Novels by Lady Chids

Sloane woke up to an empty house. James had already left for work. The coffee pot was cold. No note. No apology. Just silence.She sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea she didn't want. The text from Ashton was still on her phone. She'd read it a dozen times. "I saw you today. You looked beautiful."She should delete it. Should block his number. Should forget he existed.She didn't. Instead, she finished her tea. Got dressed. Went to work.~~~The office was quiet. Mondays always were.She sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen. Spreadsheets. Emails. Reports. She went through the motions. Answered questions. Attended meetings. Pretended everything was fine.No one noticed anything was wrong. She was good at pretending.At lunch, she sat alone in the break room. Picked at a sandwich. Scrolled through her phone.Another text from Ashton."How are you?"She stared at the screen. Her heart was pounding."I'm fine."Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again."Liar.

The Moore estate looked different in the daylight.Sloane had been here before. For dinners. For holidays. For the wedding. But today it felt foreign. Like a place she didn't belong.She sat in the passenger seat of James's car, staring at the grand iron gates. The driveway stretched endlessly, lined with old oak trees and perfectly trimmed hedges.James killed the engine. Neither of them moved."You look nice," he said.She was wearing a simple blue dress. Nothing special. She hadn't dressed for him. She'd dressed for herself."Let's just get this over with," she said.He nodded. Got out. She followed.♦♦The dining room was already full when they walked in.Mrs. Moore sat at the head of the table, elegant and composed. A few cousins Sloane vaguely recognized. An aunt she'd met once. And a man she didn't know, sitting at the far end, half-hidden behind a floral arrangement.Sloane took her seat beside James. Smiled when she was supposed to. Nodded when she was spoken to.She was good

Sloane drove home in a daze.The city passed by in a blur. She didn't see the buildings. Didn't see the people. Didn't see anything except Ashton's face. The way he'd looked at her. The way he'd said he'd wait.She pulled into her driveway and sat in the car. Her hands were shaking. She didn't want to go inside. Didn't want to face James. Didn't want to pretend everything was normal.But she had to.The house was quiet. Too quiet. She walked through the door. The living room was empty. The kitchen was clean. No bottles. No mess.She walked upstairs. The bedroom door was open. James was sitting on the bed. Waiting.He looked up when she walked in. His eyes were red. He'd been crying."Where were you?" he asked. His voice was calm. Too calm.She didn't answer.He stood up. Walked toward her. "I called you. Ten times.""I know.""Where were you?"She looked at him. At his eyes. At the man she'd married."I was with someone," she said.The words hung in the air. Heavy. Final.He stared at

They arrived at his apartment. It was beautiful with tall windows bearing the view of the city. The whole place was clean. And cozy."You live here?" she asked."Most of the time.""It's so quiet.""James likes noise. Chaos. I like peace."She looked at him. "You know James?"He paused. Just for a second. Something flickered behind his eyes."Everyone knows James," he said carefully. "He's not exactly a low profile person."She nodded. Didn't push. She was too tired to push.He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Pulled out a bottle of wine."Do you want some?""I shouldn't.""You're not driving. You're not working. You're not with him." He set the bottle on the counter. "You're here. With me. Just for tonight."She looked at him. At his eyes. At the way he was watching her."Okay," she said. "Just for tonight."He poured two glasses. Handed her one. She sat on the couch. He sat beside her. Close enough to feel. Far enough to breathe."You have a beautiful place," she said."T

Sloane was at her desk when the receptionist buzzed."There's someone here to see you," she said. "A man. He says his name is Ashton."Sloane's heart stopped.She hadn't seen him since that night. Hadn't spoken to him. Hadn't even known his name until he'd left the note on the nightstand. She'd spent the past week trying to convince herself it had been a mistake. A one-night thing. Something she could bury and forget.She should tell the receptionist she wasn't available. Should hide in her office until he left.Instead, she said, "Send him in."****He walked through the door like he owned the building.Dark jeans. White shirt. His hair was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it. He held a coffee cup in each hand.Then he set one on her desk. "I didn't know if you liked sugar."She stared at him. "How did you find me?""You told me your name. And I found your work online." He shrugged. "Wasn't hard.""You shouldn't be here.""I know.""I could call security.""You could."

