Novels by Desire July

♥ RAYMOND'S POV ♥The taxi pulls up to the lodge and I step out, suitcase in hand, the sea air hitting me like a cold slap.I stand there for a moment, looking up at the building. It's smaller than I expected—weathered grey wood, a sagging porch, windows that have seen better decades. The sea stretches out beyond it, grey and restless, the sky the same colour as the water."This is it," I mutter to myself, dragging my suitcase toward the entrance.The lodge is simple inside. A narrow bed. A desk. A kitchenette that looks like it's been used maybe twice in the last ten years. I drop my suitcase by the door, stretch my arms over my head, and decide I need to move. Stretch my legs. Clear my head.I've been thinking about this moment for weeks—the transfer, the proximity, the chance to see her again. I told myself it was strategic. Practical. She needed someone watching out for her, and I happened to be in a position to do it.I'm a terrible liar.The path behind the lodge winds along the

♥ ELIAS'S POV ♥"I don't understand why she's still in the capital."My mother's sharp voice cuts through the dining room like a blade, the way she speaks about everything that displeases her. She's seated across from me at the long mahogany table, her posture perfect, her silver hair swept back in the elegant knot she's worn my entire life. The chandelier above us catches the diamonds at her throat, scattering light across the room like tiny, indifferent stars."She should have been sent to that school already," she continues, lifting her wine glass with fingers that never tremble. "The longer she lingers, the more the pack talks. Do you understand how embarrassing this is for your father? For me?"I don't answer. I'm pushing food around my plate, the roast beef growing cold beneath my fork, my appetite having abandoned me somewhere between the first course and the second."Elias." Her voice sharpens. "Are you even listening to me?""Yes, Mother." The words come out flat, automatic.

♥ AZALEA'S POV ♥The teacher's lodge is smaller than I expected.Not cruel, exactly. Just... nothing. A single room with a narrow bed, a desk pushed against the wall, a kitchenette that looks like it's seen maybe three occupants in the last decade. The window faces a stretch of grey sea, the sky heavy with clouds that match the weight in my chest.My father didn't even step inside. He pulled up, cut the engine, and said, "This is where you'll be staying. The school's expecting you in two months. Don't contact the family until the scandal dies down."Then he drove away.I'm standing in the middle of the room, still in the clothes I was discharged in—a pair of sweatpants Martha found for me, an oversized sweater that smells like hospital laundry. The IV port is still taped to my arm. I haven't had the strength to remove it."I ought to kill him," Martha says from behind me, her voice tight and controlled in the way that means she's genuinely furious. "I'm going to—""Martha." I turn to

♥ RAYMOND'S POV ♥The administrative office smells like stale coffee and desperation, which Karl informs me is the natural perfume of any institution that processes paperwork for a living."You're enjoying this way too much," I mutter, signing my name on the final form. "This is the fifth time I've written my name on something that says the exact same thing as the first four forms.""Welcome to education, my friend." Karl leans back in his chair, feet propped on a filing cabinet that looks older than both of us combined. "Where the paperwork multiplies faster than the students you're supposedly here to teach. Remind me why you wanted this transfer again?""Because my brother—""Your brother asked you to do strategy work from the capital. That's not the same as teaching maths to teenagers who would rather be anywhere else." Karl's grin is insufferable. "You could've just taken an office job. A nice, quiet, paperwork-free—""I like teaching." I say it flatly, which makes Karl laugh hard

Martha's hand is still wrapped around mine, warm and solid, when Forrest finishes talking. I've been watching his mouth move for the last five minutes, hearing words like corticosteroids and adrenal suppression and long-term exposure, but they've been sliding off me like water off stone.Until Martha's grip tightens, and she says, "So you're saying someone fed her this? On purpose?"Forrest's jaw tightens. "We can't prove intent yet. But the levels in her system are consistent with regular, prolonged ingestion—years, not months. It's not something that builds up accidentally.""That's not—" Martha shakes her head, hard, like she can physically reject the idea. "That doesn't make sense. She wouldn't. She hates pills. She won't even take ibuprofen without complaining about it for an hour. What, you think someone's been sneaking into her food? Her water? Who would even—""Martha." I squeeze her hand, trying to slow the avalanche of her panic. "Breathe."She exhales sharply through her no

♥ AZALEA'S POV ♥He's tall — tall enough that he has to duck slightly under the doorframe — with a build that suggests he's spent real time training rather than just looking the part, dark hair pushed back like he ran a hand through it one too many times. And when he smiles at me, easy and warm, something in my chest does a small, humiliating flip.There's someone more beautiful than Elias.The thought arrives before I can stop it, and right behind it comes the familiar, exhausting wave of self-consciousness — the awareness of the hospital gown swallowing my frame, the IV taped to my arm, the fact that I probably look like something dragged out of a river. "Hi," I say instead, voice still rough. "I'm Raymond." He steps closer, hands tucked into his pockets like he's trying to take up less space in the room. "I'm glad you're awake."“Thank you, Raymond," I repeat, testing the name, searching my memory for it and coming up empty. "I'm so grateful for your help. I'm sorry, have we — do