Novels by Intana Meisya

Rebecca's POV The applause started quietly at first. A few hesitant claps from the back of the hall. Then more joined in, growing steadily until the sound filled the entire space. I stood there, hands clasped in front of me, trying not to let my relief show too obviously. When the applause finally died down, I stepped off the platform. Gideon was there immediately, his hand finding the small of my back. "Well done," he said quietly. "I didn't trip," I said. "That too." The rest of the evening passed in a blur of faces and conversations and more wine than I actually drank. By the time the last guests filtered out, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. Maddie found me near the end, her own face tired but pleased. "You survived," she said. "Barely." "That counts." Maddie squeezed my hand. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be even worse." "Worse?" "You're Queen now," Maddie said. "The work doesn't stop." She was right. The next morning started before dawn. An attend

Rebecca's POV The coronation gown felt like someone else's skin. I stood in front of the mirror in the Queen's chambers—my chambers now, technically, though I still couldn't think of them that way—and stared at the woman reflected back at me. Heavy silk the color of midnight spilled from my shoulders to the floor, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light when I moved. The circlet I'd worn during the announcement had been replaced with something heavier. More permanent. A crown. "Stop fidgeting," Maddie said from behind me, adjusting the fall of my sleeves for the third time. "I'm not fidgeting." "You are. You've been twisting that ring for the past five minutes." I looked down. My fingers had found Gideon's ring without conscious thought, turning it slowly around and around. "Sorry," I muttered. Maddie's hands stilled on my shoulders. "You don't have to apologize. You're allowed to be nervous." "I'm not nervous." "You're terrified," Maddie said. "Which is comple

Rebecca's POV I pulled back slightly, my fingers still wrapped around his. "I'm going to tell her." Gideon's eyes searched mine. "You're sure?" "I'm sure." He nodded once, then helped me to my feet. My legs were steadier now, though my heart still pounded like I'd just run through the entire palace. We walked back through the corridors, passing guards who straightened at Gideon's presence, passing servants who bowed their heads. None of them knew yet. None of them had any idea what I was about to do. When we reached the Queen's chambers, the guards stepped aside without question. Gideon squeezed my hand once before releasing it. I nodded and stepped inside alone. "Rebecca," the Queen said. "I didn't expect you back so soon." "I've made my decision," I said. The Queen's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her eyes. Wariness, maybe. Or hope. I couldn't tell. "And?" she asked. I took a breath. "I'll do it. I'll accept the throne." The Queen stared at me for a

Rebecca's POV I didn't need a truth serum after all. The thought struck me as Gideon and I walked through the corridors, his arm steady around my waist. All that work, all those careful measurements and ingredients, and in the end, the Queen had just… told me. No coercion. No magic. Just raw, painful honesty between two people who'd been enemies. I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. About being alone. About everyone wanting something from her. I'd felt that betrayal too. When I found out about Rhys. When the person I'd trusted most had been working against me the whole time. That hollow, sickening feeling of realizing the ground beneath you was never solid to begin with. But the Queen had lived with that for years. Decades, maybe. Every conversation calculated. Every smile measured. Never knowing who wanted the woman behind the crown versus the crown itself. My mother had done that to her. My mother, who I'd thought of as kind and brilliant and good, had betrayed her

Rebecca's POV The Queen turned away, her shoulders trembling slightly. "Do you know why I outlawed love potions?" "You told the court it was because they violate consent," I said carefully. "Because they're dangerous." "That's the truth I gave them," the Queen said. "But it's not the only truth." My pulse quickened, a strange mix of dread and curiosity tightening in my chest. "Your mother," the Queen said softly. "Isabelle. She was my friend once. Did I mention that?" "You did." "We were young together," the Queen continued, her voice quieter now. "Before the crown. Before the weight of this place crushed everything soft out of me. She was brilliant. Kind. Reckless in the best way. And I trusted her." Her lips curved into something that might have been a smile once, but wasn't anymore. "I couldn’t give the King an heir. Years of trying, and still… nothing. The court whispered. The council pressed. And the King…" She faltered, eyes distant. "He grew distant." For a long moment

Rebecca's POV The visits started the next morning. Alaina came first, slipping through the door with a basket of fresh bread and a worried smile. She sat beside me for a while, talking about nothing important—the weather, the gardens, how the palace kitchens had been in chaos since the tea party incident. "Everyone's been asking about you," Alaina said. "The whole court knows what you did." "I'm sure they have opinions," I muttered. "They do," Alaina admitted. "But most of them are... impressed. You saved the Queen's life." I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just nodded. After Alaina left, the knights’ wives began trickling in. They came now with small gifts and softer voices, concern written openly on their faces. There was no polite distance, no measuring glances meant to weigh my worth. Only relief. Only care. “We heard what happened,” one of them said gently, setting a bundle of flowers beside my bed. “You scared us,” another added, her mouth tilting into a fond,