Sloane laid in bed at home, staring at the ceiling, the stranger's note still clutched in her hand. She read it so many times the words blurred together. "You're too good for whatever happened to you. Don't let him win."She didn't even know his name. But he'd seen her. Really seen her. And he hadn't looked away.She should have felt ashamed. She was married. She'd cheated. She'd let a stranger touch her in ways James hadn't touched her in months.But she didn't feel ashamed.She felt alive. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.She called in sick to work the next morning. Couldn't face anyone. Couldn't pretend everything was fine. She just needed to be alone.She sat on her couch and stared at the wall. Thought about James. Thought about the stranger. Thought about the life she'd built and the life she'd lost.She'd been so sure about James. So certain he was the one.Now she didn't trust herself to know anything.Then James came home that night. Sober. That was unusual.

♥ Lyra's POV ♥My head still hurt when I woke up.Not badly enough to keep me in bed, but enough that I knew the doctor had been right about taking things slowly.I reached for my phone on the bedside table and checked the time.8:17 a.m.I had slept later than usual.For a moment, I lay there listening to the quiet sounds coming from downstairs. Then I heard Maya's voice, followed by Leo's.They were already awake.That made me smile.I got out of bed carefully and went to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and taking my medication, I changed into a loose dress and tied my hair back, making sure the bandage wasn't too obvious.I wasn't trying to hide it.I just didn't want everyone asking me about it all day.When I walked downstairs, Maya spotted me immediately."Mommy!"She ran across the living room.I barely had time to open my arms before she threw herself at me."Careful," I said, laughing as I hugged her. "You'll make me fall.""Sorry."Leo came over more calmly, but only b

♠ Gabriel's pov ♠ Something was wrong. I realized it the moment Lyra walked away from the dining room. It wasn't the first time she'd been angry with me. It wasn't even the first time she'd refused to continue a conversation. But this felt different. Usually, there was emotion behind it. Frustration. Disappointment. Hope. Always hope. No matter how angry she became, there was always a part of her that still expected something from me. An explanation. An apology. A reaction. Tonight, there had been nothing. Just exhaustion.And somehow that unsettled me more than her anger ever had. I remained seated long after she'd disappeared upstairs. The dining room had emptied.The staff had cleared the table. Even the sound of the twins laughing somewhere in the west wing had faded. Yet I still sat there. Thinking. The problem was that I didn't understand why I was thinking about it. For years, distance between us had been normal. Expected. Necessary. Our marriage wasn't built on affectio

♥ Lyra's pov♥ I woke up with a headache. Not the sharp, dizzying pain from yesterday. This one was dull. Persistent. A reminder. The kind that lingered just beneath the surface no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. For a few seconds, I stared at the ceiling. The events of yesterday crashed into me all at once. Victoria. The staircase. Gabriel. The accusation. The look in his eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut. Big mistake. The movement sent another pulse of pain through my skull. "Wonderful," I muttered. A knock sounded at the door. Before I could answer, Mrs. Dalton entered carrying a tray. Tea. Toast. Medicine. The holy trinity of recovery. "You look terrible," she announced. "Good morning to you too." The older woman snorted. I almost smiled. Almost. Mrs. Dalton set the tray down. "Your painkillers." I obediently reached for them. The fact that I obeyed immediately made her narrow her eyes suspiciously. "You must really be hurting." "I got sti

♥ Gabriel's pov♥Victoria was asleep. At least, that was what the nurse claimed. I stood near the hospital window, staring at the city lights below. My reflection stared back. Tired. Irritated.Restless. The feeling had followed me ever since I left the house. I told myself it was because of the incident.Because of the accusation. Because another problem landed on my desk when I already had too many. But that wasn't entirely true. Something else was bothering me. Something I couldn't quite name.The hospital room door opened quietly. A nurse stepped inside. "Mr. Kane."I turned. "Yes?""Mrs. Sterling's test results came back."I nodded. "And?""Everything looks normal. The wrist isn't fractured. Just a mild sprain."I wasn't surprised. Victoria had never looked seriously injured. The nurse smiled politely before leaving. The room became quiet again. A mild sprain. I glanced toward the sleeping woman in the bed.Then, unexpectedly, another image appeared in my mind.Lyra. Standing at

♥Lyra's pov♥ The first thing I became aware of was the blood. Warm and Sticky. Running down the side of my face. For a moment, I just sat there on the staircase floor, staring at the crimson staining my fingers. The front door slammed somewhere in the distance. Gabriel was gone. The realization landed harder than the fall itself. Gone. He hadn't looked back. Not once. Not when I called his name. Not when I stumbled. Not when my head struck the railing. Gone. "Mrs. Kane!" Mrs. Dalton's voice broke through the ringing in my ears. The older woman rushed forward, her sensible shoes clicking sharply against the floor. She dropped beside me immediately. "Oh, heavens." Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood. "I'm fine," I said automatically. The lie sounded ridiculous even to me. Mrs. Dalton gave me a look that clearly said she wasn't fooled. "You are bleeding all over Mr. Kane's staircase." A humorless laugh escaped me. "Then he'll probably be upset about the carpet." The olde

