Mary's expression flickered, something quick and controlled passing behind her eyes before the pleasant mask settled back into place. "It's been a difficult few weeks, yes. But things will calm down once t

Sophia's pov I stared at the text for twenty minutes before calling Vincent. He answered on the first ring."Did you tell Diana where I live?""What? No. Why would I?""Because someone just texted me to stay away from you."Silence on his end. Then, "She must have followed me to your house.""That's insane.""That's Diana." Vincent exhaled. "I'm sorry Sophia. I shouldn't have come over. I didn't think she'd—""Save it. I'm not scared of her." I wasn't sure that was true but saying it out loud helped. "But we need to deal with this before it gets worse.""I don't know how.""I do. Meet me at the library tomorrow. Noon. Bring every text, email, anything you have from her.""Sophia, you don't have to—"I hung up.Tuesday morning I called in sick to work. Spent three hours researching extortion laws and blackmail cases. Most of what I found wasn't helpful. Vincent was right. Diana could claim everything was consensual. That he owed her legitimate business debt.But the breaking and enter

Sophia's povI watched from across the street as Diana got out of her Mercedes. She wore a red dress that probably cost more than my monthly salary. Vincent's whole body went rigid when he saw her.They talked. Diana moved closer. Put her hand on his chest. Vincent stepped back. She followed. Even from this distance I could see him shaking his head. Saying no to something.Diana pulled out her phone. Showed him something on the screen. Vincent went completely still. Then he nodded. Got in the passenger seat of her car.They drove away.I sat there for ten minutes trying to figure out what I'd just seen. A landlord doesn't touch her tenant like that. Doesn't show up at nine pm on a Wednesday. Doesn't make someone get in her car with whatever was on that phone.Thursday I couldn't focus at work. Kept checking my phone like Vincent might text me an explanation. He didn't.Friday morning Pastor Williams called me into his office. I work at the church library three days a week cataloging t

Sophia's povI didn't sleep for three nights. By Sunday morning I'd decided not to go to church. Not to meet Vincent for coffee. Not to hear whatever excuse he'd prepared.But at nine thirty I was in my car anyway. Because some part of me needed to hear him say it.Vincent was already at the piano when I walked in. He looked up and smiled like nothing was wrong. Like I hadn't spent three days imagining him in hotel rooms with strangers.The service passed. I didn't hear Pastor Williams's sermon. Just watched Vincent's hands move across the piano. Those hands that had given me tissues on Wednesday. Those hands that had touched people for money.When it ended, Vincent caught my arm."Coffee? There's a place two blocks over."I should say no. Walk away. Go home."Okay."The coffee shop was small. We sat in the back corner. Vincent wrapped his hands around his cup but didn't drink."You know.""What?""About New York. About what I did." He looked at me. "I can see it on your face.""My si

Sophia's pov Diana left after ten minutes with some excuse about an appointment. The way she looked at Vincent before she walked out made my stomach tight. Like she owned him.Vincent sat at the piano running through scales."When did you stop singing?""Eleven months ago.""The same time you stopped coming to church." It wasn't a question. He already knew."Yes.""Do you want to talk about why?""No.""Okay. We don't have to talk. We can just sing."He started playing a hymn I knew from childhood. His voice came in first, showing me where to enter. I opened my mouth but nothing came out."It's okay. First time back is hard.""How do you know?""Because I had a first time back too. Two years ago. I couldn't sing for almost a year.""Why not?""I lost someone. Someone important. Singing reminded me of them. So I stopped.""What changed?""I realized not singing hurt more than singing did. The pain was there either way. At least with music I felt something other than empty."His words

Sophia's pov I haven't step foot in Grace Community Church for eleven months. Not since the funeral. Not since I buried my husband Marcus and our stillborn daughter on the same gray October afternoon.Today was Sunday. The bulletin said they hired a new choir director. Pastor Williams thought live music might bring back the congregation that had dwindled during the pandemic. I came because my sister Isabella wouldn't stop calling until I did.The sanctuary felt smaller than I remembered. Wooden pews that needed refinishing. Stained glass windows that let in too much light. Twenty people scattered across seats meant for two hundred.Isabella grabbed my arm when I walked in. "You came. I'm so glad you came.""Don't make a big deal out of it.""I won't." She pulled me to a pew near the front. "But I am glad."The organist started playing. People stood. I stood because everyone else did but my mouth stayed closed during the hymn. The words felt wrong in my throat. Empty.Then the choir d

Maya's pov Six months later, I stood in Sophie's rebuilt barn. New wood. Fresh paint. Twenty hives arranged in neat rows outside."Hand me that frame." Sophie was up on a ladder installing shelves.I passed it to her. She hammered it into place."That's the last one." She climbed down. "We're officially done with construction.""Took long enough.""Six months isn't bad for a complete rebuild." She looked around. "It's smaller than before, but it works."The house was more compact too. One bedroom instead of two. Kitchen and living room combined. But it was ours. We'd built it together.My phone rang. Mom."Maya, just checking if you're still coming to dinner.""Yeah. Seven, right?""Right. And bring Sophie. I made her favorite.""Will do."Sophie smiled when I told her. "Your mom's been feeding me every Sunday for half a year. I'm getting spoiled.""She likes having someone to cook for." I pulled her closer. "Plus she loves you.""I love her too." She kissed me. "You ready for today?