Novels by Nyen

Lena’s POV The gala was over, but the echo of it clung to me like smoke. Back at home, the house was quiet like it never was—no clatter from the kitchen, no low hum of Dominic pacing the hall. Just silence, stretched taut over the three of us. I sat on the edge of our bed, still in the black silk dress, my hair pinned, makeup smudged where I’d cried without meaning to. The clock ticked past midnight, and I kept waiting for the words that wouldn’t come. Dominic leaned against the doorway, his jacket long discarded, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. The faint cut across his cheekbone from earlier—where Clara’s manicured nails had nearly caught him in the chaos—was a sharp reminder of how close we’d come to breaking entirely. Neither of us spoke at first. The truce between us was fragile, a thread stretched thin over months of doubt, jealousy, and half-healed wounds. But tonight, for the first time, he’d stood in front of the world and burned every bridge back to Clara. I ex

The gala was everything I hated. Especially when Lena and I were still not good. Polished marble floors reflected the golden light of chandeliers, the air buzzing with champagne and shallow laughter. Men in expensive suits shook hands as though they weren’t sharpening knives behind their backs. Women glittered like jewels in designer gowns, but not one of them compared to the quiet, steady beauty of the woman standing across the room. Lena. Her dress was black silk, simple but devastating, her hair swept up, leaving the column of her neck bare. She wasn’t smiling—not tonight. Her posture was proud, but her eyes flicked to me once, cool and cautious. She didn’t trust me fully. Not yet. And that was my fault. I had let Clara’s games wedge doubt between us. But tonight, I would burn every bridge to prove where I stood. “Dominic.” Her voice slid through me like poison before I even turned. Clara. She looked immaculate, red lips curved into a smile that was more threat than charm. “I

Lena’s POV I didn’t want to sit. I didn’t want to listen. But Dominic was standing in front of me with a flash drive in his hand, his expression carved from stone and desperation, and for once… for once he wasn’t begging. He wasn’t spinning words like honey. He wasn’t reaching for me. He was just—offering. “Please,” he said, his voice low, frayed at the edges. “If you never believe me again after this, fine. But watch first. Just… watch.” I folded my arms across my chest, trying to ignore the way they trembled. My mug of tea sat forgotten, cooling on the table between us. “Fine.” The word tasted bitter. “Show me.” He connected his laptop to the TV, the blue glow filling the quiet living room. Eliana was asleep upstairs. The house was so still it felt like the air itself was waiting to see which way we’d break. The footage began. A hotel lobby. Clara’s sharp silhouette sweeping inside, heels clicking like a countdown. She wasn’t clinging to Dominic—she was alone, though her bod

Dominic’s POV The hardest part of betrayal isn’t the wound. It’s the silence that follows. Lena hadn’t screamed. She hadn’t cursed. No—she’d just looked at me with those wide, wounded eyes and told me I smelled like another woman. That cut deeper than any bullet ever could. And it meant one thing: if I didn’t find proof, if I didn’t bury Clara under her own lies, I’d lose Lena forever. So I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. While the house settled into its nighttime rhythm—Eliana’s soft snores down the hall, Lena’s restless shifting in the bedroom we were no longer sharing—I sat in my study with nothing but a lamp, my laptop, and a promise burning through me. Clara thought she could corner me. Frame me. Drag me back into her orbit like some pathetic puppet. Not this time. ********** First stop: the hotel. I made a call just after midnight. Money talks, and mine screamed. By two a.m., I had a scanned copy of the reservation in my inbox. The name on the file made my stomach tighten. D

Lena’s POV The house was too quiet. Not peaceful but accusing, the kind of quiet that pressed against my skin and whispered in every silence: you saw what you saw. I hadn’t even realised I was gripping the steering wheel so hard until my hands cramped. When I pulled into the driveway, my knuckles were white, my chest a knot of rage and grief that felt impossible to untangle. I couldn’t even look at the house without remembering Clara’s smile, her voice purring like she owned him, the hotel key glinting in her fingers. Trust. Once cracked, it never shines the same. I sat in the car until my body shook from holding it all in. Then I forced myself inside. ********** Eliana’s laughter floated down the hallway. She’d returned from her playdate, oblivious to the chaos her parents were choking on. For one terrible second, I wanted to collapse against her, to cry into her little pink backpack and tell her Mommy didn’t know how to hold things together anymore. But I couldn’t. She dese

Lena’s POV Trust is a strange thing. It can survive storms and betrayals, it can bend without breaking — until suddenly, in one sharp breath, you wonder if you ever had it at all. I kept replaying Dominic’s promise from that night: No more secrets. You’ll know everything. And for a few weeks, he held to it. He told me about the men he assigned to watch Clara’s movements, about the legal letters his lawyers sent, and about every time she tried to call. We were, for the first time in years, fighting side by side. And then the phone rang. It was nearly dusk. Eliana was at the neighbour’s for a playdate, the house so quiet I could hear the clock tick above the stove. I recognised Dominic’s assistant’s number. “Hello?” “Mrs. Black,” the young man’s voice was clipped, nervous. “I think you… I think you should come to the downtown hotel. The Royal Crest. Room 808.” “Why?” My stomach turned. A pause. “Just—come quickly. Before the press does.” The line went dead. For a moment I sto