Novels by Tobi

JOLENE'S POVDr. Reyes called me into her office on a Wednesday afternoon, the kind of summons that always carried a flutter of anxiety regardless of how well a rotation had actually been going, and gestured for me to sit down across from her desk with an expression I couldn't immediately read."How are you feeling," she asked, glancing briefly at the noticeable curve of my stomach, now well into the second trimester and impossible to disguise beneath even the loosest scrubs."Tired," I admitted. "But managing.""Your obstetrician sent over a note," Dr. Reyes said, sliding a paper across the desk. "Recommending reduced overnight shifts for the remainder of the pregnancy, given some of the stress markers in your recent bloodwork. I wanted to discuss accommodations with you directly rather than simply adjusting your schedule without input."I read through the note twice, old instinct flaring immediately, the familiar, exhausting reflex toward proving I didn't need special treatment, tha

VICTOR'S POVI'd planned nothing elaborate, deliberately, understanding by now exactly what Elena valued and exactly what she didn't. No restaurant reservation with a hidden ring in a dessert. No audience of strangers to perform the moment for. Just the two of us, on the small balcony of the apartment we now shared, a quiet Tuesday evening that looked, to anyone watching, like every other evening we'd spent together over the past several months.I'd carried the ring in my jacket pocket for three days, waiting for a moment that felt right rather than staged, understanding after everything I'd learned from my own history with her that authenticity mattered infinitely more than spectacle.She was watering the small collection of plants she'd started keeping on the balcony railing, something she'd taken up recently, a quiet, patient hobby that suited the version of herself she'd built here, far from the ambition and performance that had once defined her career before Maya destroyed it."Y

JOLENE'S POVThe essay went viral within eighteen hours, faster and further than anything Rebecca's communications team had projected, shared and reshared across platforms I barely used myself, quoted in three major outlets by the following morning, the headline shifting entirely from speculation about the marriage's authenticity to something closer to genuine admiration for a woman who'd survived what I'd survived and chosen honesty over silence.*Henderson Heiress Tells Her Own Story, And It's More Than Anyone Expected.**The Truth Behind the Will That Started It All, In Her Own Words.**Why Jolene Henderson's Essay Is Resonating Far Beyond Her Own Family's Scandal.*I read the headlines with a strange, disorienting mixture of relief and vulnerability, understanding that whatever privacy I'd once held onto about the darkest parts of this story was now permanently gone, replaced by something I hadn't fully anticipated, actual understanding from strangers who'd never once met me.The

JOLENE'S POVWhitcombe's story never ran, not directly, not the way he'd apparently intended it to. Instead, something quieter and somehow more insidious began circulating a week later, anonymous posts on financial forums and gossip accounts speculating openly about the original terms of the will, questioning aloud whether a marriage that began under such specific, transactional conditions could ever have become genuinely real.*Does anyone else find it convenient that the "gold digger" story turned into a fairy tale right around the time the family needed better press?**Not saying it's fake. Just saying the timeline is interesting.**Genuine question: did anyone ever actually confirm the terms of the will beyond what the family itself released?*I read through the threads longer than I should have, my stomach tight in a way that had nothing to do with the pregnancy and everything to do with the old, familiar sting of strangers deciding they understood my life better than I did.None

JAKE'S POVThe email arrived from our communications director on a Thursday morning, forwarded with a subject line that made my stomach drop before I'd even opened the attachment.*Preliminary media inquiry — Whitcombe legacy concerns.*Grant Whitcombe, the same chairman who'd once presided over Victor's suspension hearing, had been quietly pushed off the board eighteen months earlier, a casualty of the fallout from Danforth's collapse, his own past connections to the firm surfacing during Victor's investigation in ways that made his continued presence untenable. I hadn't thought much about him since, assuming, the way you assume about most ousted executives, that he'd simply retreated into whatever private consulting work men like him fell back on when their public relevance ran out.He hadn't retreated quietly. According to the inquiry our director had received, Whitcombe had been quietly shopping a story to three separate outlets, framing himself as a whistleblower who'd been unfai

HAILEY'S POVMarcus Chen showed up to our third planning meeting fifteen minutes late, no apology attached, and set his laptop down across the table from me with the kind of unhurried confidence I usually only saw from people who'd never once had to worry about disappointing anyone important."You're late," I said."I'm aware," he said, not looking up from whatever he was pulling up on his screen. "I was finishing an actual consultation with an actual patient. I figured that mattered more than being punctual for a marketing planning session about protein powder branding."I hadn't expected the bluntness, and I found myself, against my better judgment, faintly impressed by it. Most people who worked adjacent to this family learned quickly how to soften every sentence around us, careful not to offend the Hendersons, careful not to risk whatever access or opportunity our name might represent. Marcus clearly hadn't gotten that memo, or more likely, hadn't cared to read it."It's not just