Novels by vancleefer

Lila’s POVThe floor of the art studio looked like a glitter bomb had gone off in a craft store. There were tubes of acrylic paint oozing onto the hardwood, stray sequins stuck to the bottom of my feet, and a bottle of high-gloss varnish that was dangerously close to tipping over.I sat cross-legged in the center of the chaos, staring at the blank, matte-black square of my graduation cap. It was supposed to be a symbol of completion—the final dot at the end of a very long, very messy sentence. Instead, it felt like a target."You're doing it wrong," Asher grunted. He was leaning against my drafting table, looking entirely out of place surrounded by pastel pinks and iridescent glitter. He was currently flicking a silver paint pen between his fingers like it was a switchblade."There is no 'wrong' in art, Asher," I said, not looking up as I carefully dabbed a sponge into a puddle of deep violet. "That’s the whole point. It’s expression. It’s soul.""It’s a hat, Monroe," he countered, t

Asher’s POVThe wind wasn't just cold; it was a physical weight, screaming past my helmet as we cleared the Silvercrest city limits. I could feel Lila’s fingernails digging into the leather of my jacket, her chest pressed so tight against my back that our heartbeats were fighting for the same rhythm.I didn't tell her where we were going. I didn't have to. After the disaster with the board and whatever hell Jax had put her through with that photo, she didn't need a conversation—she needed a goddamn escape. I pushed the Triumph harder, the speedometer climbing until the world became a blur of dark trees and streaking headlights.We hit the coast road forty minutes later. The salt air cut through the scent of gasoline, sharp and biting. I throttled down as we reached a jagged cliffside path I’d known since I was a kid—the kind of place where the "Private Property" signs were just suggestions.I killed the engine. The silence that followed was deafening, filled only by the rhythmic, viol

Jax povThe morning air in the Harrington administrative wing smelled like floor wax and old, expensive secrets. I stood in front of the heavy oak doors of the Board Room, my fingers digging into the straps of my portfolio bag. Usually, I felt like a whimsical outsider in these halls, but today, I felt like a gladiator heading into a lion’s den—mostly because I knew the lion had a blonde blowout and a trust fund named Sloane Van Doren.I didn’t have to wait for the summons. The doors swung open, and the silence that greeted me was thick enough to choke on.Six board members sat behind a long mahogany table. At the center was Principal Higgins, looking like he’d just swallowed a lemon, and to his left sat Mrs. Gable, the head of Admissions for NYU Tisch, who was visiting to "verify" the integrity of my scholarship.And there, leaning against the far wall with a look of feigned concern, was Sloane. She smoothed her skirt, her eyes tracking me with a glint of pure, unadulterated malice.

Jax’s POVThe air in the Sterling’s private club in New Haven didn't smell like the future; it smelled like cedarwood, old money, and the suffocating weight of a thousand expectations.I adjusted my tie in the gilded mirror of the foyer, my fingers feeling like lead. I was wearing the Sterling blue—the navy blazer that signaled I was part of the tribe. My father stood behind me, his hand resting on my shoulder. It wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a grip, a reminder that I was an extension of his own ambition."Smile, Jax," he murmured, his voice as smooth as the single-malt scotch he was already holding. "These are the families that will fund your first firm. These are the people who matter.""Right," I muttered, my jaw tight. "The people who matter."We stepped into the main hall, a sea of mahogany and brass. The "Yale Legacy Mixer" was exactly what I feared: a room full of people talking about hedge funds and offshore accounts while pretend-caring about "intellectual rigor." E

Asher’s POVI hate books…really.The scent of old paper and dust usually made me want to crawl out of my skin, but tonight, the library felt like the center of the damn universe.I stared at the open textbook on the floor, the words blurring into a mess of black ink that looked more like oil spills than actual sentences. History. European History. Apparently, I needed to know the exact date some royal idiot signed a treaty if I wanted to walk across that stage and keep the state investigators off Lila’s back.If I failed my finals, I was out. No diploma, no legal standing, and no way to stay in Silvercrest while the "Princess" drama turned Lila’s life into a target range."Focus, Asher. Who led the unification of Germany?"Lila was sitting cross-legged on the rug opposite me. She’d ditched the "Princess" panic for a few hours, wearing an oversized sweater that swallowed her frame and a pair of reading glasses she usually only wore when she was doing fine-detail sketches. She looked so

Lila’s POVThe envelope was heavy. Not just physically, with its high-gsm paper and embossed NYU seal, but heavy with the kind of life-altering weight that made my hands go numb. I sat on the floor of my new art studio—the one I’d technically bought along with the rest of the school—surrounded by the smell of linseed oil and the ghost of the revelation from the basement.I didn't open it for twenty minutes. I just sat there, staring at the purple torch logo of NYU Tisch. This was the dream. The one I’d scribbled in the margins of my notebooks since I was ten years old. Manhattan. The Village. A place where my "whimsical" style wouldn't be a scholarship curiosity, but a voice.Finally, I slid my finger under the flap.Dear Lila Monroe, It is with great pleasure...I stopped reading. My heart didn't do a happy dance; it hit a wall. I was in. I was officially a New Yorker. But as I looked around the studio, the victory felt hollow. Three months. That was the countdown. In ninety days, th

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