Novels by Emel Emerald

The Hall's laughter soured. It was too long, creaky and brassy, off glass and marble until it ceased to be laughter at all, but a cry for rescue. The guests were already wriggling in their seats. Scandal was amusing, yes—but when pillars of family began to quiver in sunlight, even the wolves weren't quite sure how much. Samuel Blackwood knew that. And Samuel Blackwood didn't let fractures develop. --- He stood up from the chair like a man who owned the earth. The players stumbled like men who could smell the burden of the shift on the breeze, their strings tangling into quiet. The quiet stole, fraying like smoke initially, clotted and throttling, until all of the eyes were on him. Samuel did not lift his glass to invite attention—his presence did that for him. He let the silence build until tension snapped along spines and the hack in the back of the hall was enough to shake the conscience-stricken flinch. Not yet. "My friends," his low voice growled, velvet-roughened steel, "I

The celebration continued as if the band would not even miss a single broken string. Glasses clashed on, servants shifted from table to table, and music swirled like a cloud in beams of chandeliers. But behind everything, there was a shadow, a shadow even the sun could not dispel: the shadow of Leya's downfall. She had retired from the hall in shame. Shame is, however, a sticking paste—not to the shamefaced, but to the lookers-on. --- With a row of tables down the centre, Eleanor leaned over two visitors, her smile fixed, her voice low enough to be as honey but keen enough to bite. Don't you realize?" she panted, twirling her fan. "She's dainty. Unpredictable. Barely stable enough to balance a tray, much less the Blackwood name." The woman across from her table glared, eyes flashing hatred. One inched forward, speaking barely above a whisper, "Good luck for Harrison—to be saddled with such a wretched little goody-goody." Eleanor's laughter was as delicate as glass on mar

Music stirred again after laughter. Strings and went with the tide that cared not to see pain which had ripped at the air a moment before. Crystal glasses clinked, perfumes capered in the air with lamb waiting and pie crust crumbling, and Leya in the hall shadows, shaking fingers, wet face still, melt cream wet on. Her dress had stuck to her skin, sour and wet. Her neatly brushed hair now shared the shame. Every word, every glance is a blade to the throat, worse than the shame, worse even than the laughter that was the absence of hope from her heart. --- If she had sinned more, then she might have understood. She had begged him. Her gaze had passed over the chandeliers, past the sparkle of suit and cocktail dress, past the aura of perfume and cigar. And landed on him. Harrison. He remained across the hall, a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, His shoulders straightened, his face condescending. His lips were thin and smiling as if the entire world curtsied to amuse h

The formerly silent and music-free hallway vibrated with repressed tension, interrupted by muffled moans and laughter. Leya's excess was still in the air around the chandeliers, air still heavy with the fight—a disgusting reminder of spilled wine, crushed food on the highly buffed floor, the acrid odor of pepper suspended in the air. Eleanor sat rigid as a plank along the table, her complexion turning white under the powder with fury, She seethed with anger as she soaked her dress with a napkin, attempting to remove the stains, but no one could erase what had been done. "She's shamed us," she despised Vivian, speaking ice-cold as glass. "In front of everyone. Can you hear them? They have already begun gossiping." Vivian, fought over in the second play, curves an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth ricked back into a scornful grin as if enjoying gallows humor over the tragedy. "Let them talk," she growls, looking out at the crowd. "They're smoke—blow in the wind, but with a good blow,

The corridor still shook with indignation. Wine had been spilled, peppery water, and shame hung in the air about the room. Guests hid behind gemstone fans and crystal glasses, struggling with euphoria and scandal. Reputation was everything to the Blackwood family—and their walls had been breached tonight.There were no evil eyes in the room, however.Lolling indolently in the doorway of a room, half-concealed behind the edge of a marble column, stood Shayla Anderson statuesquely.She was less graciously invited than she was overlooked, forgotten in the understanding that several other guests were circulating the house and no one seemed to notice that a young woman had materialized out of nowhere, her simple dress amidst silks and jewels. She did not participate in games, but only so that she could see for herself what kind of life her elder sister had begun.She had known then.Her knuckles bunched into her own flesh, fingernails scoring skin as she replayed the scene in her mind: rat

Chilling, mirthless laughter cracked in the air like broken glass, cutting along the corridor like ghosts. The sparkling chandelier above appeared to descend, throwing its derisive light upon the very glacéed marble floor upon which Leya served wine, dress open, pride in rags.Eleanor leaned back in her seat, sipping wine like a conqueror on spoils. Venom fang of the snake gleamed on Vivian's smile as she announced to the crowd of well-wishers her and their rings of laughter which later on came ripped like sniping.Leya stiff, breast rising to shallow gasps. Skin slick with sweat, hair streaming champagne, heart hammering as if it would burst out of her breast. She'd anticipated so much cruelty at Blackwood Hall, but this—never such raw emptiness from people who enjoyed her shame.---She gazed at Harrison once more.He remained still.A man in charge, his jaw clenched but for that suggestion of amusement around the edges of his mouth. And when at last she did find him—desperation, ba

