Novels by Barati Haizel

Sindy’s Point of ViewThe cabin felt smaller than usual, the quiet pressing down like a weight I could not lift. I sank onto the edge of the bed, every muscle tight, my heart hammering in time with the thought that would not leave me: the wedding was in two days. The words of the Acting King during breakfast still echoed in my mind, relentless and sharp: “Prince George and Princess Victoria will marry in two days.”Two days. That was all the time I had to prevent a mistake that could alter the kingdom forever. My chest tightened, each breath shallow as the thought gnawed at me. I had failed once, and now the consequences were unfolding in plain sight. My failure to protect Princess Victoria, to stop her from walking into a destiny I knew would mirror the tragedies of Prince George’s mother, weighed on me like heavy chains.I pressed my face into my hands. She deserved better. She deserved a life where love and trust were not jeopardized by secrets s

Prince George’s Point of ViewCold dew clung to my skin, soaking through the fabric of my already torn shirt. I awoke lying against the stone of my parents’ grave, the air damp with morning mist. For a long moment, I could not move because of shame, exhaustion, and the acrid tang of blood which kept me pinned where I was.The metallic scent of it hung thick in the air, the stench mixed with earth and the faint fragrance of lilies left by grieving subjects. I lifted a trembling hand to my mouth, and the sticky smear that met my fingers confirmed what I already feared. My body had betrayed me again.Hunger. Always hunger and thirst .I had left my chambers last night with one purpose to retrace the steps of where Sindy had been found, to follow the trail of her scent, the memory of her presence, and perhaps find some answer that the guards overlooked. But my cravings had sharpened with each step into the night. My vision had blurred, the pounding of heartbeats in the castle grounds had

SINDY Point of ViewDarkness pressed in from every side, broken only by the faint glow of a single lantern swinging from the ceiling. My side ached sharply beneath the bandages, each movement sending a jolt of pain through my ribs. I forced my eyes open, straining to see anything beyond the shadows. The pain from earlier was now worse.A voice cut through the silence, smooth, deliberate, and filled with a strange authority.“You’re awake,” it said.I froze. Fear prickled along my spine, instinct screaming that this was not just another guard or servant. Slowly, I turned my head toward the sound.A tall figure emerged from the corner, cloaked in shadow. His face was sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore. Recognition struck me like a blade: Prince George’s uncle. The man who held the throne in his hands while George’s parents were gone. The acting King himself.“You…” I croaked, trying to sit up. “You… why am I here?”He stepped closer, eyes calm but unyielding. “You were in danger,

Prince George’s Point of view The corridors of the palace blurred into streaks of shadow and torchlight as Victoria and I raced toward the courtyard. The guard’s words still rang in my ears—Sindy… hurt. My chest was tight, lungs burning, but the urgency in my legs did not falter. She had to be alive. She had to be. I need her alive . For the first time in weeks, I had felt like I was not alone in this fight. When Victoria had that Sindy was hurt she stood by me . She had not hesitated, had not asked what was in it for her. She simply said, Let’s go, and now we are on our way to together to see Sindy .Her skirt swept the floor as she ran beside me, the flicker of the wall sconces catching in her hair. Neither of us spoke; there was no need. We both knew the stakes.But just as we reached the last turn before the courtyard, a tall, broad shadow slid into our path.“Uncle,” I hissed, coming to an abrupt stop.The Acting King stood like an unmovable pillar, hands clasped behind his b

“In the shadows of truth, silence screams loudest.”SINDY — Point of ViewPain was the first thing I felt.It pulsed through my side, sharp and rhythmic, like a cruel reminder that I was still alive. Then came the chill, the icy brush of sheets against my bare skin, sterile and cold. My eyelids fluttered, struggling against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights above. I blinked again, squinting. The world tilted as I tried to sit up.“Careful,” a voice warned.A palace medic leaned into view. His face was smooth, unreadable, like a statue carved by someone who had never known compassion. “You lost a lot of blood. You were found unconscious just outside the garden wall.”Garden wall?Panic stirred in my chest. Images flared in my memory—darkness, the scent of iron, a low growl too guttural to be human. A flash of something pale teeth, maybe. Not George’s. Someone… something else.I winced and licked my dry lips. “Where’s Prince George?”The medic’s gaze hardened. “Unavailable at the mo

Princess Victoria Point of ViewI did not sleep last night.Not after reading that letter.It rests on my bedside table, folded neatly but heavy with the weight of everything it revealed. I have read it more times than I can count, hoping that the words would somehow rearrange themselves into a misunderstanding, a prank, anything other than the truth.Prince George is a vampire.Not a rumor. Not a threat hiding in the woods. A reality I am now entangled in. The man I am set to marry is the son of a Queen who died to birth a cursed legacy.I had imagined my engagement week would be filled with love, ballgowns, and whispered promises under the stars. Instead, I am hiding the knowledge that could destroy an entire kingdom… and myself.The silence in the room is deafening. Grace has also not visited again since yesterday’s smug warning. If only she knew what I know now. Perhaps she would stop being so consumed with petty jealousy and realize just how dark the crown she envies truly i

