Novels by Gemma D. Nash

“Mommy, you’re going to be late.”“I’m not going to be late,” I replied, reaching across the kitchen counter to slide a plate toward Alice. “I’m managing my time.”“You said that yesterday,” she pointed out, narrowing her eyes slightly. “And then you were late.”I paused mid-step, then sighed. “That was one time.”“It was two times,” she corrected, already picking up her fork.I glanced at Ace over her head. He was seated at the table, coffee in hand, watching the exchange with quiet amusement that he wasn’t even trying to hide.“You’re not helping,” I told him.“I’m not interfering,” he replied calmly. “There’s a difference.”“She’s ganging up on me.”“I’m being accurate,” Alice said, her tone firm as she took a bite of her pancake.I crossed my arms. “You’re seven.”“I’m right,” she said through a mouthful of food.Ace huffed out a quiet laugh, setting his cup down. “She has a point.”I stared at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”“I am on your side,” he said. “I’m just not wi

The first time I got married, I didn’t choose it.Not really.I told myself I did. I convinced myself it was love, that it was history, that it was something inevitable and right. But looking back now, standing barefoot on the grass with the evening sun settling softly over the estate, I understood the difference.That wedding had been performance.This… wasn’t.“Mommy, you’re not listening.”Alice’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I blinked down at her where she stood in front of me, hands on her hips in a way that was far too familiar.“I am listening,” I said, smiling faintly. “You said the flowers are uneven.”“They are uneven,” she insisted, turning to point at the small arrangement set up near the edge of the garden. “That one is higher than the other one, and it’s bothering me.”I followed her gaze, studying the flowers.They were slightly uneven.“You’re right,” I admitted.“I know,” she said, nodding with full confidence. “We have to fix it before Daddy gets here.”I

The detention center didn’t look the way I expected it to.There was no dramatic weight to it. No sense of finality carved into the walls. Just clean floors, muted colors, and a silence that felt procedural rather than emotional. It was a place built for processing, not reflection.Still, something about it pressed against my chest as I stepped inside.“Name?” the officer at the front desk asked without looking up.“Lily.”His pen paused mid-stroke. His eyes flicked up briefly, recognition passing across his face before it was quickly masked. “You’re expected,” he said, setting the pen down. “This way.”Of course I was.Nothing about this was accidental.I followed him down a long corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoing faintly. The further we walked, the quieter it became, like the building was swallowing noise the deeper we went.“Three separate requests were made,” he added as we stopped in front of a secured door. “You can choose who you see first.”“Willow,” I said.The offi

The studio lights were warmer than I expected.Not harsh. Not blinding. Just steady enough to make everything feel deliberate, controlled—like nothing existed outside the space they illuminated. The kind of environment where words didn’t slip accidentally. They were placed. Measured. Recorded.Permanent.I sat across from the interviewer, my hands resting loosely in my lap, my posture straight but not rigid. The chair was comfortable, but I didn’t let myself sink into it. Comfort had a way of softening edges, and I needed mine intact.“You’re sure you don’t want water?” the producer asked quietly from the side.“I’m fine,” I replied.He nodded and stepped back.Across from me, the interviewer—calm, polished, practiced—offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll take this at your pace,” she said. “There’s no pressure to answer anything you’re not comfortable with.”“I understand,” I said.There was a brief pause as final adjustments were made. A microphone clipped. A camera angle checked

By the next morning, the world had already decided who I was.I didn’t need to open my phone to know that. I could feel it in the way the air inside the house had shifted—tenser, heavier, like even the walls were bracing for impact. Still, I opened it anyway, because avoiding it wouldn’t change anything.The headlines came in waves.GRANT HEIR SCANDAL EXPLODESKIDNAPPING, CORPORATE FRAUD, AND A SECRET CHILDWHO IS LILY?I stared at the last one longer than I should have.Who is Lily?The question wasn’t curious. It was invasive. Hungry.I scrolled.Victim.Manipulative opportunist.Gold digger.Survivor.Liar.The words blurred together until they stopped meaning anything and started feeling like pressure against my chest.“She shouldn’t even be near that child.”My thumb froze.I reread the comment slowly, my stomach tightening.“She shows up out of nowhere and suddenly she’s the mother? Please.”A sharp knock sounded against the bedroom door before it opened without waiting for perm

The cameras started flashing before we even reached the podium.By morning, the story had fractured across every network—kidnapping, corporate scandal, socialite matriarch in handcuffs. The Grant name had become a headline instead of a legacy, and for once, the narrative wasn’t being controlled behind closed doors.Ace had called the press conference himself.Not a statement through legal counsel.Not a controlled leak.Not silence.A conference.The ballroom of the Grant headquarters had been transformed overnight into a media arena. Reporters packed shoulder to shoulder, microphones branded with logos angled toward the stage, eyes sharp with anticipation. They wanted blood, denial, spin.They weren’t going to get any of that.I stood just behind the curtain with Alice in my arms. She was quiet, unusually so, her fingers wrapped around a loose strand of my hair as if anchoring herself. She had barely slept. Neither had I. But she felt solid against me—warm, alive, safe—and that was e

