Novels by Colin Shaw

JuniperThe lobby of Vangough Tower had never felt like a battlefield before.Today, it did.Cameras.Live feeds.Financial reporters.Medical analysts.Influencers pretending to understand biotech litigation.The press conference hadn’t even officially started, and the air already tasted like blood.Xavier adjusted the cuff of his charcoal suit beside me.“You don’t have to answer every question,” he murmured.“I won’t,” I replied calmly.Across the room, my father stood with the board members. Controlled. Observing. Not interfering.Good.This was my war.The elevator doors opened.And Tristan Vale stepped out like he owned the building.Black suit.Perfect posture.That arrogant half-smile he wore when he thought he was about to win.Beside him—Victor Hale.For four years, I hadn’t seen him in person.He looked older. Thinner. Eyes sharper.Not nervous.Prepared.So this wasn’t desperation.This was planning.Tristan’s gaze found mine instantly.There it was.That flicker.Not con

JuniperI did not panic.Vangough heirs are not raised to panic.But as I stood in the penthouse, staring at Xavier after learning my father had funded Tristan, something unfamiliar pressed against my ribs.Doubt.“My father would never fund Tristan,” I said evenly.Xavier watched me carefully. “Your father doesn’t make impulsive investments.”“Exactly.”“Which means it wasn’t impulsive.”Across the skyline, Tristan’s factory lights burned again.Alive.Defiant.“How much?” I asked.“Two hundred and fifty million.”“That’s not emergency funding.”“No,” Xavier said quietly. “That’s insulation.”An hour later, I was standing in my father’s private study.He didn’t look surprised to see me.“You funded Tristan,” I said.“Yes.”No denial. No hesitation.“Why?”He poured tea. Calm. Controlled.“I assume you suspended his patent access.”“That’s irrelevant.”“It is the only relevant variable.”I stared at him.“You warned me about him.”“I warned you about emotional decision-making.”“This

JuniperThe boardroom did not intimidate me.Men did.Specifically, one.Tristan Hale stood at the center of the Vangough conference table as though he owned it.He had always stood like that — chin slightly lifted, voice smooth, confidence unearned but convincing.He didn’t notice the insignia behind the head chair.He didn’t notice the silence.He didn’t notice that everyone was watching me.“Director Hawthorne?” he said impatiently. “I don’t have time for theatrics.”I folded my hands on the table.“You’re right,” I said calmly. “You don’t.”His eyes landed on me.First irritation.Then confusion.Then recognition.Then disbelief.“You?”“Yes.”The room did not breathe.“You’re not authorized to be here,” he said coldly.A small smile curved my lips.“I’m not authorized?”Thomas slid the folder in front of him.Tristan didn’t touch it.He was staring at me like I had risen from the dead.“You were removed from all Hale-related filings,” I continued smoothly. “Including patent negot

Juniper The Vangough place? It was solid gold and sleek stone, way different from the crummy prison Tristan called home. When those gates groaned open, it felt like a ton of bricks lifted off me. I'd been walking on eggshells for four freakin' years, cooking food he wouldn't touch, cleaning floors he sneered at. I hid who I was, my skills, even my real name.But now? I was Juniper Vangough again."Welcome back, Miss Juniper," said Thomas, the head butler, bowing so low he nearly kissed the ground. The other servants were lined up, perfect as could be.I stared at my hands. Still ghostly. My body was still sore from that surgery Tristan ignored. Yet, a fire burned in my blood. "Good to be back, Thomas. My stuff from the hospital – it's in my wing?""Yes, Miss. Your father's waiting in the study."Walking through those halls, my heels clicked a war song against the stone. I pushed into the study and saw my dad, Marcus Vangough. Older, tougher than I remembered. A lion who'd seen too mu

Juniper“I knew it! You were a whore all along!” Tristan spat, snapping out of his daze and trying to pull his hand away from his assaulter. “A whore?” I laughed, the sound of my voice cold and sharp. “Tristan, you’ve spent four years sleeping in a separate room while I was busy building your empire. If I were a whore, I’d be the most expensive mistake you ever made. But luckily for me, I’m just a woman who finally remembered her own value.” Then I looked at Xavier, really looked at him, and found myself reacting to him. It had been four years since I saw him, and he looked gorgeous as ever, even hotter. I could see Rayna giving him seductive glances, which Tristan couldn't see, and trying to get his attention. “Xavier,” I called out, and he lowered his head in my direction. “Who is he, Juniper?! Tell me right now!” He demanded. I was surprised. One, at the fact that he even cared enough to be jealous. Two, at the fact that he didn't recognize Xavier. But that was to be expected.

Juniper“A divorce?” Tristan repeated, the words sounding cursed and offensive. Beside him, Rayna grinned. She was clearly enjoying this. “You never mattered to me anyway. If a divorce is what you want, a divorce is what you’ll get.” He said harshly, his response piercing into my heart like ice daggers. “You don’t care about him at all,” Rayna put in, addressing me for the first time since she came into the hospital. Wait, into the hospital. Did Tristan bring her to the hospital to have her checked up and only dropped by to see me out of convenience? What was I saying? He didn’t drop by to see me. He came to order me to take the fall for what I had no idea of. To spend six months in prison. Rayna went on, her body leaning coquettishly against Tristan now. Their actions made me nauseous. They weren’t even trying to hide it. They were rubbing their affair in my face.“If you care about him, you’ll help him clinch the contract with the Vangough conglomerate,” she said, and I instincti