Novels by Barati Haizel

Delilah’s Point of ViewThe brush slips in my hand, dragging a crimson streak of lipstick too far past my lip. “Damn it,” I hiss, tossing it onto the vanity table with more force than necessary. The sound echoes in the room, sharp and accusing, like even the walls know I am unraveling.I lean closer to the mirror and my reflection stares back flawless curls, gold earrings glinting beneath the lamp, but eyes that betray me. They tremble, flicker, give away the truth no matter how much mascara I drown them in. I can help but think about my life with Jackson before Emily , Amara or whatever name she goes by today came back into our lives . Our lives were not perfect but durable, now it is just full of drama , blood and injustice . I press the tissue against my mouth, wiping the mistake. Calm, Delilah. You have survived worse storms than this. But the storm tonight is not Jackson’s temper or society’s whispers. It’s Emily /Amara .My phone vibrates against the table, its glow lighting th

Emily’s Point of ViewFor years I grieved children I thought were buried in ashes . Yesterday the truth did not whisper, it crashed into me like a storm ,my babies are alive. My babies did not perish in the fire ten years ago . The thought alone is enough to glue me to the bed long after the sun has clawed its way into the sky. Golden light streams through the tall windows of my penthouse, catching on the white silk curtains I never bothered to draw shut last night. The room feels too bright, too loud, too alive for a heart that has just relearned how to hope.I should feel joy ,a sense of relief or something like resurrection. But instead my body lies heavy, like stone, as though grief refuses to give me back what it stole. For years, I walked around with an invisible coffin chained to my chest, mourning children I never held, never kissed, never even named properly in my heart. Yesterday’s meeting with Nancy cracked that coffin open. She looked me in the eyes, trembling, struggling

Delilah’s Point of View The mansion loomed like a ghost as I pulled up the driveway, its windows glowing faintly against the night sky. I had been gone all day, drifting from bar to bar, restaurant to café, anywhere that kept me from facing what I had heard today . I wanted to drown in noise, in alcohol, in anything that made me forget the private investigator’s words.Amara Holt’s real identity has been revealed, she is Emily Jack .No matter how many glasses of wine I downed, the thought clung to me like a shadow. It could not be true right ? It had to be a mistake. A trick . Maybe the PI was wrong, maybe Amara was just some woman who bore a resemblance, maybe this was all another one of the universe’s cruel ways of punishing me.But every time I tried to convince myself of that, Amara’s voice replayed in my head the way she looked at me across her penthouse, the way she smiled like she already knew the secrets buried in my chest.If Emily was alive, then everything I had built,

Nurse Nancy’s Point of ViewThe night air felt colder than usual as I stepped out of the glittering penthouse building. My legs carried me down the pavement, but I could hardly feel them. Every nerve in my body buzzed with disbelief, with terror, with something I could not even name.“I am Emily.”Her voice still rang in my ears, sharp as a blade. My hands trembled as I pulled my coat tighter around me, but the chill was inside me, not out here in the street. Emily the woman the world thought might have dead, the woman I myself believed was gone forever was standing in front of me tonight, alive and burning with rage and grief. She is hungry for revenge .For a moment I had thought Amara was playing some cruel game, another trick from the world of powerful investors and shadowed secrets but then she said my name in a way only Emily once said after I helped her deliver her babies safely . She looked at me with those same pleading eyes I once saw in the delivery room, when she clutched

Emily’s Point of View“She has agreed to meet with you. We will be there in thirty minutes.”The words from my private investigator settle in my ears like the first crack of thunder before a long-awaited storm. For a moment, I simply close my eyes and allow the relief to wash over me. Nurse Nancy after so long she has agreed to meet me , no more hiding or running away when she sees me .The first time I met her, I was Emily the broken mother who just wanted to safely deliver her babies not Amara the powerful investor. I was simply a patient but she treated me more like family, as though the blood coursing through my veins was her own. She bandaged me with tenderness, spoke to me with patience, and carried me with a love that no nurse was ever obligated to give and how did I repay her kindness? By forcing bribes down her throat. With whispered deals in hospital corridors, coaxing truths from her lips that she should never have been forced to utter. Even now, guilt clings to me like a

Delilah’s Point of view I had been dragging my feet all morning, praying Jackson would change his mind about me apologizing to Amara , but instead he sat in the mansion like a guard dog, cold eyes following me with every excuse I made. Not once did he soften. Not once did he tell me to forget about it. He just sat there, jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the arm of his chair like he was counting the seconds of my delay. His silence was louder than shouting, and the weight of it pressed against my chest until I could barely breathe. By the time hours had crawled by, my excuses had run dry. Finally, his voice cut through the air, hard and merciless. “If you do not apologize to Amara Holt by today and get her on board to invest again,” he said, his eyes like daggers, “then you should pack your bags and leave my mansion. I will not stay married to a liability.” The words shattered me. Leave ? After every

