Novel-novel oleh Bryte Writes

The days following the shocking events at the Salvatore mansion were filled with nonstop investigations. Officers, lawyers, and investigators flooded both the Salvatore estate and the Miller residence. The patriarch wanted every secret uncovered, and this time—nothing was spared.Within a week, a bombshell dropped.A DNA test conducted on Mr. Miller and Avery—along with old hospital records—proved a devastating truth:Mr. Miller was NOT Avery’s biological father.Gasps erupted throughout the Salvatore mansion when the results were delivered.Old Mr. Salvatore’s expression hardened.“That woman planned everything. She deceived her husband, stole a newborn child, and attempted murder twice. She will face the consequences.”What came next was even more damning.Investigators found unpaid medical bills from the prison hospital—bills Avery’s mother had secretly settled under a fake name. They also found the bribed doctor’s confession stating that Avery’s mother coordinated the switch durin

Damien stumbled into the mansion just as dawn broke.His hair was disheveled, his shirt rumpled, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. He had searched the roads for hours—calling Elena’s name, driving back and forth, checking every corner—Nothing.He didn’t know where she went.He didn’t know who picked her up.And the thought that she might truly leave him burned like acid.He barely stepped into the living room before Old Mr. Salvatore’s voice called sharply:“Damien. To my study. Now.”Damien stiffened.Something in the old man’s voice… made fear coil inside him.He entered the study.And stopped cold.Across the desk were files, photos, documents — and at the very center, a birth certificate.His eyes landed on the name written beside “Mother.”Elena Salvatore.Damien’s heart stopped.“What… what is this?” he asked, his voice barely audible.Old Mr. Salvatore looked at him without mercy.“The truth. The truth your precious Avery and her family hid from all of us.”Damie

Avery Miller hadn’t slept at all. She paced her bedroom at the Miller estate like a trapped animal, hair disheveled, eyes swollen from crying—though not out of guilt. Out of terror. Her phone buzzed for the third time in ten minutes. This time, it wasn’t Damien. Not Karl’s grandmother. It was a message that stopped her breath. “Old Mr. Salvatore requests your presence at 8 a.m. sharp. Bring your parents.” Avery froze. Her breath stopped. Her fingers went cold. She read the message again, hoping it would say anything else—but the words remained the same, dark and final. “No… no, no, no,” she whispered, panic rising in her throat. Her mother rushed inside, hair in rollers, robe tied hastily. “Avery? What’s happening?” “It’s Grandpa Salvatore. He wants to see us. All of us. This morning.” Her mother blanched. “What does he want with us?” “I—I don’t know!” Avery snapped, her voice cracking. “But he was already suspicious last night. Karl called Elena ‘mom.

The mansion was quiet—far too quiet for a house that had just erupted in chaos. Most of the family had retired to their rooms, shaken and exhausted. But Old Mr. Salvatore did not rest.Not tonight.He sat alone in his private study, the door firmly shut, heavy velvet curtains drawn tight. A single lamp cast a warm golden glow across stacks of documents and several open files spread across his grand mahogany desk.His cane rested beside him, forgotten.His eyes, however—sharp and unblinking—scanned every piece of information laid before him.Records.Photos.DNA documents.Hospital reports.Surrogacy agreements.Birth logs.He had demanded access to everything connected to Karl’s birth.As soon as Avery and Damien had introduced the “surrogate birth” story three years ago, something in his gut had screamed that it was too neat, too clean, too convenient.And now, after what he witnessed tonight—Karl calling Elena “mom” without hesitation—his suspicions were no longer just whispers.The

Meanwhile, Damien was speeding down the road, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.Rage had clouded his mind earlier. Jealousy. Fear. Wounded pride.But now… now all of that was being replaced by a creeping sense of dread.What if something happened to her?What if she fainted?What if someone dangerous found her before he did?He cursed under his breath and swerved the car into a U-turn, speeding back toward the road where he had left her. His heart hammered painfully with every second that passed. “She’d better still be there,” he muttered, increasing his speed.But when he reached the exact spot…His headlights illuminated nothing.No silhouette. No faint outline. No Elena.She was gone. As if he never left her there.Damien slammed the brakes, flinging open the door and stepping into the cold night. “Elena!” he shouted, voice echoing into the emptiness.His chest constricted painfully.The road stretched out, silent.He looked around wildly.Nothing

The wind grew colder as Elena trudged along the deserted road, her thin arms wrapped tightly around her trembling body. The night felt endless, a black curtain stretching infinitely in every direction, swallowing every sound except for the uneven crunch of gravel beneath her aching feet. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the darkness itself tried to pull her down and swallow her whole. Cars passed rarely—one every ten, maybe fifteen minutes—rushing by without slowing, their headlights sliding over her figure as if she were invisible. She kept moving anyway, refusing to collapse, refusing to give in to the burning pain in her chest or the numbness creeping through her limbs. Her vision was blurring. Her body was weakening. Her mind was fraying. Still… she walked. Then suddenly— A burst of bright headlights cut through the darkness from behind her, bathing her in harsh white light. The vehicle slowed immediately, almost cautiously, then inched forward until it

