Novels by Nessa

Rachel POV Warmth. Soft sheets. A faint, familiar cologne. My mind drifted in a hazy fog, caught between sleep and memory. My body felt heavy, limbs foreign. I breathed in shakily, my eyes fluttering open. Dim light from a bedside lamp painted soft shadows on the walls. This wasn’t my room. My chest tightened. Where was I? Then, it all slammed back into me. The alley. Rough hands grabbing me. The necklace being ripped Hot blood on my face A gunshot Damien’s icy voice The man falling My own scream I jerked upright with a sharp gasp. A shadow moved in the corner. My breath hitched. Panic exploded behind my ribs. Damien. He sat in a chair near the bed, his coat draped over the back, shirtsleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted, his expression unreadable, but the anger wasn't for me. Just the sight of him made my hands shake. I tried to sit up ta

Rachel POVI didn’t know how long I had been running.Hours, maybe.My feet throbbed. My lungs burned. The sun had already slipped from afternoon gold into the soft grey of evening by the time I burst out of the forest and stumbled onto a cracked highway road.When I looked up, I saw it:Lights.Cars.People.A city.My knees almost buckled.I hugged myself and forced my tired body forward. My clothes were dirty from climbing the wall, my hair tangled, and my palms still stung from where the vines had cut me.But I was free.For the first time in weeks, I could choose where I went.I wiped my cheeks and stepped into the noise of the street. Neon signs buzzed above me. Cars honked. Strangers brushed past without a second glance.It felt unreal.Almost like a dream.I just need a phone, I told myself.I just need to call Dad. Or Marcus. Anyone. Then I can leave this country and disappear.I kept walking, head lowered, trying to blend into the crowd.Everything felt so unfamiliar, so lou

Rachel POVI didn’t sleepHow could I?Locked in this room, guards posted outside my door, my phone taken… every choice had been ripped from my hands.By sunrise, I sat curled beside the window, staring at the horizon as tears slid silently down my cheeks. I kept wiping them away, as if hiding them would lessen the ache.I had truly sold myself to the Devil.And now I was trapped.A soft knock broke through my thoughts.“…Mama?”I turned.Leo peeked from the doorway, dressed in his blue pyjamas, a shy smile on his face. He slipped inside, his tiny hands twisting nervously.His eyes lifted to mine, wide and worried.“Did Papa make you sad?”The question cut straight through me. I walked toward him and knelt, pulling him into my arms.“No, sweetheart,” I whispered, a lie that my tears betrayed.He hugged me tighter, as if afraid letting go would make me disappear.After a moment, he tugged on my sleeve.“Do you want to go to the garden with me? Just me and you. Please?”I froze.Damien’

Rachel POV“Family dinner?” I repeated, staring at Mr Vance from my doorway.He nodded. “Yes, Mrs Montrel. Young Master Leo specially requested it. He wants you there.”I blinked. Leo never asked for something like this. We usually ate quietly in his room, just the two of us.“Will… Damien be there too?” I asked carefully.Mr Vance sighed. “Leo hopes so. But you know how the Boss is. He’s always busy.”I let out a quiet breath of relief. “Alright. I’ll be down soon.”---The dining hall stunned me the moment I walked in.Candles glowed softly across a long, beautifully prepared table. Warm food, spices, and a hint of fresh bread filled the air.Leo saw me first.“Mama! Sit here!” he laughed, patting the chair beside him.I smiled and sat. “You set all this up?”Leo puffed his chest proudly. “Yes! I did everything!”Mr Vance gave a subtle eye roll. Definitely not true.Leo leaned toward me, whispering loudly, “We just need Papa now… I hope he comes.”I gave him a small smile, secretly

Rachel POV I tore through the large drawer, pushing aside endless layers of clothes before rushing across the room. My college books and worn textbooks sat stacked on the desk, waiting. I shoved them into my tote, a nervous excitement buzzing under my skin. My phone sat on the cosy, oversized bed, my father’s voice crackling through the speaker. “I hope he’s treating you well,” Dad said, his tone thick with worry. “I guess,” I murmured, grabbing my skirt and tugging it on. “He hasn’t done anything. In fact, I haven’t even seen him these past few days. He’s rarely around. Unlike his son.” “Son?” came my father’s confused reply. I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Apparently, the mafia king has a little boy. He calls me ‘Mama.’ It’s… strange.” The line went silent for a moment as I brushed my hair and sat at the vanity. My reflection looked composed—a stark lie my frantic pulse betrayed. “I-I’m sorry, Rachel,” Dad said suddenly, his voice cracking. “This is all my fault.”

The room fell quiet after Mr Vance’s words. “Mrs Montrel, meet Master Leo.” For a moment, neither of us moved. Leo stared at me, small and still, his wide hazel eyes full of curiosity. Mr Vance cleared his throat gently. “We’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” he said, gesturing for the younger man to follow. As they reached the doorway, Mr Vance leaned closer and murmured, “He needs a mother, Mrs Montrel. Not another caretaker.” Then he left, closing the door softly behind him. The silence that followed was awkward and delicate. Leo fidgeted with a toy car, pretending not to look at me. I stood frozen, shocked that Damien Montrel, the feared mafia boss, had a son no one had ever heard about. I forced myself to move. Crouching down, I tried not to seem too forward. “Hey there,” I said gently. “You’ve got quite the collection of toys.” He didn’t answer. His little lips pressed together in a pout. After a pause, he asked, almost accusingly, “Are you another nanny?