Princess Victoria’s Point of ViewThe silence of the royal chamber was deafening, a silence that mocked me louder than any gossiping courtier could. The bed beside me remained cold, untouched, as though my husband had never existed at all , as if yesterday was just a dream . Golden light filtered through the tall windows, dancing on the silk drapes, but instead of warmth, it only highlighted the emptiness pressing down on me.What should have been the dawn of a fairytale. Yet, as I sat upright among the scattered rose petals and silk sheets, the truth pressed against my ribs like a cruel hand. My husband had not come to me.I swallowed hard, pulling the covers tighter around me as though that could shield me from reality. My wedding gown, now discarded across a chair, glimmered faintly in the morning sun, its sequins catching the light like tiny fragments of broken promises. I had smiled for the cameras, endured the endless toasts, and stood at Georg

Princess Victoria’s Point of view The first thing I notice when my eyes flutter open is the cold emptiness beside me , an untouched pillow where my husband should have been. For a moment, I lie still, staring at the space, my chest tightening with each passing second. The echoes of last night’s fairytale wedding still swirl in my mind the golden chandeliers, the thunderous applause of nobles, the cameras flashing as millions of people watched me become Princess Victoria the future queen to king George. It should have been the happiest night of my life.But the dream ended before it even began.He never came to me.I sit up, the heavy silk sheets pooling at my waist, and search the room with desperate eyes. No sign of him ,no jacket discarded carelessly on a chair, no scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Nothing. The realization claws at me while I stood smiling for the cameras, he had slipped away. Where had he gone? Was this what

Princess Victoria’s Point of view The moment the grand doors of the chapel swung open, my heart skipped a beat. Sunlight spilled into the hall, catching the sparkling crystals of my gown, the delicate lace of my veil, and the countless jewels that adorned the altar , a fairy tale wedding if you ask me .My breath caught in my throat, and for a fleeting second I allowed myself to believe in the fairy tale that had carried me through countless sleepless nights . It was finally my moment to step out of the shadows , the moment I would become Prince George’s wife, the moment destiny had promised.Yet, as I took the first steps down the aisle, a small part of me recoiled at the title I was about to claim. “Prince George’s wife,” I can not believe that I will soon rule as Queen besides my prince charming, I whispered under my breath the words tasting strange on my tongue, almost bitter. I loved him, yes with all the intensity of my being but the notion of being defined b

Prince George’s Point of View The air felt thick, heavy with tension as I made my way to the agreed meeting place to meet up with Sindy my calm in the storm of uncertainty. Every step was measured, but inside I was a raging storm. I could not face her and tell her everything that had happened. I could not risk revealing that our carefully laid plans might crumble, that Princess Grace my uncle’s hidden accomplice had set a scene earlier this morning that could undo everything. Sindy already believed my uncle was the only threat, but little did she know the full depth of Grace’s cunning nature.“I promised you the wedding will not happen, I made sure of it .” I said as soon as I saw her, the weight of my vow pressing against my chest. “And I will keep that promise.”Sindy’s gaze was steady, her presence a calm anchor against the chaos within me. Together, we began mapping strategies to expose my uncle’s true nature, to reveal his doubl life to the c

Princess Victoria’s Point of View Never in a million years did I think I would feel gratitude toward my twin sister Grace. The word itself tasted bitter on my tongue, tainted by all the schemes, betrayals, and manipulations that had defined our relationship for years and yet… this morning, I could not deny it. My brain is still processing the sacrifice she made for me , all the humiliation she took just for my sake . The sunlight poured through the tall windows of my chambers, illuminating the chaos outside as servants scurried to and from their coordinated movements like a symphony of preparation. My royal wedding was finally going to take place. After yesterday’s heart-wrenching disappointment when my fiancé called it off, the promise of a new beginning shimmered in the morning air and I knew, with a complicated twist in my chest, that Grace was the reason it was happening.She had executed her plan with such precision that for a fleeting mome

Prince George’s Point of ViewThe chamber was finally empty. My uncle had left with his usual imperious authority, barking orders about the preparations for the wedding celebration. Princess Victoria had fled to her rooms, sobbing, and clinging to her cunning twin sister Grace’s comforting hands that promised solace but delivered only manipulation. And I remained behind alone with the silence pressing against my skull like a vice.I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to slow the furious drum of my heartbeat. My chest ached with a cocktail of fury, guilt, and disbelief. The morning had been a carefully staged theater, a trap designed to break me and to bend me into submission. Grace’s smug calm had been calculated, precise and my uncle’s unveiled threat had been deliberate and terrifying . Princess Victoria’s tears were innocent and had been the cruelest strike of all.Yet beneath the rage, a spark of clarity burned. They had underestimated me. They had assumed the shock, the c