The sun had barely set when a knock rattled the wooden door of Isabella’s attic flat above the bakery. She froze mid-step, clutching one twin to her chest while the other slept in the cradle. Her heart pounded. For weeks, she had lived in disguise, under the name Elena, always looking over her shoulder, always expecting danger. This knock was different. Firm. Authoritative. Before she could react, the door opened with a creak, and three men entered, dressed in plain clothes but carrying the unmistakable bearing of royal guards. At their head stood Sir Roland, the King’s most trusted knight. “Your Grace,” he said softly, bowing his head. “We’ve come to take you home.” Isabella’s breath caught. “Home?” she whispered. “No. The palace is not safe. The palace tried to kill me—” Sir Roland shook his head. “The King knows everything now. The poison, Aura’s plots, Lady Miriam’s betrayal. He sent us not to command you, but to protect you. He swore on his crown that no harm will touch

The sun had barely risen when Isabella boarded the early ferry with her twins hidden beneath heavy shawls. She kept her head lowered, her features shaded by a plain scarf. To the ferry’s crew, she was just another weary mother traveling inland, clutching her children too tightly against the morning chill. But inside, her mind was roaring.She had killed Aura.Not because she wanted to, not because she planned to, but because Aura had come for her children and left her no choice. The bruise on her arm throbbed where Aura had grabbed her, and she could still hear the sound of her skull striking the hearth.When the ferry docked in the next city, Isabella didn’t pause. She exchanged her last jewels for cash, bought forged papers under a new name, and rented a small attic flat above a bakery. The twins fussed softly in her arms, but she kissed their heads and whispered promises.“We’ll survive this, my loves. Mama will keep you safe. Even if the whole world turns against us.”She took a j

Aura’s ears had always been quick for favors and whispers. When her spy finally brought a name and an address — Sophia Daniels, a small cottage near the southern quay — her smile went hard like a blade. She booked the next flight without hesitation. This was hers to finish; she would not trust Khalid or any hired hand with the final act.The town welcomed her with damp clouds and gull cries. She moved through the streets like a woman on business, courteous and composed, the exact image of a visiting noble. At dusk, she knocked on the cottage door, holding a small parcel and a practiced expression of sympathy.Inside, Isabella was alone for the moment; the twins slept upstairs, their breaths soft under the thin blanket. She had grown careful in the months since her escape, but the shrine of normalcy she’d built made her vulnerable in a way palace life never had. When the knock came, she wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door.Aura’s smile was warm. “Sophia,” she said, using I

One year later …The sound of typewriters clattering filled the narrow office where Isabella now worked as a secretary. Papers piled high on her desk, telephones rang constantly, and her boss—a demanding but fair businessman—relied heavily on her organization skills.It wasn’t glamorous, but Isabella cherished the job. It kept food on the table and gave her a sense of normalcy. No one there cared about palaces or titles; to them, she was just Miss Daniels, a young mother who was efficient, discreet, and hardworking.Every morning, she left her twins in the care of Mrs. Carter, her kindly neighbor, before walking to the office in her simple skirts and blouses. She’d type letters, arrange meetings, and balance ledgers, often sneaking glances at the framed photograph of Alexander and Amara on her desk. They were her anchor—her reason for everything.For a while, she felt safe. But shadows lurked beyond her fragile peace.*******Back at the KingdomPrince Karl was unraveling. His once-ca

Under the cover of night, Isabella slipped out of the hospital through a side entrance, her hood drawn low over her face. The sympathetic doctor who had helped her escape had arranged everything—a change of clothes, forged travel documents, and a discreet car waiting in the shadows. Her heart pounded with every step. Every echo in the dimly lit corridor felt like the approach of guards. Every shadow seemed to stretch out like the hand of the royal family reaching to pull her back. She pressed a palm to her belly, whispering softly, “Don’t worry, little ones. Mama will protect you.” By dawn, Isabella was already at the borders, disguised as a common traveler. Her once-royal gowns had been traded for a simple cotton dress, her hair hidden beneath a scarf. She carried nothing that could betray her identity—no jewels, no royal insignias, not even her wedding ring, which she left on the hospital bed beside a folded note: Forgive me, Karl. But I must save our children, even if it mea

One of the King’s men rushed in, his face pale. “Your Majesty—Princess Isabella is gone!”The words froze the room. Karl’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”“She vanished from her ward. The window was found open. The bed was empty. No trace of her or the twins.”The King’s fury erupted like a storm. “Impossible! This hospital is surrounded by my guards. No one enters, no one leaves without my command!”Yet the reality stood before them—Isabella was missing, stolen away from under their very noses.Karl’s knees nearly buckled as the truth sank in. His wife. His unborn children. Gone.The King slammed his fist against the wall, his voice booming through the hallways like a war cry. “Seal the city! Find her! Whoever dares touch my blood will wish they were never born!”Aura lowered her eyes, masking the faintest flicker of triumph. Khalid’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his heart pounding—not from guilt, but from anticipation.The royal family had been thr