Novels by vancleefer

Cassia woke to sunlight streaming through cheap curtains.For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. The bed was too soft, the pillow too flat. Then she felt Elara's warm weight pressed against her side, she heard her daughter's quiet breathing, and everything came rushing back.The hospital….the fight and her declaration of divorce.She turned her head. Elara slept curled into a ball, her rabbit clutched to her chest, dark curls spilling across the pillow. She looked so peaceful. So innocent.Cassia's chest ached.Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached for it, squinting at the screen. 47 missed calls. 23 text messages. 12 voicemails.All from Dorian.She scrolled through the texts without opening them. The preview was enough.We need to talk…you're being unreasonable….Cassia, this is ridiculous…Where are you?....WHERE ARE YOU?The last few were all caps. It showed he was desperate…or angry. She didn't understand why he still wanted her when he'd been sleeping with her

Cassia's hands wouldn't stop shaking.She walked down the corridor, past the nurses' station, past the waiting area with its too-bright lights and plastic chairs. The adrenaline that had carried her through the confrontation was draining away, leaving her hollow.She'd done it. She'd actually done it.She'd asked for a divorce.The recording sat in her phone like a live grenade. Dorian's voice, threatening to take Elara. Calling her pathetic. Every cruel word preserved forever.But what now?She stopped walking and leaned against the wall, pressing her forehead to the cool surface. Where was she supposed to go? The hotel suite was in Dorian's name. He could have her kicked out with a phone call. And home—God, she couldn't think about going home. Back to that house where he'd lied to her for three years. Where Ava had probably sat at her kitchen table, drinking her coffee, laughing at her behind her back.Elara.The thought hit her like cold water. She'd left her daughter in the child

Dorian's face went white. "You're not thinking clearly," he said, his voice measured now. "You're emotional. Upset. You've had a traumatic night. Let's discuss this when you've calmed down.""I've never been clearer.""Cassia." He took a step toward her. "You're making a decision that will affect the rest of your life. The rest of Elara's life. You need to think about this rationally.""I am thinking rationally.""No, you're reacting." He gestured with one hand, the other still pressed against his ribs. "I made a mistake. A terrible mistake. But marriages survive affairs. We can get through this.""I don't want to get through this." She said it simply. "I want out."His jaw tightened. "And what about Elara?""What about her?""You think I'm just going to let you take my daughter?" His voice dropped. "You think I'm going to walk away from her?""I'm not asking you to walk away from her. I'm asking you to walk away from me.""It doesn't work like that." He stepped closer again. "If you

The security guards released her in the hallway outside Ava's room."Ma'am, you need to stay calm," one of them said. "If there's another incident—""There won't be." Cassia's voice came out flat. Empty.They hesitated, then walked away, leaving her alone in the fluorescent-lit corridor.Cassia slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold linoleum floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared at nothing.Three years. Before their wedding and before their engagement party.She tried to remember that night. Tried to picture Dorian and Ava together. Had they disappeared at the same time? Had she noticed anything? Any sign?But all she could remember was her own happiness. How excited she'd been. How in love.How stupid.The tears came again, silent this time. They ran down her face and dripped onto her jeans. She didn't wipe them away."Cassia."She looked up. Dorian stood at the end of the hallway, one hand braced against the wall. He'd put on a hospital robe over his gown

Cassia decided she had to let go of her anger in a violent way and she knew exactly who to let it out on.Cassia shook off the nurse's hands. "Get off me.""Mrs. Vale, you need to sit down—""I said get off!" She pushed past the nurse, past Dr. Patel, past Kael who was still slumped against the wall."Cassia, wait—" Kael reached for her, but she was already gone.She ran down the corridor, her vision blurred with tears. Second floor. The doctor said Ava was on the second floor.Her feet pounded against the linoleum as she found the stairwell and burst through the door. Down one flight, through another door, into another corridor."Excuse me!" A nurse called after her. "You can't run in here!"Cassia didn't stop. She checked room after room, throwing doors open, ignoring the startled patients and staff."Where is she?" Cassia grabbed a passing nurse by the arm. "Ava Jennings. Where is she?""I—I don't know—""Find out!" Cassia's voice echoed down the hall.The nurse pulled up something

Cassia looked down at Elara, whose face was streaked with tears. She couldn't let her daughter see whatever was about to happen in that room.She crouched down, wiping Elara's cheeks with her thumb. "Baby, I need you to go with this nice nurse for a little bit, okay?""But I want to stay with you," Elara whimpered."I know." Cassia's voice cracked. "But Mama needs to talk to Daddy alone. Just for a few minutes."A young nurse stepped forward, offering her hand to Elara. "We have a playroom downstairs with toys and books. Would you like to see it?"Elara looked at Cassia, uncertain."It's okay," Cassia said, forcing a smile. "I'll come get you soon. I promise."Elara took the nurse's hand reluctantly, clutching her rabbit with the other. As they walked away, she kept looking back. Cassia waved until they turned the corner.Then she turned to Dorian's room and pushed the door open.Dorian was sitting up in bed, his face flushed despite the bruises. He was pulling at the IV in his arm, c