Emily’s Point of view The penthouse was very quiet when I returned, the kind of silence that pressed against your chest like a weight. I set my bag down carefully, but inside I was still trembling. My heart had not calmed since I left the park.Jackson Junior’s voice echoed in my mind, his soft, fragile confession that no one would remembered his birthday and that sometimes he felt invisible even in his own home. That was not something a child should carry. Not any child and especially not one with his father’s name. But then again what did I expect from Delilah and Jackson, they can not manage a company so what do they know about raising a child.I walked to the window, staring down at the city lights, and pressed my hand against the cold glass. He deserved better. And yet, in Delilah’s and Jackson’s world, he was treated like an afterthought. A child should be the center of his parents’ universe, not pushed aside like furniture in a crowded room. They are lucky they got to be paren

Nurse Nancy’s Point of view The soft crackle of the radio filled the tiny kitchen as I stirred porridge over the stove. Morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, pale and gray, like it was afraid to touch this house. Jane sat at the table with her inhaler beside her plate, her chest rising and falling in shallow little waves. Primrose sat opposite, swinging her legs under the chair, a magazine spread open in front of her.I tried to focus on the porridge, on the little domestic sounds that made our mornings feel ordinary. But the words from the radio cut sharper than the hiss of boiling milk.“Breaking news: Rosaline Greene, long-serving executive assistant to businessman Jackson Jack, has died in what authorities are calling a tragic car accident…”My hands froze on the spoon. Rosaline Greene. Even though I had never met her, her name carried weight in this city. Jackson Jack’s people… They had always been too close to po

Emily’s Point of view The morning broke with the shrill buzz of my phone. I reached for it half-asleep, but the screen glared back with bold, unforgiving headlines. “PA dies in a car accident.” “Rosaline Greene dead—Accident or murder?” I froze, my breath caught in my chest. Rosaline… gone? For a long moment, I simply sat there in silence, the world around me dull and muffled. I did not need to read further. This was not an accident. The timing was too perfect, too brutal. Rosaline had an affair with her sister’s husband and in the process her social media account posting those pictures was deadly and now she was dead. Someone between Delilah and Jackson have a hand in her death . My stomach clenched, a bitter taste flooding my mouth. Another piece of the puzzle was gone, buried with her broken body. But I did not have the luxury to mourn her. My only hope now lay with Nurse Nancy. She had been there the night my children died, the night the flames consumed everything I love

Delilah’s Point of view The walls of the mansion felt like they were closing in on me. My heels clicked restlessly against the marble floors as I paced the living room, unable to sit still, unable to breathe. Every few seconds I peeked out through the curtains, only to see the swarm of paparazzi outside, their flashing cameras like vultures circling a dying prey.“Get rid of them!” I snapped at the guards by the door telling them to do their job which they are clearly failing to do . My voice cracked with desperation. “I don’t care how just use force if you must. Break their damn cameras if they do not listen. I want them gone!”They bowed and hurried out, and still my chest burned with agitation. Where was Rosaline? She should have been here by now. She had to explain herself . Why did she betray me like this ? It is supposed to be me and her against the world , not the other way around . An hour crawled by before the sound of the front doors opening made me freeze. My heart leapt

Delilah’s POVThe first thing I heard that morning was not birdsong, nor the soft chirp of my alarm clock, but the clicking chaos of cameras outside my mansion. My curtains glowed from the flashing bulbs, white light stroking against the glass.I sat up abruptly, heart pounding. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, notification after notification piling up. I did not need to check to know what it was about. Yesterdays impulsive post had exploded into a storm I could no longer control.Paparazzi were camped outside my gates, shouting my name, demanding answers. To make matters worse Jackson did not come home since the news about his affair leaked .Regret struck me like a knife to the chest. What had I done? I should have dealt with this privately. Quietly. I should have confronted Rosaline face-to-face, not handed the world ammunition to fire at me.But it was too late now and there was nothing I could do about it . “Mom?”A small, sleepy voice pulled me from my spiral. My nine-year-o

Delilah – Point of ViewAmara’s words should not have mattered.She was a stranger, a potential investor, nothing more.And yet… her voice lingered in my mind, echoing like a taunt I could not silence.I told myself I would not dwell on it. I had better things to do than entertain a thought that will not only destroy Jackson but also me and everything I sacrificed. So, I curled up on the couch, phone in hand, and started scrolling through social media — anything to distract myself from this stress.Big mistake.The first thing I saw was Rosaline’s post which was a close-up of her perfectly manicured hand, the caption flaunting “New love deserves new sparkle #Blessed”. And there it was , a glimmering, expensive watch on her wrist. Not just expensive. Limited edition. The kind you wait months for, unless you have the right connections… or the right man buying it for you.My stomach twisted.When was the last time Jackson had bought me a gift? I thought hard, sifting through years of