Novels by Aisha Siddika Shimu

“I wasn’t interfering.” I straighten without meaning to, my spine aligning as if pulled by a string. “I was helping them. Saving them from your wrath.”For a brief second, nothing shifts. Then Mr Shaw laughs. The sound is sudden and full, echoing against the high ceiling and polished marble. Without carrying warmth, it fills the room the way thunder fills a valley, loud and impossible to ignore.My shoulders lock in place. Across the room, the twins glance at each other. Their identical brows knit together as if they cannot decide whether this is amusement or danger.“My children do not require your protection, Miss Smith.” Mr Shaw tilts his head slightly, studying me as though I have just made a fascinating but misguided argument. Each word leaves his mouth with precision, measured and deliberate. “You are very quick to assume authority here.”Leo shifts closer to me. Subtle, almost instinctive. The soft brush of his sleeve against my hand feels like a silent plea. I fight the u

“I just want you not to be hard on the kids?” I ask, keeping my voice steady. “Why are you involving me in this?”I force myself not to look away.He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sits back down slowly, the chair scraping against the marble floor with a low, deliberate sound. He folds the newspaper neatly, aligning the edges with unnecessary precision. Everything about him screams control.“You’ve already involved yourself,” he says at last, lifting his coffee to his lips. Steam curls between us. “You might as well see it through.”I can feel Mrs Rose watching from the doorway, rigid as a statue.“And,” he adds lightly, as if it’s an afterthought, “if they refuse to cooperate, you will not interfere with how I handle it.”There it is.The unspoken edge beneath the civility.“They’re seven,” I say quietly.“And I am their father.” His tone doesn’t rise. He knows how to make people obey him. I draw in a breath. “Fine. I’ll bring them down. But no shouting. No humiliation. If y

(Jennifer's P.O.V.)After the shower, Maria guides me to the dining hall for dinner. There, I meet the rest of the members of the Shaw family.Seven years old. Though they do not look alike, their posture is identical, dark eyes that watch everything.Leo and Oliver. Damien Shaw’s kids. Their mother, Sabrina, died in a car accident two years ago.They sit across from me. When Heidi introduces me to them, they politely bow their heads. Both of them are perfectly behaved. They chew slowly. They thank the staff. They kiss Heidi’s cheek after dinner before heading upstairs.But when they think no one is watching, their eyes sparkle with something wild.They are not obedient.They are careful. And intelligent. The night passes without any trouble. When I finally lie down, exhaustion takes me instantly. My body sinks into the mattress. For once, sleep comes without shadows. No nightmares. No cold hands pulling me under.Even fear seems tired tonight.Morning arrives gently. Pale light spi

“Huck… where are the rest of the videos?”The footage cuts off the moment Mr S steps into frame. I rewind. Fast-forward. Play it again. Two, three times. I check the connection, the player, everything. It’s not my device.I call Huck.“Boss, that’s all we got,” he says, voice steady as ever. “Our guy lost his grip on the camera in the chaos. It fell. I’m checking online to see if anyone else captured it."What the hell is happening here?Is Mr S planning to hurt Jenny? Did he stir up that mob in the first place?It wouldn’t be new. A few years ago, a young man planned to run against Mr S in the election. They framed him with a scandal involving a woman and handed him to an enraged mob. He never mentioned politics again and eventually left the country.Well… this time, Mr S shouldn’t forget who his opponent is.It’s me… the one and only Adrian Hale.I still can’t understand how this man moves freely. Every major crime in this country has a thread leading back to him. Still, the men this

“Something’s not right.” I still feel shaken. “Why would anyone kill Emma?”She worked for Mr S’s TV channel for more than seven years and eventually became his right hand. Whenever something went wrong, it was Emma’s responsibility to fix it. And she always delivered.During the last election, part of Mr S's campaign funding was funnelled through her.So why slaughter the goose that lays the golden eggs?“Unless she stops being an asset,” Charles says quietly. “And becomes a liability.”“Maybe.”We need to figure out which one it is. Or was there a completely different motive?After we freshen up, we head to the barracks canteen for breakfast. There’s still a lot to do, but I make a point of checking the apartment’s CCTV feed again.Jenny is getting ready. Today is her first court hearing.She’s wearing a simple white and grey dress. No makeup. No jewellery.She is not the woman I fell in love with.She is the bride I left standing at the altar.I don’t know how to fix what I broke.

(Adrian’s P.O.V.)As soon as I open my eyes, sunlight hits me directly. I blink several times before my vision adjusts, then slowly take in my surroundings.The open field where I’m lying looks like a training ground. A group of men sprints across it in perfect formation, muscles taut and controlled. Their boots strike the ground in unison, each carrying a heavy rifle as if it weighs nothing. Whistles cut through the air, followed by sharp commands.There's a tent next to the cot. Last night, I was too exhausted to care where I slept. I barely found a spot before my body gave out.I look around for Charles. The cot next to mine was where he had been at night. There's no sign of him now, only a half-empty water bottle rolling on the ground next to it. Seems like someone has left it behind in their rush.Pushing aside the thick blanket I was wrapped in, I sit up slowly. The cot beneath me is a simple rope frame, creaking under my weight as I move.A bitter laugh escapes me.The last tim