Lila’s Pov“If you think an illegal warehouse party is a bad idea, wait until you see what I can do with a canvas, a bottle of champagne, and two men who don't know the meaning of the word 'boundaries.'”The Reapers’ sanctuary had undergone a metamorphosis that would have made a butterfly look like a lazy overachiever. Gone were the grease-stained tarps and the smell of old exhaust. In their place, Asher had draped heavy black velvet over the tool racks, lit a thousand flickering candles that probably violated every fire code in Silvercrest, and installed a sound system that made the bass thrum through the very soles of my feet.It was the "Warehouse Gala," the most unauthorized, dangerous, and brilliantly "us" event in the history of the academy.I stood in the center of the room, my breath catching as I looked at the walls. Asher hadn’t just hung my sketches; he had curated them. He had taken the drawings I thought were lost—the ones he’d ripped in a fit of pique during our first we

Asher's pov “Tell me she didn’t sign it, or I’m going to pull these IV tubes out and use them to strangle someone.”The words came out as a raspy growl, my throat feeling like I’d swallowed a handful of dry gravel and a lit match. I tried to sit up, but the world performed a violent 360-degree spin that made me want to throw up the nothingness in my stomach. A sharp, white-hot spike of pain shot through my ribs, and my left arm felt like it had been replaced by a heavy, throbbing brick of plaster.“Easy, Tiger. You’re currently held together by medical tape and sheer spite,” Jax’s voice drawled from the corner.I blinked, my vision finally settling. Jax was leaning against the hospital window, looking surprisingly ruffled for a guy who usually had every hair in a state of perfection. Next to him stood Lila. She looked small, her eyes rimmed with red, but when she looked at me, that unpredictable spark was back—the one that told me she was currently more dangerous than the bike that h

Lila’s POV“If the smell of antiseptic and floor wax is the scent of a tragedy, then I’m officially living in a five-star horror movie with a very depressing soundtrack.”The fluorescent lights of the Silvercrest General waiting room were doing exactly zero favors for my complexion or my sanity. I sat on a plastic chair that felt like it was designed by someone who hated human spines, staring at the red smears on my hands. It wasn't my blood. It was Asher’s.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the sparks. I heard the sickening crunch of his bike hitting the pavement. And I felt the way his hand had gone limp in mine before the paramedics shoved me away."Drink this. It tastes like cardboard and regret, but it’s warm."A paper cup appeared in my peripheral vision. I looked up to see Jax standing over me. He’d ditched his leather jacket, and his white button-down was rumpled, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that were still tight with tension. He looked exhausted, but he still ma

Asher’s POVThe air at the "Dead Man’s Curve" was thick with the scent of burnt rubber, cheap beer, and enough high-octane ego to fuel a rocket ship. This wasn't Harrington Academy with its polished marble and polite backstabbing; this was my world. A world where the only thing that mattered was the roar of a 1200cc engine and the size of your balls when you hit a hairpin turn at midnight.I sat on my bike, adjusting the leather glove over my bandaged hand. It throbbed, a rhythmic reminder of the fire and the explosion, but I barely felt it. I was too busy staring across the asphalt."Check your oil, Vale. You look like you're vibrating," Snake muttered, slapping the back of my helmet."I’m fine," I snapped, though I wasn't looking at him. I was looking at Lila.She was standing near the starting line, wearing a cropped denim jacket and a pair of boots that looked ready to kick some teeth in. She looked like a masterpiece—a splash of whimsical color in a sea of gray concrete. But she

Asher’s POV“If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then the road to my bedroom is definitely paved with bad decisions, leather jackets, and a staggering amount of unresolved sexual tension.”The Vale mansion felt like a tomb with better lighting. Usually, the air was thick with my father’s disappointment and the sound of my mother’s ghost, but tonight, with Daniel away closing some soul-crushing merger and Evelyn passed out after a bottle of Pinot, the house was ours.And by ours, I apparently meant me, my "fake" girlfriend/stepsister, and the Manhattan golden boy who was currently taking up way too much space on my Italian leather sofa."You're still here," I said, leaning against the doorframe of the media room, a glass of bourbon in my good hand. I looked at Jax, who had his legs kicked up on the coffee table like he owned the place."I’m making sure Lila is okay, Asher. Some of us don't think a punch to the face is a substitute for actual emotional support," Jax shot

Lila’s POV“If you ever want to feel like a snack in a room full of sharks, just walk into a billionaire’s foyer wearing a leather jacket and a look that says you’re ready to commit several light felonies.”The Hartley mansion didn't just look like money; it looked like the kind of place where joy went to be strangled by silk curtains and silent help. It was cold, cavernous, and currently, it was the den of the girl who had tried to set my life—and my stepbrother—on fire.I didn't knock. I’d spent the last hour fueling my courage with spite and a very sugary latte, and if I didn't do this now, I’d probably just go home and hide under my bed until graduation. I pushed past the distracted maid and followed the sound of a Chopin nocturne being played very, very badly.I found Vivian in a music room that had more gold leaf than a cathedral. She was sitting at a grand piano, her shoulders hunched, looking less like a queen and more like a ghost."The acoustics in here are great," I said, l