Nobela ni I.J Faeoma

“I think you should leave him,” Lana said, grabbing Damian’s hand, her fingers curling tightly around his wrist as if trying to anchor him before he could explode again. But it was too late. The chaos from earlier still clung to them like smoke. What was meant to be a simple movie night had turned into a mess—a disaster, really. They had barely settled into their seats at the cinema, trying to enjoy Love the Drum by Doones, when the situation spiraled. Lana had just reached for her popcorn when an overly bold stranger leaned in too close, his fingers brushing hers under the guise of accidental contact. She hadn’t even fully processed what happened when Damian stood, cold rage flashing in his eyes. The next thing she saw was his fist connecting with the guy’s jaw, hard and merciless. People had gasped, security rushed in, and the entire moment collapsed into chaos. Now, they were seated in a dim booth at Iraq Pacts, the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses offering som

“You better hurry,” he said with a smirk, his gaze dragging over me in that arrogant way that made my skin prickle. I bit my tongue, swallowing the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I folded my arms and lifted a brow. “Oh well, I can’t dress up with you watching me.” Damian leaned against the doorframe, completely unfazed. “Okay then. I guess we’ll be here all night, because I have no plans of turning around or going to the sitting room. It’s boring there. I’d rather stay here.” I sucked in a slow breath, realizing he was dead serious. He really wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted me to— “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” His voice was smooth, teasing, laced with something that made my pulse tick faster. I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” He shrugged, that damned smirk never leaving his face. “Oh yeah.” For some stupid reason, maybe frustration, maybe defiance, I let out a quiet breath and let the towel in my hand drop. I barely re

Lana forced herself to breathe as she settled back into her chair, her fingers curling slightly against the smooth surface of her desk. Damian’s words still echoed in her mind—We have a long day ahead of us. He had said it with that usual commanding tone, the one that left no room for arguments. And she hadn’t argued. Instead, she had done the only thing she could—walked out of his office, shut the door behind her, and returned to her assistant’s desk, as if nothing had just happened between them. But now, alone with her thoughts, the problem remained. I can’t take him to Trisha’s place. That’s impossible. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. There was no way she could let Damian meet Trisha—not when Trisha knew her secret, not when she was the only one who had helped her weave the web of lies she now lived in. He couldn’t meet Trisha, not now, not ever. But then there was Zito Whitehawk The name sent a shiver through her as she leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at her l

The air was thick, charged with something dangerous, something exhilarating. Damian’s lips were on hers, his grip firm yet intoxicating. The world outside his office didn’t exist, only the heat, the tension, the way his body pressed into hers. Her fingers curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, hungry, lost. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to leave, to put distance between them. But here she was, melting under his touch, tilting her head back as his lips traveled down the column of her throat. A sharp voice from outside the office snapped reality back into place. “I own this place too, you know! You have no idea who I am, i will have you fired so move.”“Ma’am the boss wasn’t expecting you”A small voice pleaded from outside. Lana’s stomach dropped. Someone was coming. The door flung open just as Damian straightened, his expression a mix of irritation and forced composure. Lana, still breathless, tried to push past the mortifying reality o

“Please… let me go.” Adrian’s voice was hoarse, raw from months of pleading. His throat burned, his lips cracked and dry. The damp air of the room clung to his skin, thick with the stench of urine, blood, and something rotting. A shadow moved before him. He couldn’t see it—his eyes were covered—but he felt its presence, looming, suffocating. A sharp click. The unmistakable sound of a camera shutter. “No, no, no—what are you doing?” Adrian thrashed against the restraints, the metal biting deeper into his skin. His wrists were torn, his ankles swollen. He tried to jerk away, but the rough sack over his head scratched against his bruised face, suffocating him further. A deep, amused chuckle filled the room. “I’m not the one you should beg,” the man said. Adrian’s chest tightened. The voice was cold, detached, yet oddly entertained. “Is it Lilith?” His voice cracked. “You people have taken everything from me.” “Not everything.” The words sent a chill through him. He cle

The air was thick with the stench of damp stone and decay. Adrian Sinclair lay on the cold concrete floor, his wrists raw from the tight metal cuffs that bound him. The dim light flickered overhead, barely illuminating the cramped space he had been thrown into. His head ached, his body stiff from weeks—months?—of confinement. He had lost track of time. The only sounds were the distant dripping of water and the occasional shuffle of footsteps beyond the iron door. The place smelled of mold, of unwashed bodies, of something metallic—blood, maybe. His own, or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. He exhaled sharply, shifting slightly. Pain lanced through his ribs. Probably bruised, if not broken. A reminder of the last time they had come for him. They never spoke much, his captors. Only orders, only demands. “Eat.” “Stay still.” “Talk.” But Adrian had learned long ago that silence was his greatest weapon. If they wanted him to break, they would have to work harder. A scrape echoed th

“I can explain,” I tried with a low hesitant tone. Alex turned, eyes narrowing as he reached for a black vest and slipped it over his head. “You took your sister’s diaries from the safe, didn’t you?” I didn’t bother denying it. Instead, I drew in a quiet breath, eyes fixed on the window, watching light dance off the trimmed hedges in the estate courtyard. “I had my reasons,” I said, steadier now. “And part of them is why I’m here.” I turned away just in time to avoid seeing him step into his black briefs and sweatpants. My gaze stayed glued to the distant driveway even as my skin prickled with the awareness of him behind me. “Pray tell… and what are your reasons?” “I said I’ll tell you once you eat something,” I replied calmly, motioning to the covered tray on his nightstand. “It’s past breakfast. I’ll ask the staff to make something fresh for you—because that,” I pointed, “is cold.” I added turning to fully gaze at him fully dressed in a black vest and black sweatpants.

