Novels by Damian Stacey

Sunlight poked through the heavy velvet curtains the next morning, but it felt like needles pressing into my eyes. My head was thumping with a rhythm that matched the dull ache in my bones, and every time I tried to swallow, it felt like I was gulping down broken glass.I tried to sit up, but my world spun in a dizzying circle of cream-colored walls and expensive furniture. I was shivering, even though my skin felt like it was on fire. The clock on the bedside table read 9:00 AM."Oh no," I croaked, my voice sounding like a rusted gate. "University..."Today was my first day of classes. My dream of starting fresh at a top-tier London school was supposed to begin today, but my body had other plans. The cold rain and the long walk in the dark had finally caught up with me.A soft knock at the door made me jump, and then it swung open. My mom and Arthur walked in, still dressed in their elegant clothes from the night before, looking like they had just stepped off a private jet."Isabel?

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind me, muffled by the relentless thrum of the rain against the stone walls of the manor. I was a total disaster. Water pooled around my ruined heels, and Jax’s oversized flannel shirt was heavy and sodden, clinging to my shivering frame. Every step I took across the pristine marble foyer sounded like a wet sponge hitting a countertop. Squish. Squish.I was halfway to the grand staircase when a sharp voice cut through the shadows."Stop right there! Are you trying to ruin the hard work we did cleaning the floors?"I froze. It was a girl, one of the younger maids who always looked like she had just stepped out of a Victorian painting perfectly pressed in her uniform and perpetually annoyed. She marched toward me, pointing a finger at the trail of muddy water I’d left behind."Do you have any idea how long it takes to wax this marble?" she hissed, her face twisted in a scowl. "You come in here looking like something the cat dragged in from the gutter

This ride back to the Sterling manor was supposed to feel like a victory lap. I had survived the cameras, handled the sharks, and saved the project. But inside the Bentley, it felt like I was being transported to a high-security prison.William sat in the driver’s seat, his face looking like it had been carved out of stone. He didn’t look at me once. He just stared at the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel."You realize," he finally said, his voice a low, scary growl that made my stomach flip, "that what you did today wasn't saving anything. It was a disaster.""The stock price went up, William!" I snapped back. My heart was still racing from the adrenaline. "The reporters were actually smiling. People like the project now! How is that a disaster?""Because you promised them the impossible, Isabel!" He finally looked at me, his honey-colored eyes flashing like fire. "A three-month deadline to start construction? We don't have the permits. We don't have the builders. W

A reporter in the front row, a woman with a sharp bob and a notebook that looked like a weapon, stood up first."Miss Mayfield, let’s be real. Sterling Global has a history of Community beautification projects that just end up being excuses for luxury condos.” “Why should the people of this neighborhood believe a single tree is actually going to be planted?"I leaned into the mic, my voice steady "Because this isn't a charity project; it’s a self-sustaining ecosystem. We’re using the underground parking as a hidden engine. The revenue from those spaces doesn't go into a CEO’s pocket, it goes back into the soil. It pays for the gardeners, the lights, and the security. If the park dies, the project fails. “We need it to thrive as much as the neighborhood does."I saw a few reporters actually stop mid-scribble. They liked that. It made sense. It was smart.But then, a guy in the back, a total shark with a voice that sounded like gravel, stood up. He didn't look impressed."That’s a ni

Fifty-nine minutes. That was all the time I had before my life either became a success or crashed and burned in front of a dozen TV cameras. I hurried away from William’s office, my heart thumping against my ribs. I didn’t even know what the crisis actually was about. Was the company in trouble? Was William in trouble? I felt like I was walking into a trap, and I had no idea how to get out. I ducked into a small breakroom, desperate for a glass of water. "You look like you're about to see a ghost. Or maybe you just saw William’s coffee bill. Either way, you should probably sit down." I jumped, nearly spilling water all over my blazer. Sitting in the corner was a guy who looked like he lived on energy drinks and computer screens. He had messy curls and thick glasses, and he was wearing a hoodie under a blazer that was definitely too big for him. He looked like the kind of guy who could hack into a bank but forgot to brush his hair. "I'm Isabel," I said, trying to stop my ha

The hallway felt way too quiet after William walked away. I stood there for a long time, leaning against the cold stone wall, just trying to remember how to breathe. The fancy blue silk dress my mom had been so excited about? It didn’t feel like a gift anymore. It felt like a costume I was forced to wear—a constant reminder that William thought I was just a "gold-digger" in a disguise. I looked down at my shoes. They were just plain, worn-out flats I’d polished until the scuffs almost disappeared. They were the same ones that had gotten me through twelve-hour shifts back in Brooklyn. In this house of marble and glass, they looked like trash. When I finally made it to my room, my fingers fumbled with the tiny silk buttons on the back. They felt like traps. As soon as the fabric hit the floor, I stepped out of it like it was on fire. I yanked on my massive, oversized college hoodie and a pair of faded leggings my real skin, the type of clothing I feel most comfortable in. I stared at