Novels by Lee_Star

Jane's POV For the first time in ages, I felt… excited. Sure, I was nervous and even terrified, but excitement won out. The creative department buzzed with chatter and the sharp sound of heels on polished floors. Bright boards showcasing colors and fabrics lined the walls, making it feel like a vibrant escape from William’s intimidating executive floor. “Over here, Jane,” Mira called, waving me over to her table. I approached, gripping my sketch folder as nerves made my palms damp and my heartbeat loud. Everything had changed so quickly. She smiled and pulled out a chair. “Ready?” I nodded, my throat tight. “Good! Let’s see what you created yesterday.” I opened my folder with trembling fingers, revealing eight clean pages—no doodles or rough sketches like the ones William had glimpsed before. These were polished ideas. Mira’s eyes widened when she saw the first page. “Oh… wow.” My stomach flipped. “Is that… good or bad?” She looked at me, surprised by my

Jane woke up earlier than she intended. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but her eyes were already open, and her heart raced with a mix of nerves, excitement, and a touch of fear, emotions swirling together like paint colors she hadn’t quite learned to untangle. Sitting on her bed for a moment, she placed her fingers gently against her chest. Training with Mira. It felt surreal. The events of the previous day had been overwhelming, Mira tweaking one of her sketches, then sending it off to Williams without warning, and the way he had looked at her afterward, as if she’d caught him off guard. Like he noticed something in her that she couldn't quite see in herself. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. She shook off her daydream and got dressed, a simple blouse, minimal makeup, and her hair neatly tied back. She aimed for an effortless look, not wanting to appear as if she were trying too hard while still wanting to feel that she belonged. As she entered the office, she held h

Jane hardly got any sleep. Not because she was scared this time. But from excitement. It felt like butterflies fluttering in her stomach, eager to burst free. By morning, she had changed her outfit twice before finally opting for a simple blouse and black trousers, professional, yet relaxed. She didn't want to come off as overzealous. When she arrived at the office floor, she anticipated silence. What she didn’t expect was to find Williams already waiting by his office door, coffee still in his hand, his gaze locked on the elevator as if he had been expecting her. “Good morning,” she greeted, trying to mask her anxiety. His jaw relaxed a bit. “You’re early.” “You are too,” she pointed out. He raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed?” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.” “Good.” His tone softened. “Feeling nervous?” “…a little,” she admitted. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “You’re capable of more than you realize.

Jane's POV Jane had anticipated a typical day. After everything she’d been through,the panic attacks, the hospital visit, breaking down in Williams’ arms,she longed for some peace. Just one day where she didn't have to struggle to breathe. So, she arrived at the office early, meticulously sorting through the files on her desk, keeping her head down as she tried to ease back into a routine that felt… comforting. But it seemed the universe had other plans for her. As soon as she finished arranging a stack of folders, the elevator pinged, and Mira stepped onto the floor,confident, fashionable, and radiating the vibrant energy of the creative department. Jane blinked in surprise. She found herself liking Mira much more than she anticipated. Their brief encounter the previous week had been pleasant and relaxed,Mira had dropped off some documents for Williams, praised Jane's neat handwriting, and casually invited her to "swing by the creative department anytime you’re feeling b

Jane's POV Returning to work felt oddly disconcerting, it was like stepping back into a familiar space that no longer felt like mine. Perhaps it was the exhaustion weighing me down, or the lingering ache in my chest from crying until my vision blurred. Or maybe it was simply the shift in everything after last night. After… him. The elevator dinged softly as it reached the executive floor, sending my heartbeat into a panicked rhythm. I wasn’t prepared for whispered conversations or prying gazes. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to navigate public breathing. But I stepped out anyway. And of course, they were already watching. Two assistants by the printer halted their chatter as they spotted me. A group at the far table exchanged furtive looks, and I caught the faint sound of my name followed by a pretend cough. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and gripped my bag a bit too tightly. They were undoubtedly curious about why the CEO continued to ke

Jane's POV Jane stirred awake to a gentle kind of silence, one that felt like a comforting blanket. No beeping machines, no hurried footsteps, and no heavy breathing next to her, just pure, soothing quiet. It took a moment for her to realize that she wasn’t back in her apartment, far from the chaos that had engulfed her life. Instead, she found herself in Williams’ guest room, wrapped snugly in a duvet that had the delicate scent of clean cotton mixed with something warm, perhaps him. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting soft golden lines on the wall. She blinked, her mind still hazy from the whirlwind of emotions the night before: the panic attack, the rushing tears, and Williams carrying her out of the hospital as if she were weightless. His voice echoed in her mind, reassuring her, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” She swallowed hard, her chest constricting at the memory, though it wasn’t fear that tightened her heart. It was some