♣ Victoria Sterling's pov♣ They always remembered me as elegant. Soft and controlled. The kind of woman who smiled instead of fought. It was useful. People rarely fear what they believe they understand. I adjusted the sleeve of my coat as I walked through Kane Manor’s upper hallway, listening to the quiet hum of servants pretending not to notice me. Two days. That’s what Gabriel had said. Only two days. I almost smiled at that. He still believed in temporary solutions. Still believed things could be neatly contained. Like me. A door opened ahead. And Lyra Olson stepped out. We stopped at the same time. For a second, neither of us spoke. She was… different in person. Less polished than the women Gabriel usually entertained in elite circles. But not weak. That was the interesting part. Her eyes held something stubborn. Something that didn’t belong in a world like this. “Victoria,” she said cautiously. I smiled politely. “Lyra.” Awkward silence stretched between us.

In dieser Nacht konnte ich nicht schlafen, denn jedes Mal, wenn ich die Augen schloss, sah ich Masons Gesicht vor mir. Wie er mich im Café angesehen hatte. Wie er gesagt hatte: „Ich habe es satt, wegzulaufen.“ Wie sich seine Finger um mein Handgelenk geschlungen hatten, als hätte er Angst, ich könnte verschwinden. Und dann Sloanes Stimme in meinem Kopf. Gebrochene Menschen brechen andere Menschen. Ich war zwischen zwei Wahrheiten gefangen. Die eine sagte mir, ich solle weglaufen. Die andere sagte mir, ich solle bleiben. Am Morgen hatte ich eine Entscheidung getroffen. Ich würde nicht weglaufen. Noch nicht. Ich meldete mich bei der Arbeit krank. Mrs. Patel klang besorgt, aber ich versicherte ihr, dass es mir gut ginge. Nur eine Erkältung. Dann rief ich Sloane an. „Ich werde ihm helfen“, sagte ich, bevor sie etwas sagen konnte. „Mit Vincent. Mit meinem Vater. Mit allem.“ Stille. „Lucy …“ „Ich weiß, was du sagen willst. Ich weiß, dass er gefährlich ist. Ich weiß, dass

In dieser Nacht konnte ich nicht schlafen, denn jedes Mal, wenn ich die Augen schloss, sah ich Masons Gesicht vor mir. Wie er mich im Café angesehen hatte. Wie er gesagt hatte: „Ich habe es satt, wegzulaufen.“ Wie sich seine Finger um mein Handgelenk geschlungen hatten, als hätte er Angst, ich könnte verschwinden. Und dann Sloanes Stimme in meinem Kopf: „Gebrochene Menschen brechen andere Menschen.“ Ich war zwischen zwei Wahrheiten gefangen. Die eine sagte mir, ich solle weglaufen. Die andere sagte mir, ich solle bleiben. Am Morgen hatte ich eine Entscheidung getroffen. Ich würde nicht weglaufen. Noch nicht. Ich meldete mich krank bei der Arbeit. Frau Patel klang besorgt, aber ich versicherte ihr, dass es mir gut ginge. Nur eine Erkältung. Dann rief ich Sloane an. „Ich werde ihm helfen“, sagte ich, bevor sie etwas sagen konnte. „Bei Vincent. Bei meinem Vater. Bei allem.“Stille.„Lucy …“„Ich weiß, was du sagen willst. Ich weiß, dass er gefährlich ist. Ich weiß, dass er mir das

Am nächsten Morgen hat Sloane mich in die Enge getrieben. Sie tauchte in meiner Wohnung auf, noch bevor ich meine erste Tasse Kaffee ausgetrunken hatte. Keine Vorwarnung. Keine SMS. Nur ein scharfes Klopfen an meiner Tür und dieser entschlossene Gesichtsausdruck, den ich nur zu gut kannte. „Dir auch einen guten Morgen“, sagte ich und ließ sie herein. „Komm mir nicht mit ‚Guten Morgen‘.“ Sie ließ ihre Tasche auf mein durchgelegenes Bett fallen und verschränkte die Arme. „Du hast ihn gestern getroffen.“ Das war keine Frage. „Woher weißt du das?“ „Weil du immer so zurückkommst, als hätte dich jemand überfahren.“ Sie setzte sich und musterte mein Gesicht. „Was wollte er?“ Ich setzte mich neben sie. Erzählte ihr alles. Das Café. Das Foto. Vincent Russo. Dass der Raubüberfall mit Masons Familie zu tun hatte. Sloane hörte zu, ohne mich zu unterbrechen. Als ich fertig war, schwieg sie lange. „Ich wusste von Vincent“, sagte sie schließlich. „Was?“ „Seit Monaten kreist jemand um die

