Novels by Fawzi Eutychia

“Lie to me again,” Arthur whispered. He stepped so close that my back hit the wall. I locked my jaw and held my breath. I couldn’t say a word. If I opened my mouth, he’d hear the tremble in my voice, and he’d know. His fingers came up, taking my chin in a tight grip and tilting my face up. His eyes moved over my features. The way he stared made my skin crawl. It felt like he was looking straight through my skull, reading every hidden thought I was trying to bury. A cold spike of terror ran down my back. Slowly, his hand shifted. His fingers hovered barely an inch over my shoulder without touching me. He leaned in, his nose brushing near my skin as he took a short, sharp breath. The warmth of him pressed against my chest. My nipples hardened… a response I couldn’t control. A cold chill hit my spine. He knew. He saw the lie sitting right there on my face, and he was choosing not to call it out. Not yet. I froze, unable to move. “My parents are coming,” Arthur said, his voice dro

The figure leaned over the bed. Cold air brushed my face, but the scent that came with it was wrong. Not Arthur's sharp cologne. Something softer. Sandalwood mixed with faint tobacco. A warm voice spoke near my ear, low and calm. "Don't scream." I kept still, my lungs locking in my chest. The man studied my face in the dark like he was examining something rare he had already decided to keep. I could hear the dark smile lingering in his breathing. Then he straightened, turned, and left the way he came. The door closed without a sound. I did not move until the house settled completely back into silence. Sitting up, I pulled the sheet tight against my chest and stared at the dark doorway. Every tiny creak of the floorboards made my stomach turn. He had walked into a locked room, stood over me in the dark, and vanished into the shadows like a ghost. I stayed awake until dawn, watching that door with my mind racing. By first light, the heavy lock on the corridor door clicked from th

He released me and crossed to the door. The brass lock turned with a solid, echoing click. He approached the dresser where the cash rested in the neat stack I had been forced to arrange. Picking up the top bundle, he flipped through the bills once, the sound crisp in the quiet room. "Stealing on our wedding night is sloppy." His voice stayed dead even, devoid of warmth. "If I get the police involved that ruins my public image." He set the bundle back down and gathered the rest. "If I inform your family, they'll beg for mercy." He carried every single bill across the room. Behind a dark, oil painting of some stern old man in a suit, a small safe was built directly into the wall. He opened it, placed the money inside, and locked it again. The heavy painting swung smoothly back into place, hiding the safe once more. Only then did he turn. He stripped the half-open shirt from his broad shoulders in one smooth motion and let it fall to the floor. His frame carried the hard, t

Arthur’s voice cut through the silence behind me. “And where do you think you’re going?” I froze with my hand on the garden door handle. My heart slammed against my ribs. Slowly, I turned around. His eyes moved over me, the gown, the small bag in my hand, my bare feet. He didn’t look angry. Just… calm. “Don't make me repeat myself, Sophie.” I swallowed hard. “I… I needed some air.” He started walking toward me. Each step was steady. Unhurried. I backed up until my back touched the door. He stopped just close enough that I could smell whiskey and his cologne. “Air?” He glanced at the bag in my hand, then back at my face. “Still on your wedding dress?” Before I could answer, he reached out and took my wrist. Not hard, but firm enough that I couldn’t pull away. “Come with me.” He turned and started walking. I had no choice but to follow. My legs felt weak as we moved down the hallway. Every closed door we passed made my stomach tighten. He stopped at the quiet guest room

I pushed the door open. The sight hit me like a punch. Arthur had Elena bent over the edge of the bed, her pink dress bunched around her waist. He stood behind her, moving with slow, deliberate thrusts. His hands gripped her hips tightly. The sharp sound of skin meeting skin filled the room. Elena moaned softly, pushing back against him, her face flushed with pleasure. I couldn’t breathe. Arthur leaned over her, one hand sliding up to grip her hair. He pulled her head back gently as he drove deeper. “Like that?” he murmured against her ear. Elena’s eyes fluttered open. She saw me first. For a split second, surprise flashed across her face. Then her lips curved into that familiar smirk. She didn’t stop. If anything, she arched her back more, moaning louder while keeping her eyes locked on mine. Arthur hadn’t noticed me yet. He kept thrusting steadily, completely focused on her, his breathing rough. Elena’s moans grew sharper as she pushed back against him, still staring at m

The next three days disappeared in a blur of relentless activity. From sunrise to late evening, people surrounded me without a single moment to breathe. Dress designers measured every inch of my body, pinning expensive lace against my skin and arguing over tiny details as if I were a mannequin. Florists arrived in waves, carrying thousands of white roses, orchids, and lilies until the Martin’s mansion smelled like a luxury garden. Workers hung crystal chandeliers, rolled out imported carpets, and polished every surface until it gleamed. Everyone was excited. Everyone except me. The wedding wasn’t about love. It was about business, saving my family’s failing restaurant through this alliance with the Martin’s. On the morning of the ceremony, I stood before a full-length mirror while two makeup artists applied the final touches. The woman staring back looked beautiful. The white gown hugged my figure perfectly, long lace sleeves covering my arms while tiny crystals sparkled with eve