Elara’s POV Celene was keenly observing me as I ate. Not in a blatant manner, nor was it rude. But I could feel it, her unwavering focus on my hands as I lifted the spoon to my mouth and the way her gaze lingered on my face while I swallowed. The breakfast hall was filled with a quiet calm, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and enveloping everything in a golden glow that seemed almost to mock me. I forced myself to take my time with each mouthful. As I usually would. With care. Every bite felt like I was putting on a show. “You barely ate yesterday,” Celene finally remarked, meticulously folding her napkin like a surgeon. “And today, you look unwell.” “I didn’t sleep well,” I responded, keeping my tone steady. She tilted her head, studying me. “You’ve never been one to be frail.” That word again. I held her gaze firmly. “Stress impacts people differently.” “Yes,” she replied gently. “That’s true.” Across the room, Damon stood in conversation with

Elara’s POV The wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. One second, I was in the western corridor, listening to two women argue quietly about fabric deliveries, and the next, my stomach clenched violently, as if something inside me had tightened into a fist. I froze. Not now. Not here. Heat surged in my throat. I pressed my hand against my mouth and pivoted sharply, trying to move quickly without attracting attention. The corridor felt interminable, the walls seemed too close, and the air was suffocating. Somehow, I just managed to reach the alcove before it overwhelmed me. Bending forward, I clutched the stone ledge as bile surged up. My body convulsed, painfully unyielding. I gagged, fighting to keep quiet as my eyes filled with tears. This had been happening more frequently. Mornings. Late afternoons. Sometimes, it was even triggered by the smell of food. I had told myself it was all the stress. The palace life. Celene. Damon. The unending feeling of being scrut

Elara’s POV The palace had recognized me. That was the first thing I sensed upon waking that morning. It was neither a shout nor an announcement—just an unspoken acknowledgment. Servants halted briefly as I walked by. Conversations dropped to hushed tones. Eyes lingered a half-second too long before darting away. Even the walls seemed to shift, as if the very hallways had started to lean in, eavesdropping on my presence. Once, not so long ago, I had called this place home before the lessons of freedom showed me that silence can be a choice rather than a burden. Back then, the palace had overlooked my existence entirely. Now, it was watching me. I dressed with care, opting for a pale blue gown with long sleeves and a high collar modest, unremarkable, and hard to fault. My reflection met me in the mirror, poised but weary. Dark circles under my eyes persisted, a testament to sleep that seemed forever elusive. As I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I murmured,

Elara’s POV I barely had a moment to gather my thoughts before Celene’s summons arrived. A maid appeared in my doorway, her face pale with apprehension, bowing so quickly that her braid swung forward. “Your Highness… the Princess Regent requests your presence right away.” Not “invites.” Not “asks.” Requests. A chill spread through my stomach. Of course, she wanted to see me after the embarrassment in the library, Morgana’s predatory stare, the hushed whispers from the nobles, Damon coming to my rescue like a knight in shining armor. Celene must have been fuming. I adjusted my dress, squared my shoulders, and followed the maid down the gleaming stone halls. Every footstep felt like a countdown. By the time we arrived at the small council chamber, Celene’s private space...my palms were clammy. The maid bowed once more and retreated as if the room were ablaze. I stepped inside slowly. Celene stood with her back to me, gazing out the tall windows that framed t

Elara’s POV The ballroom was thick with the scent of roses and burning candles. Rich velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling down to the marble floor. Emerald-hued candles flickered in gilded sconces, casting a soft glow that danced across shiny silver platters and polished goblets. This evening’s banquet was more than just a meal, it was a spectacle. Nobles from Averelle and Velmere had gathered to celebrate the anticipated unification, the promise of an engagement, the joining of two kingdoms. Soft melodies floated through the air while servants glided silently past, their footsteps muffled by the lavish carpets and opulence surrounding us. As I made my entrance, my throat tightened nervously. I was dressed in a deep burgundy velvet gown adorned with intricate silver embroidery that curled like delicate vines over my bodice and sleeves. The stylists had assured me that it would shimmer under the torchlight, making me appear regal, composed, and unattainable. A ripp

Elara’s POV By the time Celene pulled me up to the palace’s higher levels, my heart was still racing from Damon’s words. “You have me.” Those three quiet words reverberated inside me like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. A heartbeat I had no business feeling. Celene moved quickly, almost dragging me along the smooth corridor. I stumbled twice trying to keep pace. “Walk straight,” she snapped. “I am.....” “Don’t argue.” I fell silent. Celene only let go of my wrist when we arrived at the Mirror Chamber, a long, elegantly decorated room filled with tall mirrors, typically used for posture training and practicing public speaking for the royals. The room was mostly empty, with just two etiquette instructors and a scribe present. Celene pointed coolly. “Stand there.” I complied. She turned to the instructors. “We’ve been too lenient with her. Today she will focus on her public speaking, projection and carrying the presence of a queen.” She paused, her gaze piercing.