Es ist nun schon drei Tage her, seit Masons Lippen meine berührt hatten. Drei Tage, seit er dieses kalte Lächeln gezeigt und sich von mir abgewandt hatte, als wäre ich ein Nichts. Drei Tage, seit ich in seinem dunklen Wohnzimmer gestanden und erkannt hatte, dass ich ausgenutzt worden war.Seitdem hatte ich das Poolhaus nicht mehr verlassen.Weder um etwas zu essen, noch um frische Luft zu schnappen. Ich lag einfach nur im Bett, starrte an die Decke und ließ jeden einzelnen Moment noch einmal Revue passieren. Wie seine Hand mein Gesicht umschlossen hatte. Wie sein Mund sich auf meinen gestürzt hatte. Wie er sich zurückgezogen hatte, während seine Augen mir sagten: „Ich habe bekommen, was ich wollte“ – als wäre ich eine Eroberung. Als hätten zehn Jahre, in denen ich ihn begehrt hatte, nichts bedeutet. Ich hatte geweint, bis ich nichts mehr übrig hatte. Dann hatte ich noch mehr geweint. Jetzt fühlte ich mich einfach nur leer. Am vierten Morgen gingen mir die Ausreden aus. Mein Magen

Jedes Mal, wenn ich die Augen schloss, hörte ich seine Stimme. Wenn ich mich nicht bald von ihr distanziere, werde ich alles ruinieren. Sie. Ich. Er sprach von mir. Ich habe das Gespräch hundert Mal im Kopf durchgespielt. Ich habe sie zehn Jahre lang beobachtet. Sie sieht mich an, als wäre ich ein Möbelstück. Mason Chen hatte mich beobachtet. Zehn Jahre lang. Während ich ihn ebenfalls beobachtet hatte. Schließlich ging die Sonne auf. Ich beobachtete sie durch die Fenster des Poolhauses und überlegte, was ich tun sollte. Ich konnte es Sloane nicht erzählen. Ich konnte Mason nicht zur Rede stellen. Also tat ich, was ich immer tat. Ich tat so, als wäre nichts geschehen. Gegen Mittag hatte ich mich davon überzeugt, dass ich mir das alles nur eingebildet hatte.Ich stand in der Küche des Haupthauses, als Mason hereinkam. Ohne Hemd. Nasses Haar. Noch hingen Wassertropfen an seinen Schultern. „Lucy.“ Er holte sich einen Proteinshake aus dem Kühlschrank, ohne mich anzusehen. „Du steh

Drei Tage vergingen.Drei Tage, in denen ich Mason aus dem Weg ging. Drei Tage, in denen ich mich im Poolhaus versteckte, als hätte ich Angst vor etwas – vor ihm.Ich versuchte, nicht an die Nächte zu denken, in denen er spät nach Hause kam. Der Job-Tipp führte zu nichts. Mason hatte, wie versprochen, angerufen, aber als ich mich meldete, war die Stelle bereits vergeben. Ich verbrachte meine Tage damit, auf meinem neuen Handy Stellenanzeigen durchzublättern, Bewerbungen ins Leere zu schicken und zuzusehen, wie meine Ersparnisse fast auf null schrumpften. Vierzig Dollar in meinem Schuh. Das war alles, was ich noch hatte. Am vierten Morgen wachte ich vom Geruch von Kaffee auf. Nicht der schwache, ferne Duft aus dem Haupthaus. Dieser hier war ganz nah. Im Poolhaus. Ich setzte mich orientierungslos auf und sah Mason mit zwei Tassen in den Händen an meiner Küchenzeile stehen.„Was machst du hier?“ Ich griff nach dem Laken und zog es mir bis zum Kinn hoch. Ich trug nur ein übergroßes T-

♥Olivia♥The next few days were peaceful.Diego spoiled me endlessly. Breakfast in bed. New clothes delivered by the hour. Long walks through the city with his hand wrapped around mine. Quiet evenings on the balcony, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of gold and pink.I'd never been this happy.I'd never felt this safe.But something was changing.Diego was gone more often. Meetings that stretched late into the night. Phone calls he took in his study with the door locked. Whispers between him and Carlotta that stopped the moment I entered the room.I didn't ask. I didn't push.But I noticed.One evening, I found him standing on the balcony, staring at the city below. His shoulders were tense. His jaw was tight."Diego?" I walked toward him. "What's wrong?"He didn't turn. "Nothing.""Don't lie to me."He was silent for a moment. Then he sighed."There are things happening. Things I need to handle.""What kind of things?"He finally turned. His eyes were dark. Tired."Busines