Years later...The wedding vows that had been taken, would always be the binding between us. We had built a prosperous and peaceful family together during our ten years of marriage.I am grateful to have two children, Adrian and Skylar.Adrian Ainsley, aged nine, had become an older brother who loves his younger sister, Skylar. He really became a big brother for her.His face is not the same bit as mine, but with his father. Sometimes I got annoyed by comments from people who never realized my resemblance to him.They often said that none of my children look like me. Even my lovely baby, Skylar. She's 99 percent like her father, only different genders."Look mom, I have a new word to tell you." Adrian came over to me with his favorite basketball between his right arm.I don't know where his hobbies come from, but he really likes playing basketball. Barra and I don't

He doesn't understand!He doesn't get it at all!My thoughts about marriage had changed. If I used to think of a beautiful wedding like in the world of fairy tale, now I wasn't thinking the same anymore. I became to think differently. I was terrified just thinking about marriage.Especially after clearly knowing the details of what happened in past. My own parents' marriage did not go smoothly.It was so toxic and full of cruel twists. Rose Ozza, my mother, or Yolanda may be strong in facing their ordeal, but it was different for me. I got fragile easily and now I scared so much.I was afraid that Barra would leave me for a better and worthy one. I got so fed up just thinking about other women had the edge over me.I'm a woman and of course, wanting the same thing all women wants, to get married.A sacred event that I wanted to happen once in my life and with the ri

All problems had found a bright spot. Then what now?Haytham and Alia had returned to their mansion and living their lives as before.I gave Ronald and Elsa a day off as a token of gratitude for helping me all this time, while Jake ... that guy was busy running his single life by becoming a player. He dated different women every week, I didn't even know their names.As for Jazzlin, I asked her to stay with me, in the mansion. Everything felt lonely when she was not there, around me. So, we decided to stay together from now on.I looked at her whole face. She looked innocent with her eyes closed. I pushed aside the strands of hair when it covered her face, then looked at her again.A smile appeared on my face, imagining how lucky I was to finally with her again.I put my head on the pillow, tilted my face closer to her.Her breath blew to me as her hand was right in

"Principessa?" Barra's voice assured me that I'm still alive.I was so limp as I opened my eyes. My hand had its way to my face. I shut my mouth closed while I yawned."Glad to see you wake up again." His words made me chuckle."Hmmm, you're still waiting for me? I thought Moorah already stole you from me."His face frowned when I mentioned Moorah's name, "I'm just kidding." I laughed out loud, "Besides, I know who you love. That person is me and not another woman."He gave me his best smile, "Oh yeah?" His finger poked my nose."Auch! Stop it." I tried to reach his finger. The more I couldn't get it, the more he kept teasing me. He kept poking my nose, every time I tried to stop him.He chuckled, "I win and you lose." He told me then showing me his thumbs down."I hate you." Hearing my answer, he moved closer to me. He pulled the strands of my hair

It was like dejavu. I brought her back to my mansion. It was like the old time, I sat waiting for her to wake up.The last time she was unconscious was because she attempted suicide. I didn't realize she'd woken up again, but with someone else's spirit, Janielle.Now she was unconscious again, and I gripped her soft hand with hope filled my heart.The doctor said she was just passed out, but it had been hours and she hadn't opened her beautiful eyes yet.I remembered how terrified I got when I was told that she was unconscious because she had tried to kill herself.At that time the feeling of regret got me. I wasn't there when she needed me. Then now, I was by her side and still couldn't take care of her.(Flashback to chapter one from Barra's point of view)It had been a long time since I met my old friend, Jazzlin Ozza. The news about the woman was circulating in

I had to tell my truth to Jazzlin's father, so he would forgive his daughter. He used to love her so much, but because of this ... everything had changed.Haytham insisted on joining us to Jeremy Ozza's penthouse, even though at first Barra didn't want him there. They both tried to dominate each other, but they just ended up falling in a cold war for a moment.When I was right in front of the penthouse, my palms got cold. I rubbed my itchy eyes then prepared myself once more.I was so restless and it really made me want to pee. Before the others got inside, I had already rushed in there to find a restroom.I went into one of the restrooms and immediately peed. The sound of footsteps made me stop my next action."Jazzlin, are you in there?"My lips pouted when I noticed it was Moorah.For God's sake, I don't like her so why does she keep walking around in my life ?

