Novel-novel oleh dennovan1

AUTHOR’S POVThe isolated mountainside house in the Catskills offered no comfort. Dust coated the cheap wooden furniture, and the smell of old pine and damp earth hung heavy in the stagnant air. Rain lashed against the thin windowpanes, mirroring the relentless storm tearing through Merrick’s mind.Standing in the center of the dim living room, he stared at the glowing screen of his laptop. The battery was dying, but the news feed remained frozen on a high-resolution image of Anika. She stood on the steps of the Sterling Corporation headquarters, looking flawless and untouchable. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sharp style, and her posture radiated an unyielding authority.Merrick felt a sickening knot twist deep in his gut. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the wooden table.His empire was gone. The federal authorities had frozen his domestic bank accounts, seized his luxury vehicles, and issued active warrants for his arrest. Jasmine Vance had built an ironclad lawsu

ANIKA"You should answer it," I muttered, sliding off the edge of the counter. My feet hit the hardwood floor with a soft thud. I smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt, eager to retreat to the safety of my office and hide from the rejection stinging my chest.Icelyn swiped the screen to accept the call and brought the device to his ear. "Vance. Tell me you have good news."Turning my back, I took a step toward the hallway. I fully intended to leave him to his business, but the sudden, sharp shift in his tone stopped me in my tracks."What do you mean the house is empty?" Icelyn demanded.His voice lacked its usual smooth control. It sounded harsh, biting, and laced with genuine alarm. The temperature in the kitchen seemed to drop ten degrees.I turned back around. Icelyn stood near the window, his broad shoulders rigid with tension. He dragged his free hand through his dark hair, a rare sign of actual distress."How did they get past the perimeter?" he growled into the phone. The fury v

ANIKAThree days had passed since the morning I saw the text message on his phone. Three days of carrying a dark, suffocating secret in the pit of my stomach. The question from the unknown sender played on a relentless loop in my mind. Did you have any hand in the Senator's death?It echoed over my morning coffee. It whispered in my ear during board meetings. It kept me staring at the dark ceiling late at night while my husband slept just down the hall.The penthouse offered no refuge from my racing thoughts. Rain beat against the thick glass of the living room windows, washing the New York skyline in a dreary, gray haze. Standing by the kitchen island, I traced the rim of my ceramic mug with a trembling finger. The tea inside had gone cold an hour ago.Could the man I loved actually be a murderer? The rumors about Icelyn Sterling painted him as a ruthless predator, a man who crushed his enemies without a second thought. I always assumed the stories referred to his aggressive financ

AUTHOR’S POVMerrick felt his knees buckle slightly. He gripped the door frame to keep himself upright. "Am I under arrest?""Not at this moment," the second officer clarified. "But we have a formal complaint filed against you, and the detective wants to speak with you immediately. Please get dressed and step outside."He did not argue. He walked back upstairs, his mind numb with fear, and pulled on a simple pair of jeans and a dark sweater. He followed the officers out into the rain and climbed into the back seat of the police cruiser. The hard plastic seat offered no comfort. As the car drove away from his estate, Merrick stared out the window, convinced his life was over. He assumed Jasmine Vance had pulled a few strings with the local precinct to detain him before the federal agents arrived.The police station was a cold, depressing building. The strong scent of bleach and stale coffee filled the narrow hallways. Fluorescent lights buzzed loudly overhead, casting an ugly, pale glo

AUTHOR’S POVMerrick gripped the leather steering wheel until his knuckles turned a sickly shade of white. His heart hammered a frantic, painful rhythm against his ribs. The dark highway stretched out in front of him, illuminated only by the faint glow of his headlights. He pressed his foot harder onto the gas pedal, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the city as possible.Realizing he was in severe trouble, a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. The conversation in the parking garage had shattered his final illusion of safety. Anika did not feel any pity for him. She had the legal documents, the offshore bank ledgers, and the recorded confessions. The authorities were likely building the federal case right now. If he stayed in New York, he would spend the rest of his life staring at concrete walls.Thirty minutes later, the tires of his car skidded against the wet gravel of his Long Island estate. He threw the transmission into park, turned off the engine, and

ANIKAA sharp, bright chime interrupted my spiraling thoughts.I stopped pacing. The sound came from the center of the room. Looking toward the mahogany desk, I noticed a sleek, black smartphone resting near a stack of legal files. Icelyn had left his personal phone behind in his rush to meet with Peter.The device chimed again. The large digital screen lit up, casting a harsh white glow over the dark wood.I took a step toward the desk, intending to ignore it. The phone belonged to my husband, and I had never been the kind of woman to pry into the private correspondence of others. Yet, a strange, overwhelming curiosity tugged at my mind. The screen was on. The text notifications were piling up right on the lock screen.Walking over, I stood above the desk and looked down at the bright display.Several new messages from Jasmine Vance detailed a timeline for a press conference. Another message from a financial broker discussed the shifting stock margins. It was all standard, boring cor