The next morning, I woke up to chaos.The penthouse was buzzing with activity. Staff members rushing around. Phones ringing. Voices raised.I sat up, disoriented. "What's happening?"Diego was standing by the window, his phone pressed to his ear. His expression was dark. Cold."We have a problem," he said, hanging up."What kind of problem?"He turned to me. His eyes were hard. "Your family is here. All of them. Demanding to see you."My blood ran cold. "Beatrice too?""Especially Beatrice." He walked toward me. "They're not happy. They're saying the marriage was forced. They want to take you home."I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere.""I know." He took my hand. "But they're not going to give up easily. Beatrice has been spreading lies. Telling people I forced you to marry me. That I kidnapped you after you ran.""That's ridiculous. They were at the wedding. They saw me walk down the aisle.""She doesn't care about the truth. She just wants to destroy our marriage."I stood up.

•Olivia•I woke up in his arms.His body was wrapped around mine like he was afraid I'd disappear. His breath was warm against my neck. His hand was splayed across my stomach, possessive even in sleep.I didn't move. I didn't want to.I just lay there, feeling his heartbeat against my back. Feeling the weight of his arm around me. Feeling... safe.Last night flooded back.The way he'd worshipped every inch of my body. The way he'd whispered my name like a prayer. The way he'd stopped, even when he was desperate, to make sure I was okay.I'd never felt so cherished."Good morning, gattina."His voice was thick with sleep. Rough. Sexy. I felt his lips press against the back of my neck.I turned my head. He was smiling at me. His eyes were soft. Warm. Full of something I'd never seen directed at me before.Love."Good morning," I whispered.He kissed my forehead. "How do you feel?"I thought about it. About last night. About everything."Happy," I said. "I feel happy."His smile widened.

I couldn't breathe. He was so close. So impossibly, devastatingly close. I could feel the heat radiating from his body like a furnace. I could smell his cologne. Something dark and expensive, mixed with the clean scent of soap from his shower. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and uneven. "Diego," I whispered. "Hmm?" His voice was low. Rough. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. My mind was a blank slate, wiped clean by the sheer intensity of his presence. Every thought I'd ever had had evaporated, replaced by a single, burning awareness of him. His body above mine. His skin against my skin. His eyes—those dark, beautiful eyes fixed on me like I was the only person in the world. I just knew I didn't want him to move away. I reached up. My fingers trembled as they touched his chest. His skin was warm. Smooth. I could feel the muscles beneath, hard and defined. Diego's breath caught. "Olivia." His voice was strained. "You're killing me." I didn't know w

At the Villa ~Staff members rushed through the halls. Flowers were being arranged. Music was being tested. The small group of guests—Diego's trusted inner circle were being seated in the garden.And I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at my reflection.The dress was stunning. White silk. Simple elegance. Nothing like the heavy, suffocating gown my mother had chosen. Diego had chosen this one. He'd had it delivered this morning, along with a note:"Wear this, gattina. It matches your eyes."My eyes were brown. The dress was white and filled with wonderful designs. But somehow, I understood what he meant.He saw me. The real me. Not the version my family wanted me to be."What are you doing?"I spun around. My father was standing in the doorway, his face red with rage. His suit was rumpled. His tie was crooked. He looked like he'd been running."You," he spat. "You selfish, ungrateful—""Father—""Don't you dare speak to me!" He stormed into the room. "Do you have any idea wha

"I wasn't—""You were." He smiled. "But that's okay. I'm not offended."I stared at him. "You're not?""No." He tilted his head. "You don't know me. You only know the rumors. The whispers. The stories." He paused. "And I'd rather you run from a monster than marry a stranger."I didn't understand."What do you want?" I whispered. "Why are you being so... nice?""Maybe I'm not a monster," he said. "Maybe I'm just a man who wants to get to know his wife.""I'm not your wife.""Not yet." He leaned in again. "But you will be. You're running away, but you won't get far." He paused. "Your father has enemies. He's made one. A powerful one. The moment you leave me, they'll come for you."My blood ran cold. "You're threatening me.""No." He shook his head. "I'm protecting you. There are people out there who want to hurt your family. Hurt you. I'm the only one who can stop them."I didn't know what to say."Running away won't save you, gattina," he continued. "But staying with me will.""Why?" I