Novels by tabbiedanjuma007

Xavier's POVThe rain on the towering glass of my executive suite doesn’t sound like water, rather it sounds like gravel being thrown against a window by someone desperate to get my attention.I stand with my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my trousers, staring out at the grey, choked skyline of the city. Down there, people are rushing beneath umbrellas, small and insignificant, worrying about train schedules and dry cleaning. They don’t know what it feels like to have thirty billion dollars resting on the bridge of their nose, threatening to snap the bone.My reflection in the glass is a joke. The sharp, custom-tailored silhouette of Xavier Adrian looking intact, but the man inside is starting to fray. My jaw is tight, the muscles along my cheek bunching rhythmically."Gerald," I say, my voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Tell me the audit committee hasn't flagged the Hadley accounts yet."Gerald doesn't answer immediately. When I turn, I see him sitting on the edge of the leather so

"Ninety million dollars," I say, the words falling between us like heavy, solid gold coins. My voice is as steady as a perfect, chilling flatline. "Transferred to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. Fifty percent upon the signing of our preliminary agreement, and the remaining fifty when the Hadley papers are in your hands along with an ironclad contract for the position of Vice President of Operations here at Northstar."Eliot doesn't move, he doesn't smile either and for a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the vast, sterile office is the faint, rhythmic hum of the air conditioning. He stands perfectly still, his eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign of a tremor, any flicker of weakness in my posture."Ninety million," he repeats, his voice dropping into a dangerously low, gravelly register. "And a seat at my right hand. You have a very high opinion of your worth, Aurora.""I know exactly what I am worth, Eliot, and I know what Xavier’s ruin is worth to you."H

The lobby of Northstar Holdings hasn’t grown any warmer since my last visit. It is still that temple of polished black granite and cold, blinding light, designed to make anyone who enters feel small. But today, the rhythmic ‘click-click-click’ of my Louboutins across the stone doesn't feel like a countdown to an execution. It feels more like a march to a coronation.The last time I was in this building, I only offered Eliot Crane a glimpse of the weapon. I showed him the encrypted folders, the unredacted files, and the screenshots on my phone…proof that I held the keys to Xavier’s empire. He was skeptical then, demanding more, asking the predictable questions: ‘Does Xavier know you’re here? How did you get access to his private terminals?’ Well, today, I am back to give him the answers. And the blade of course."Mr. Crane is expecting you already" the secretary says, her voice a modulated, polite purr. I offer her a cool, practiced smile and step into the private elevator. The ascent

The air inside the penthouse is thick, suffocating with the rich, heavy scent of amber, expensive single-malt scotch, and the distinct, sour metallic tang of absolute panic. It is a beautiful playground of glass and white marble, suspended high above the glittering, uncaring expanse of Manhattan, but tonight it feels like a gilded cage. My cage…until I decide to unlock the door and walk out, leaving it to burn."They’re going to ruin me, Aurora. Every single line of credit will be frozen…just like that." Xavier’s voice is a jagged whisper, stripped of the booming authority he usually wields in the boardroom. He is sitting on the edge of the Italian leather sofa, his head buried in his hands. He looks smaller now, he's probably lost a lot of weight. The invincible, arrogant billionaire who once looked down on the world is vibrating with a terror so raw it makes a delicious, warm thrill bloom deep in my chest.I swallow the smirk rising to my lips, smoothing my features into an expressi

The steam in the master bathroom did not just rise; it hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating veil, damp with the scent of my vanilla perfume and the metallic tang of his bottled fury.Behind that frosted glass door, the water was a deafening roar, a relentless, pounding downpour that felt less like a shower and more like a storm trapped inside marble walls.I stood in the center of our bedroom, my hands trembling so violently that the silk of my robe rustled against my thighs with a dry, whispering sound. My chest heaved with shallow, desperate breaths. “He is beginning to know.” The realization felt like a drop of liquid nitrogen pouring straight down my throat, freezing my organs, halting the very beat of my heart. I force myself to walk toward the vanity, my bare feet sinking into the plush Persian rug, but there was no comfort in the luxury anymore. I gripped the edge of the marble sink, staring at my reflection in the steam-fogged mirror. My face looking pale as ever…my eye

POV: AuroraThe tea was perfectly hot. It was an imperial Earl Grey, brewed for exactly four minutes, sitting in a delicate porcelain cup that had belonged to my grandmother before Xavier Adrian took everything we owned.I sat in the morning room, watching the sunlight play across the high plastered ceilings. The light was beautiful today, casting long, golden rectangles across the Persian rug. The penthouse is completely quiet like a peaceful sanctuary in the middle of the roaring city where the servants had been dismissed for the morning and I had given them all a paid holiday to celebrate a quiet family milestone. They had thanked me profusely, smiling and wishing me a wonderful day, thinking I was being sweet and generous but what they didn't understand was that an execution requires a clean, empty room. They didn't know that silence is the best canvas for a confession.The front door didn't just open; it slammed. The heavy oak frame shuddering against the limestone walls, the sou