Novel-novel oleh Mary

I hadn’t stepped foot into the Fisher estate in two months.Not since that night.The night Leah broke my heart in front of everyone I loved. The night I saw my grandmother’s carefully constructed web snap—and realized I’d been a pawn in my own life.Since then, I’d buried myself in work, in silence, in long drives that led nowhere and whiskey bottles I never finished. I told myself I needed space. Clarity. That I couldn’t think with the echo of her voice still in my ears.But clarity never came.And the silence only made it worse.I hated her.I missed her.And more than anything—I loved her.That was the part I couldn’t shake. Not even when I tried. Not even when I wanted to.So when Grandma called out of the blue and asked me to come home—"Just for tea,” she said—I almost said no. But something in her voice wasn’t quite… right.So I came.The moment I stepped through the front door, Jasper gave me a strange look. Not judgmental. Just… hesitant.I nodded at him. “Hey.”“She waited h

Two months.That’s how long it’s been since the party. Since Michael’s voice cut through the air like glass and shattered the version of us I’d been holding onto with both hands.Two months of silence.I haven’t heard from him—not even a whisper through someone else. The man who once used to call me his light, who used to send me pictures of his lunch just so I could make fun of how fancy it looked, has disappeared.I think the worst part isn’t the silence itself.It’s that I understand it.And maybe, in a way, I deserve it.I go through the motions now. I wake up. I help my father around the house. I make the same tea my mom used to drink before she passed—chamomile, with just a touch of honey. I fold laundry while reruns play in the background, the kind Michael used to roll his eyes at before secretly watching the whole episode with me. I walk past my reflection and barely recognize her—this version of me that’s quieter, duller, more fragile than before.Some nights, I hear my dad u

It was supposed to be the best night of our lives.The garden shimmered under golden lights, every tree outlined like something out of a fairytale. Guests wandered between marble tables, glasses of champagne in hand, laughter and the soft hum of string instruments filling the night air.Leah had no idea.That was the best part.She thought it was just a party—for fun, maybe a belated birthday surprise. She didn’t know I’d spent the last two months planning every detail, or that I’d invited everyone who meant something to us.Trey and Liam stood near the bar in sharp tuxedos, nodding as I passed. Grandma Fisher sat like royalty beneath the wisteria-covered archway, wearing that unreadable expression she always wore—part amused, part watchful. My father, whom I’d only recently forgiven, actually showed up. And Leah’s family—her father, her younger siblings—stood a little in awe of the extravagance. Her dad was holding a drink he hadn’t touched, just… watching her.And Leah?God.She look

It was evening when Michael insisted I wear the black satin dress he picked out “just for tonight.” The moment I stepped into it, I knew he was planning something. He looked at me like I was something sacred. Dangerous, even. But he wouldn’t say what was going on.The car ride was quiet, except for his fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel and the occasional glance at me like he was holding in a secret that could explode if he smiled too wide.“Where are we going?” I asked for the third time.He grinned, eyes still on the road. “Somewhere that matters.”My heart hummed with both dread and excitement.We pulled up to a large garden villa strung with fairy lights. Music drifted softly through the evening air, carried by laughter and clinking glasses. Michael came around and opened my door, offering his hand like I was a queen stepping into a ballroom.Inside, people were mingling, smiling—faces I didn’t know, but all of them clearly there for something, or someone. I blinked.

I stood outside Grandma Fisher’s house for five full minutes before ringing the bell, watching my reflection in the polished brass like it held answers. I looked… composed. Mostly. But my heart thudded like I was about to walk into a courtroom instead of a sunroom.Jasper, the butler, answered with his usual stoicism and ushered me into the conservatory, where the queen herself was holding court among her orchids and afternoon tea. She looked impossibly elegant in a cream silk blouse, sleeves rolled just enough to be casual—but not careless.When she spotted me, she didn’t look surprised. Of course she didn’t.“Well,” she said, setting down her porcelain teacup, “either you’ve come to confess something... or ask for money. And if it’s the second, you’re far braver than I thought.”I forced a smile as I stepped forward. “No money. Just the truth.”That earned a raised brow. “My favorite kind of trouble.”She gestured to the seat across from her. I sat down, spine stiff, unsure whether

I felt the weight of the lie before we even stepped into the parlor.Michael's hand grazed mine as we entered, offering comfort, but my pulse was already racing. This was it. The moment we unraveled it all—the fake marriage, the contract, the deception. I The moment we told his grandmother the truth.Only, she already knew.She sat in her usual chair by the window, bathed in the soft afternoon light, porcelain teacup poised between two perfectly manicured fingers. Calm. Regal. Untouchable. She looked like someone expecting guests to confess to borrowing a vase, not orchestrating a love story laced with lies.Michael stood beside me, shifting his weight like he might bolt. I remained seated, spine straight, hands folded in my lap, holding in the tremble.Grandma Fisher didn't glance up. “Well,” she said. “Someone say something before I assume you've joined a cult.”Michael cleared his throat. “It’s about the marriage,” he said, voice low. “It wasn’t real. At first.”She looked up slowl