Novels by Mfonabasi Akang

SYLVIE'S POV The walk back into the house felt longer than usual.Vivian moved beside me in silence, her steps unhurried, and her presence carrying a weight that had nothing to do with sound. I kept my eyes forward and told myself there was nothing to be unsettled about, it was likely just my insecurities—a lie I almost believed."This is the main foyer," I said as we stepped inside.Sunlight poured through the tall windows, fracturing across the chandelier and scattering light like broken glass over the marble floor. It was the kind of beautiful that usually made me pause. Today I barely registered it.Vivian didn't look around the way most people did—with wonder, or at least with the performance of it. Her eyes moved in slow, deliberate arcs. Cataloguing. Every door. Every staircase. Every corner that held a shadow."It's beautiful," she said."I heard Kael redesigned it a few years ago." The words left my mouth a beat too quickly, and I felt the smallness of the mistake immediatel

SYLVIE'S POV It didn't just begin. It swallowed me.It started with the sound of my own heartbeat—a wet, frantic thudding that echoed against walls I couldn't see. The air was thick, tasting of copper and old dust, pressing against my lungs until every breath became thick and suffocating.I ran, but the floor beneath my bare feet wasn't solid; it felt like cold, slick skin. The hallway was almost like a throat, narrowing and stretching with a sickening elasticity. Doors lined the passage like sightless eyes, their frames weeping a dark, oily substance that pooled around my ankles. Every time I reached for a handle, the brass turned to ice, burning my palms, and the wood groaned with a human-like whimper."Help!" I screamed, but the sound was instantly snatched away. The darkness didn't just obscure my vision; it felt sentient, stroking my hair and nipping at the heels of my feet.Then, the rhythm changed.*Thump. Drag. Thump. Drag.*The footsteps behind me were heavy enough to vibra

KAEL'S POV I woke up slowly, the room was thick with a silence broken only by the soft, rhythmic pull of her breathing. I didn't move. My gaze fixed on Sylvie where she lay curled beneath the soft velvet blankets, and I studied her the way a man studies a situation he suspects might be counterfeit with precision, and dread.For a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing, something dangerous stirred in my chest. Hope. It was quiet, almost shameful. Because if this was truly her, then every suspicion I had been nurturing would make me the worst kind of man.The faint morning light filtered through the curtains in thin strips, catching the dark hair spread loosely across her pillow. It gilded the delicate arch of her brow, the familiar curve of her lips, and the small, jagged scar near her temple that most people would never noticed, or have never thought to look for.It was, by every measurable account, Sylvie's face. Still, something deep within my chest refused to

KAEL'S POVThe television screen flickered with camera flashes and polished smiles as Darian stood tall and composed looking victorious with a 'Sylvie' by his sideMy expression didn't change but something inside me sharpened as John stood across from my desk, tablet in hand, waiting for my instruction.I muted the television and turned around slowly,Silence filled the room. "Explain this to me," I said calmly.John cleared his throat. "Sir, the press is saying Darian found her himself. He announced that the wedding will still be held.""I heard that. Tell me something else"I countered.My gaze returned briefly to the frozen image on the screen. Darian's hand rested at her waist, claiming her. She looked pale but steady. Fragile, yet strong at the same time.Convincing.Too convincing."How and when," I asked evenly, "did he find her?"John hesitated. "We don't have confirmation on that yet.""That's not what I asked for."I snapped, my voice dropping an octave.He straightened slightly

DARIAN'S POV The house flipped upside down in two days. Total chaos, but the good kind. The dining table is buried under piles of fabric scraps—silks, satins and all colors you could think of. Boards in the living room stuck full of flower sketches: roses, lilies, wild stuff mixed in. Designers everywhere, hauling garment bags down the halls. They talked low, excited, like kids with a secret. The wedding was finally off-hold with full steam ahead. I hung back in the fitting room doorway, arms crossed tight with my phone in hand, thumb swiping emails. The Truth? I hadn't read one word in five minutes. My eyes were glued to Sylvie, who was standing in the center with the designer fussing with the last stitches on her dress. She looked... damn. Cream white, not that fake bright stuff, which hugged her waist just right, then dropped soft to the floor, The neckline showed her collarbone, a delicate, pretty curve, pretty as hell. Lace up the arms felt handmade, like art.She spun

DARIAN'S POVThe house had never felt this alive.For a week it had been empty and cold, and every hallway echoed with her absence, every room a sharp reminder of how she used to fill the space. Now the air felt warmer, buzzing with frantic energy.She sat beside me on the sofa, her hand resting lightly in mine. Around us, the PR team moved like a controlled storm, and phones rang constantly, laptops clicked, and assistants hovered with tablets, their voices dropping to urgent whispers."She needs rest," one of them said, glancing at Sylvie's pale face."I'm fine," Sylvie replied softly, though her fingers clenched against my palm. Her voice still had that fragile edge, like glass that had been dropped but hadn't quite broken. It made something fierce and protective rise in my chest.I squeezed her hand and looked up at the room. "We'll keep this interview short," I said firmly, my voice cutting through the noise. "I just want to talk to the public and shut down the rumors."And I wa