I blinked, snapping back to reality as I stared at the same receptionist who had once led me into this very building when I came to sign the contract. Now she was leaning slightly over the front desk, her expression politely blank, her voice lined with confusion. “What?” I asked again, this time more sharply. I’d called his line earlier, sure. But I’d assumed he was just busy. Not… unavailable. “Did he say why?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay even. She squinted at the open file on her desk, her bright blue eyes narrowed slightly beneath long lashes. Dressed in a fitted black skirt and matching jacket, her high ponytail was perfectly slicked back—not a single hair out of place. She looked really pretty and professional. “No, ma’am,” she said, looking up again. “He didn’t inform us. We tried contacting him too, but his line isn’t going through.” I folded my arms and tried to act unbothered. “Right. I see…” There was a pause. Then she said, “You’d probably know what’s going

It would seem my twin was far more crazy than I ever imagined because every single one of her diary entries was laced with obsession. Page after page, she wrote about a man with blue eyes that she’d been stalking. It was night now, and I’d already retreated to bed after a quiet, draining dinner of half-warm noodle soup in the living room. Mom still hadn’t come downstairs. So I did what I always did, left her food at her door without a word. I carried the empty lunch plate back to the kitchen. At least she ate everything. The ceramic gleamed beneath the kitchen light, like it had been licked clean. Somehow, that made me feel better. A little. I felt kinda bad for going over to Alex’s house and… stealing. Well… scratch that. I didn’t steal anything. Not really. Besides, those were things I needed to see, needed to know. Regardless. What I did know now was that Drew was definitely back from Manchester. My accusations to Joseph had started off as pure bluff— But the look that fl

It made more sense in my head, at least. “What? Where do you… where do you even get such claims from?” Joseph pressed, eyes narrowing as I stared at him. “You needed him to look for me. You knew he’d find me after you lost Beatrice. After she ran away from you.” “She didn’t run away.” “She left you. Because of your—” “My what?” he snapped. “You know nothing. You absolutely know nothing.” “Hey!” A voice called from behind. I turned to the door. Seriously. They don’t knock in this company? Of course—it was Celeste. She walked in with that stupid suit then settled into a seat at the back. “I’m so sorry if I interrupted you, Daddy… Sister. But the meeting is still ongoing, and we can’t proceed without your presence. If you’ll excuse us, Sister. Daddy, please.” Joseph’s eyes shifted to her, then back to me looking almost apologetic. “Oh, it’s fine,” I muttered. “Actually, it’s fine. I’ll be going now.” “Wait—” “No, really. It’s fine.” I stood, casting one last

“I need to see you.” I whispered into the phone, my voice barely carrying over the soft tap of rain against the window. It had been raining since morning. I stood by the window, watching fat droplets slide down the glass like tears. Mom hadn’t left her room all day after our little…. Misunderstanding. I hadn’t bothered to knock either. I left her breakfast by the door hours ago, untouched. No thanks. Nothing. And honestly? I didn’t have the strength to beg for connection anymore. I needed to see Joseph. I knew he couldn’t come here. Not with Mom in the house—she’d probably hurl something at his head if she so much as heard his voice. But this wasn’t about them. It was about Beatrice. If she had really been out there, roaming free… then he needed to know. Because if Joseph didn’t get a grip on his daughter soon, she was going to do something unspeakable. And I wasn’t going to sit back and wait for it to happen. “Okay, um…Is everything alright?” “No, it’s not,” I repl

It was a Saturday and a rainy one at that. The kind that made the world feel quieter, like nature was trying to hush everything for a while. I had just finished my morning jog. Yeah, I’m one of those people now trying to stay active, trying not to be that couch potato waiting around for the next person to come kidnap me in my sleep. Not anymore. The rain began just as I bent over to dust off my sneakers, my breath slow and steady, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to my skin. I peeled the towel from around my neck and dabbed it over my face, sighing as the first drops splattered against the porch railing beside me. “Good thing I didn’t get wet,” I muttered, though oddly enough, part of me had wanted to. Wanted to feel the rain on my body like a restart. But I knew better. That wouldn’t be a good sight for the neighbors. Not that I knew them. Inside, the house was heavy with silence. Mum was here now. I’d finally discharged her from the Blackwood Hospital. She hadn’t said a single wo