I heard him coming down the stairs behind me, and I couldn't help the chuckle escaping me. I didn't turn around until he was right beside me, a scowl on his face. “I take it that you are definitely not going out to the pool party to save me from your girlfriend’s friends, then.”He shook his head, though I thought I saw a small wince at the corner of his eyes. "It's a good day for a swim," was his only response as he walked right past me, into the kitchen, and then out back. Martha was no longer there. She must have found their presence suffocating. And honestly, anyone would. I was only doing this because I thought Jordan needed to be outside rather than alone, no matter who he had to spend the time with. And I really did think he needed to have a conversation with Heather after everything that had gone down, chest pain or not.I almost had a rethink when I stepped out of the back door, their squeals reaching me. Their number had multiplied beyond imagination. There were a lot of

“Jordan?” he called by the door before it pushed open slowly. I raised my head from where I sat on the bed, my head previously buried in my hands. When the door closed behind him, he just stood there, watching me. It was strange that despite how much I'd tried to push him away, he was still here. It was a shitty thing for me to have done that, the way I did it. But that was the problem. I usually didn't stop long enough to think about what my actions might make another person feel. Call it the one thing I'd learned from my family; the one thing our name had given me. There was almost always someone around picking up the slack. I never had to worry.When I was in grade school, I remembered all the times I broke a person’s toy, spoke rudely to a teacher, left school in the middle of the day to go play with my friends…there was never punishment from the school.No one dared make a fuss about it. After all, I was an Arthur.And then, I became an adult. I wanted my parents' love, but all

It spread through every inch of the house even though the door had only opened half a second ago. A huge frown settled on Martha’s face as she tried to see what was going on out there, craning her neck.But there was really no need to because she let herself into the kitchen, smelling like she just had a head collision with Chanel. She had a smile on her face that had to be a lot for someone who just found out their sister was sleeping with their boyfriend. Yet again, trying to understand how Heather reasoned was like trying to find out what structure existed at the ends of the earth. “Ms. Callaghan,” Martha said in a clipped tone, getting to her feet. “To what do we owe this honor? The apathy was heavy in her tone. So heavy that I was curious to know the story, because water must have definitely passed under the bridge. "Oh, please," she murmured, waving her away. "I practically have access to anywhere the Arthurs live. And besides, Marv invited me. He told me Jordan would love to

We walked side-by-side all the way to his family’s house in JAR, and all the while, that grin never left his face. The silence was comfortable. Sweet even. He still looked sad. Of course he would, considering the fact that he’d just lost his younger sister. But other than that, he looked at peace.Yes. Peace. That was the word.At intervals, he took his hands out of his pockets, letting them sway gently by his side. There were a few seconds when our fingers brushed, when I had the wildest of imaginations that he would take my hand in his. The first time the thought hit, I closed my eyes to imagine what that would actually look like. It was warm, and so scary, at least in my head. And then, Jordan ruined it with his scoff. “What?” I muttered, opening my eyes.He shrugged. "You looked like you were doing yoga. Aiden does shit like that, and it cracks me up."“Aiden?”“Mhmm,” he nodded. “My best friend. Annoying as hell, but a really good person. I still think he’d eat you for breakfa

I wasn't sure I would meet him there, and honestly, I probably wasn't thinking straight. Yet, there I was in my pants and a properly tucked-in shirt, standing at JAR's entrance. Either one of two things could happen. Or even both.One, the men at the gates might not let me in, just like the last time. And secondly, my brother might bump into me. I didn’t know which was worse. Still, I walked up the gates, breathing through my parted lips. “Erm…I…I’m here to see…”“Come on in,” one of them muttered, stepping out of the way. For a minute, I just stood there, frozen to the spot. Did he really just ask me to come in? Did he know I was still the same person as before? Gary’s brother.“Did you change your mind, dude?”I blinked. “No. No. I …thank you.”Before they changed their mind and asked me to get the hell out of their property, I rushed in, my feet scurrying along until I had put as much distance as possible between them and me. I slowed down when I walked past the café, realizing I a

Anna didn't wait for me to move before skipping to the door like she owned the house. She probably did, with the way my parents and even Gary, who was very closed off to people who weren't his friends, had accepted her as a part of the household.I knew I should stop her; cook up any excuse why she shouldn’t answer the door. Yet, I just stood there by the dining table, watching her retreating figure and the spring in her steps. I knew who it was. “Who’s that?” she called, her feet shuffling towards the door. I couldn’t see her anymore, but I heard the door open. And most definitely heard the sharp gasp leave her. “Erm…Marcus?" Anna was in front of me in no time, her eyes wide with surprise. "You didn't tell me he was going to be coming here for the car," she whispered rapidly, her eyes almost reaching her hairline. "Did you forget to include that part, or are you now keeping secrets from me? How does he even know where you bloody live? Marcus, I…"I never got to answer her because,