Novels by Doyinlola Emmanuel Sanusi

Lucien's POVI stood frozen in the doorway of the portrait gallery, watching the woman flee down the hallway like her life depended on it. Her bare feet slapped against the polished hardwood, her dark hair streaming behind her like a banner of defiance.What in God's name...I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering beneath my skin. Who was she? Why was she in my house? And why had she looked at me like I was the devil himself?Tobias has really outdone himself this time, I thought, shaking my head. Hiring the strangest maids. Where on earth did she come from?I turned away from the gallery, my mind still churning with confusion. The woman had been beautiful—strikingly so—with those grey-green eyes and that defiant chin. But she was clearly unstable. Running through the halls like a madwoman, barefoot and terrified.I walked down the corridor, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The estate was quiet now, the morning light filtering through the tall windows. I needed to find

Clara’s POVThe air between us was thick enough to choke on.Lucien Hargrove stood framed in the archway, his silhouette cutting a sharp line against the morning light. His dark eyes held mine, and I saw it — the flicker, brief but unmistakable, the same shock that had slammed into me the moment I looked up at that portrait.He knows.Heat rushed to my cheeks. My fingers curled into my palms as the memory of that night flashed through my mind — the face I’d seen the next morning, the question I couldn’t stop asking myself. What if he thinks he knows what kind of girl I am?I couldn’t stand there under that gaze one more second.I turned and ran.My bare feet slapped against polished hardwood as I bolted past a blur of stern-faced ancestors in gold frames, through a grand foyer, out a set of heavy double doors into air thick with pine and damp earth. Manicured hedges. A gravel driveway. The glint of wrought iron in the distance.Freedom.I flew across the gravel, stones biting into my

Clara's POV Waking up felt like dragging myself up from the bottom of a deep, dark swimming pool, fighting for air that wouldn't come while heavy weights dragged me down into the mud.First came the heat—thick, dry, and heavy, wrapping around my skin like a woolen blanket, completely unlike the chilly, crisp Canadian air I was used to breathing. Then came the faint, ghostly sound of wind chimes and low voices speaking a rhythmic, unfamiliar language echoing beyond a heavy piece of carved wood. Finally, my eyes cracked open to bright, blinding golden sunlight streaming through delicate linen curtains, falling across a massive, luxurious bed piled high with soft down pillows that swallowed me whole.I bolted upright, gasping for breath, my head pounding like a bass drum against my skull with every beat of my racing pulse.I was still wearing the exact same clothes from the sedan—my favorite gray sweater and black slacks, now wrinkled, dusty, and smelling faintly of chemicals. My phone,

Clara's POV By Thursday, the game of hide-and-seek was completely over.The black SUV didn't even try to pretend anymore. It had parked right in front of my office building entrance that morning, blowing puffs of white exhaust into the freezing air. When I stepped out for a quick lunch break, I spotted it immediately. It was the exact same vehicle that had been lingering near my apartment building all week—the same one with the deep tinted windows staring up like unblinking eyes.My heart hammered against my ribs. How was it following me here? Was it tailing my bus every morning, or did these people somehow know every single place I go?Priya caught me staring out the lobby glass doors during our lunch break. Seeing the pale, sick look on my face, she grabbed my wrist so hard her fingernails bit sharp into my skin."Chucky Baby, look at me," Priya whispered, her eyes wide with terror, using that ridiculous, mocking childhood nickname she loved to pull out whenever she wanted my full

Clara's POV Since the Las Vegas incident I have buried myself in my work, pulling double shifts until the office was empty, secretly copying all my files onto a hidden flash drive so David and Brianna couldn't steal my architectural credit for the Kairos project before I handed my resignation letter in.Priya kept cornering me in the breakroom, offering soft, worried glances while she stirred her herbal tea. "You look like you're fading away, Clara," she murmured one afternoon, her voice thick with genuine concern. "Are you sure you are eating? You haven't touched your lunch in days."I batted her concerns away with bright, brittle smiles, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Just the deadline, Priya. You know how David gets." I forced a laugh, but it sounded like glass breaking. Every time she looked at me with those perceptive eyes, I felt like she could see the secret growing inside me, glowing like a beacon.I couldn't brush off what was happening to my own body, though. The real

Clara's POVThree weeks went by in a blur of pure unadulterated anxiety.I locked Las Vegas away in a mental box and threw away the key. Whenever my phone buzzed with a New York area code, I stared at it until the screen went black, telling myself that whatever "handle it before she gets home" meant, it was just some rich guy's business drama. It had nothing to do with a broke data analyst living in a shoebox apartment in Toronto.My real life didn't leave any room for daydreams anyway. It was made of cheap rent, a fridge that made a loud humming noise every twenty minutes, and an office cubicle where I secretly did everyone else's job while David Park took the credit."Look who's bright and early," Brianna purred, sliding her hips against the edge of my cubicle wall two minutes after I sat down. Her eyes darted straight to my laptop screen, trying to read the text. "What are you hiding over there?"I slammed my laptop lid down so fast it nearly crushed my fingers, a sharp clack echoi