Novels by Rita Scott

The city blurred past the tinted car window, but Gabriel barely saw it. His temples throbbed, his jaw locked so tight it ached.He had left the house without slamming the door, without yelling, without breaking. That had to count for control. But inside, he wasn’t controlled. Inside, he was tearing apart.My words still rang in his head. “She’s lying. You know me.”But did he?The elevator doors opened into the Grayson Tower lobby, cool marble and glass gleaming under the morning lights. Conversations hummed, phones rang and heels clicked against stone. My kingdom. My empire. But for the first time, it felt… unstable.And then he saw her.Emily.She stood by the reception desk like she owned the place. A silk blouse, soft curls framing her face, a file folder tucked against her chest. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes softened instantly—rehearsed, perfect.“Gabriel,” she breathed, relief dripping from her tone.His gut twisted.“What are you doing here?” His voice came out shar

The kettle whistled.I barely heard it. My eyes were glued to the glow of my phone screen, my stomach knotting tighter with every passing second.At first, I thought it was a cruel coincidence. A gossip blog headline flashing across my feed:“Cold Wife? Sources Say Gabriel Grayson’s Spouse Neglects Family While Playing Homemaker.”My thumb scrolled lower, faster. Photos. Grainy, zoomed-in, but unmistakable—me at the grocery store, my face tight with exhaustion. Me at Lily’s school event, looking down at my phone during a speech.And then—my heart dropped—an audio clip.“…you never think, do you? Always so careless—”My voice. Cropped, harsh, jagged, twisted.The caption below screamed:“Exclusive: The REAL Eve Grayson. Cold. Heartless. Toxic.”I dropped the phone onto the counter like it was burning.The kettle screamed louder, steam hissing. My hands shook as I grabbed it and poured the boiling water too fast, scalding my fingers. I hissed, jerking back, water splashing onto the coun

Emily refreshed her feed for the twentieth time in ten minutes.The video had exploded. Comments poured in—sympathy, congratulations, and people calling her brave, radiant and an inspiration. Her smile curved sharper with every notification.#BabyGrayson was trending. Exactly as she planned.She sipped her wine, the glass catching the light, her reflection glowing back at her from the laptop screen. Let them all see. Let them all believe.Because that was the point—if the world believed her story, Gabriel would have no choice but to follow. What kind of man lets the mother of his unborn child suffer under another woman’s cruelty?She leaned back in her chair, stretching. Victory tasted sweet.Until the next notification blinked.Not a fan. Not a follower.A direct message.She frowned.The account was private. No name, no photo. Just one message.> Careful. Lies don’t last forever.Her heart skipped.Emily’s fingers tightened on the mouse. A prank. It had to be. Some jealous little no

I sat in the dim light of my kitchen; the only sound was the steady hum of the refrigerator.The folder Emily’s lawyer had left behind weeks ago lay on the table like a loaded weapon. It had sat there, unopened, daring me.I reached for it with trembling fingers. The embossed logo of the law firm glared up at me.My phone sat beside it, Sebastian’s name glowing on the screen.I pressed the call.It rang once. Twice. Then—“Eve?” His voice came low, alert, as if he’d been expecting this moment.“I need you,” I said, my throat tight.A pause, then the faint scrape of a chair on his end. I pictured him standing, straightening his tie, already moving. “What happened?”“She brought a lawyer to our door weeks ago.” My voice cracked under the memory. “She had papers—medical records, sonograms. Gabriel asked me to prove she’s lying.”Another pause. Sebastian’s inhale was sharp and deliberate. “Good.”“Good?”“That means he hasn’t chosen her,” Sebastian said evenly. “If he had, you’d already b

The café door slammed behind them, the tinkling bell jarring against the storm in my chest. The night air was sharp, cutting, but not sharp enough to clear the fog of rage clinging to me.Gabriel walked a few steps ahead, his stride clipped, shoulders stiff beneath his tailored jacket. He hadn’t touched Emily. Hadn’t spoken to her. But he hadn’t defended me either. Not once.“Gabriel.” My voice cracked like a whip.He stopped but didn’t turn.My heels clicked hard against the pavement as I closed the distance. “Why didn’t you say anything?”His jaw tightened. A muscle flicked. “Eve—”“No.” I moved in front of him, forcing him to look at me. My heart hammered, but my words came fast, unrestrained. She stood there in front of everyone and called me bitter, jealous, and hateful. She paraded her lies like gospel. And you—” my throat closed, hot with humiliation. “You just let her.”His eyes were dark, shadowed, and unreadable. “What did you want me to do? Cause a scene in the middle of a

The café was too bright, too loud. I had chosen the corner table, my back against the wall, but even that couldn’t shield me from the eyes.The women at the counter — wives of Gabriel’s colleagues, women I had once smiled at during charity galas — turned their heads together, whispering behind manicured hands. Their laughter wasn’t cruel on the surface, but the way their eyes flicked to me, then away, made my skin crawl.I stirred my coffee though I hadn’t tasted a sip. My phone lay face-down on the table, buzzing every few minutes with notifications. I didn’t have to look. I already knew what they were: the posts. The comments.Emily had made sure the world knew.#Blessed, one caption had read, beneath a sonogram picture. The kind of post designed to look innocent. Except the tag — #FamilyFirst #BabyGrayson — made my stomach twist.My friends had texted, cautious, pitying.Is it true? Do you need anything?Even my mother had called, voice tight with concern.“Eve?”I looked up, start