Novels by Willow Hill

My breath left my body and mind utterly, terrifyingly blank.The photographer shouted, “Mr. Blackwood! Is there a statement on Olivia’s passing?” echoed in the small, recessed corner of the hospital lobby, cutting through the general chaos of the press swarm. The pieces slammed together with brutal force: the black trench coat, the wealth implied by the black Tesla on the highway, the name of the celebrated actress, and the quiet, crushing grief I had just kissed.He wasn't just a man whose wife died of cancer. He was Ivan Blackwood, Olivia Blackwood's husband, a Hollywood legend, an artist whose disappearance from the screen had been the subject of endless speculation.The weight of my own pitiful scandal—the cheating boyfriend, and last night's robbery. I was now tethered to a national tragedy and a man who was the focal point of a media frenzy.“Get a grip, Kylie,” he hissed, his grip on my arm tightening, not out of malice, but sheer necessity. His dark eyes, still red-rimmed, we

What have I done?, what have I done?, what have I done?!No, no, no!I fled the oncology alcove and ran down the quiet hallway, not stopping until I was outside the clinic, leaning against the G-Wagon. The shame was blinding. I had just kissed a man whose wife died an hour ago. How could I??The chaos was overwhelming.I couldn't stay here. I just couldn't. I had to leave right now.I drove straight back to Charles's apartment.I parked the G-Wagon down the street. The planned surprise—the huge blue bow—now looked insane. My black Audi was nowhere in sight. I drove slowly past the spot where I'd left it, the police must have finally towed it away, I decided. It was certainly possible that while Charles was chasing after me last night, perhaps trying to explain away the infidelity I wasn't ready to hear, the police met with him and arranged the tow.I approached the apartment building and unlocked the door. The place was silent, Charles's Porsche gone.I walked toward the kitchen ta

What have I done?, what have I done?, what have I done?!No, no, no!I fled the oncology alcove and ran down the quiet hallway, not stopping until I was outside the clinic, leaning against the G-Wagon. The shame was blinding. I had just kissed a man whose wife died an hour ago. How could I??The chaos was overwhelming.I couldn't stay here. I just couldn't. I had to leave right now.I drove straight back to Charles's apartment.I parked the G-Wagon down the street. The planned surprise—the huge blue bow—now looked insane. My black Audi was nowhere in sight. I drove slowly past the spot where I'd left it, the police must have finally towed it away, I decided. It was certainly possible that while Charles was chasing after me last night, perhaps trying to explain away the infidelity I wasn't ready to hear, the police met with him and arranged the tow.I approached the apartment building and unlocked the door. The place was silent, Charles’s Porsche gone.I walked toward the kitchen ta

I woke up with a groan, my neck stiff and my body aching from being curled up in the enormous driver's seat of the G-Wagon. It was light outside, the world outside my windshield a blurry mess of gray and green, slick with rain.A persistent tapping on the window finally yanked me from my exhausted sleep. I jumped, my heart immediately seizing with the residual terror of the robbery.I cracked the window, peering out. Standing under the steady drizzle was an old woman who looked to be in her 70s. Her face was a network of kind wrinkles, framed by a patterned headscarf. She looked frail, yet worried."Are you doing okay, my dear?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.I nodded, squinting. It was pouring, and this elderly lady was standing in the downpour, worrying about a stranger in an expensive SUV."This is no way to end your life. You could suffocate and die, you know?" She gestured dramatically with her hand at the word die, and that alone snapped me back to the shocking realit

I’d never been so triggered in my life. ​The last time I felt such shock was the day my father fell dead on our living room floor 11 years ago. And even then, I wasn't sure I was as shocked as I was right now. I watched Charles fumble for his clothes, but he was so shaken he couldn't even get his underwear on. His utter lack of dignity only added a layer of disgust to the fury building inside me. My gaze shifted to Lisa. How could she do this to me? ​Every Saturday for about a year now, I’ve held breakfast brunches and never forgot to invite her. I actually took her as one of my friends; we’d talk most of the time about office gossip I was missing out on. She'd tell me about her flings, and she, more than anyone, would always emphasize how much Charles loved me and talked about me. Right now, I felt so naive. Stupid even. She'd been sleeping with my boyfriend all this while, and I was so blinded by love for him that I couldn't even imagine it, talk less of suspecting him. The

I’d been driving down to my boyfriend’s house after lying to him that I had an important meeting in Texas—only to surprise him for his birthday. It was all I could think about behind the wheel. I kept replaying the frown on his face when I’d told him I’d be “away” for work. Thomas and Joe, his closest friends, were in on the surprise, and I was finally going to gift him his dream car. We’d been saving for a G-Wagon for almost a year, lagging behind on a few thousand dollars—but I’d paid the balance off a few days ago, just in time for his birthday.Charles and I had been together for three years. Our relationship had been nothing but smooth. He bought me flowers every week, checked up on me constantly, and my mom literally loved him more than she loved me. After years of bad luck in relationships, Charles coming into my life felt like a blessing.“Are you sure he’s home?” Thomas asked.I smiled, remembering how we’d FaceTimed about an hour ago. He was definitely home.Absentmindedly,