Olivia's POV "I handle it fine," I said. "You're the one following me outside." Jolie walked forward until she was standing a few feet away. She took a sip of her wine, her movements precise and controlled. "Gabriel is a good man," she said. "He deserves someone who understands his world. Someone who has been part of it." "Someone like you," I said flatly. "Yes." Jolie didn't even try to hide it. "We grew up together. Our families built empires side by side. I know him. I know what he needs." "You know what everyone expects him to need," I corrected. "That's not the same thing." Jolie's smile was thin. "You are a distraction. An entertaining one, I will admit. But Gabriel will tire of the noise. He always does." "Then you have nothing to worry about," I said. I turned to face her fully. "If I'm just noise, if I'm just a distraction, then why are you out here threatening me?" "I am not threatening you. I am simply making sure you understand the parameters of whatever game you

Olivia's POV I was on my third glass of champagne when Marguerite appeared beside me. She hoisted herself onto the barstool with surprising agility for someone her age, waving away the bartender's attempt to help. "That woman is a leech," she announced. I didn't have to ask who she meant. I could still see Gabriel and Jolie on the dance floor, her hand on his chest, his face carved from stone. "She's known him longer than I have," I said. The champagne was making my words looser than I wanted. "She has history." "History is just another word for baggage that should have been thrown out years ago," Marguerite said. She snapped her fingers at the bartender. "Cognac. The 1952. Do not pretend you do not have it." The bartender's eyes widened. He disappeared into the back room. Marguerite turned to me, her sharp eyes scanning my face. "You are upset." "I'm fine." "You are a terrible liar. For an actress, that is concerning." I let out a breath that was half laugh, half something

Olivia's POV His grandmother's eyes widened. Then she laughed. It was a bright, cackling sound that made several people turn to look. "I like her," she declared. She reached for my hand and pulled me closer, ignoring Gabriel completely. Gabriel cleared his throat. "Grand-mère, this is Olivia Rayne," he said. "Olivia, this is my grandmother, Marguerite." "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Moreau," I said, smiling politely. "Please, call me Grand-mère," Marguerite said, her eyes twinkling. "And you are the actress, yes? The one who sings the song about the man who cannot appreciate her." "That's most of my discography," I admitted. Marguerite laughed again, loud and infectious. "Come. Sit with me. I want to hear about how you met my grandson. He has been a stone for too long. It is good to see him with someone who has fire." Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Marguerite was already pulling me toward a table near the front. I glanced back at him. He looked like he was calculating the

Olivia's POV I woke up to forty-three texts from my publicist and a very formal email from someone named “Margot Blanchet, Personal Assistant to Mr. Gabriel Moreau.” Before I could open it, my phone kept vibrating. The first text was from Sasha.Sasha: Livvie. You and Gabriel Moreau??? Please tell me this is real. I need details and emotional support snacks. The second was from Pedro.Pedro: Remember when you said you wanted a challenge? Congratulations. You picked the final boss. Jolie Seraphine is trending and I regret every warning I ever gave you. I scrolled, waiting for one more name to pop up. Nothing. Of course. Brittany wasn’t a morning person. She never was. Then I finally opened the email. It was three sentences long. "Miss Rayne, a selection of appropriate gala attire will arrive at 2 PM. Please be ready for hair and makeup at 4 PM. Mr. Moreau will collect you at 6:30 PM sharp." I read it three times, looking for a single word that wasn't dipped in frost. There was

Olivia's POV Jolie froze. I caught her reflection in the polished surface of the table. Her perfect mask was finally cracking. She looked at Gabriel's hand on the back of my neck and then at the way I was draped across the table like a prize he had no intention of sharing. "I just wanted to ask about the gala tomorrow," Jolie said. Her voice was thin. "My father expected you to escort me as usual. He said the seating arrangements were already finalized." Gabriel slowly turned his head. He didn't let go of my neck. His thumb continued to trace slow, distracting circles against my skin. I felt my heart hammer against my ribs. This wasn't acting. Or if it was, he was much better at it than I gave him credit for. "Your father should have checked with my assistant," Gabriel said. He sounded bored. "I have other plans for the gala. I assume your friend with the property development interests can fill the vacancy." The man at Jolie’s table looked over. He looked like he wanted to say so

Olivia's POV The following week was a blur of strategically leaked "candid" shots and frantic phone calls from my label. Gabriel was a man of his word, which meant he was a man of very few words and very high expectations. He had dictated the terms of our first public appearance like he was brokering a peace treaty. No club. No tequila. Just a "quiet" dinner at a restaurant so exclusive it didn't even have a sign on the door. I sat in the back of his town car, smoothing the skirt of my dress. It was silk, the color of a bruised plum, and clung to every curve. I had traded the leather jacket for a tailored cashmere coat. I looked like a woman who knew the difference between a salad fork and a fish fork, even if I usually used neither. Gabriel sat next to me, his laptop open on his knees. He hadn't looked at me since I climbed in. "You know, usually when a man picks up a woman for a date, he tells her she looks nice," I said, leaning over to peek at his screen. "Or at least acknowl