The Last Battle – Axel's Final Stand The triplets burst into Audrey's apartment, closing the door. Audrey sat in the middle of the room, holding herself, face white. Jasmine gave her a quick glance. "You okay?" Audrey nodded but winced her hands. Jayla sighed deeply. "You should have mentioned it when he called." Audrey gazed down. "I thought I could handle it." Jade snorted. "Not with Axel. He doesn't listen to no." Jasmine stood by the window, narrowed eyes intently focused as she gazed out. Then she froze. Outside, in front of the window, on the street, a black car. A dark figure in the car. Watching. Waiting. Her heart was pounding. He was here. She spun to her sisters, low voice, resolute. "He's outside." Audrey's eyes widened. "What?" Jayla leaped to the window to look out. Jade cursed under her breath. "That psycho." Jasmine breathed slowly, deeply, attempting to soothe herself. She wasn't scared. She was angry. Axel had done enough already. Sarah was d

The Final Stand – Axel's Last Gamble Audrey was on her couch in her apartment, frowning at her phone, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. Her gut clenched. She knew who it was. The second it started ringing she knew. A shiver ran down her spine, her heart racing. Axel. He was calling her. She swallowed hard, her fists tight. She had blocked him. Had changed her routine. Had tried to close him out of her life. And yet. He'd somehow come back anyway. The ringing stopped. A voicemail message showed up. She was breathing irregularly as she hit play. And then his voice was smooth and even, weighted with something sinfully wicked bouncing off of the walls. "Audrey he said, did you really think I'd let you go that easily?" Her blood went cold. "We both know you still think of me. Of us." Her fists clenched on the phone. No. No, she didn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't. "I gave you your space. I let you pretend. But it's time to come home, sweetheart." Audre

The Fall of a Legacy – Their Father Is Brought to Account Their father slumped in the interrogation room, the stark metal table between him and the detectives. For the first time in his life, he was not in charge. His expensive attorneys weren't going to get him out of this today. His influence, his name, his power—it meant nothing now. The seasoned detective dropped a file onto the desk, reopening it. Pictures. Documents. DNA tests. It all lay before him. "You drew up official papers," the detective said, his own voice tightly controlled. "You drew up fake papers and left your firstborn daughter to live and live comfortably. His father's jaw clenched. The detective continued, "And because of that, Sarah spent her entire life believing she wasn't wanted." A bitter silence. "And now she's dead." For a moment—a fleeting moment—something passed through his father's eyes. Regret? Guilt? Maybe. But too little, too late. The detective leaned in.

The Last Truth – A Mother's Justice The triplets were in their mother's living room, the weight of what they had to say very much on their minds. Their mother sat opposite them, her fists clenched on the armrests of the chair while her face was set in stiff lines. Jasmine took a deep breath. "Mom… we've got something to say." Jayla leaned forward. "Something about Dad." Jade sighed. "And Sarah." Her mother's eyebrows jerked with horror when she said the name Sarah. "What about her?" Jasmine's voice was constricted, but she fought to say something. "She was our sister." Their mother's breath stalled. Her hand gripped the chair as her knuckles turned white. No one uttered a word for a second. Then, in a whisper just above a murmur— "What did you just say?" Jayla swallowed hard. "Sarah… she was Dad's daughter." Jade paused before saying again, "His first daughter." Their mother turned white. "That's not… that's not possible." Jasmine pulled out the pro

The Aftermath – Shadows of the Past The triplets sat in silence, the weight of the news pressing down on them. Sarah was dead. And even after everything she had done. Even after the lies, the betrayals, the destruction It didn’t feel like a victory. Jade let out a slow breath, staring at the floor. “I thought I’d feel… relieved.” Jayla shook her head, her voice quieter than usual. “Me too.” Jasmine's clutch on her cup of coffee spasmed. "She was our sister." Jayla grumbled unwillingly. "Half-sister." Jasmine shut her eyes. "It doesn't matter." For in the end, Sarah had been as lost as they had once been. The difference? She never had her way back. Fraser and Tressa – A New Beginning, or a New Threat? Tressa turned a lock of hair around her finger, watching out the apartment window. "She's really gone," she murmured. Fraser, who stood behind her, let out a deep sigh. "Yeah." Tressa’s chest tightened. Sarah had been many things—an enemy, a rival, a storm in human form.

The Aftermath – A New Future, A Lingering Past Sarah retreated from the front door of Fraser's, her heart pounding in her ears. She'd dreamed to herself for months that she might possibly be able to fix what she'd broken. That she could win him back. But now? Now, she knew more. She'd been too late. Fraser's moved on. And not with someone. With Tressa. A woman as clever, as cunning, as smart as Sarah used to be. Sarah's fists clenched. She'd lost before. But this? This was not the same. This had been done. And she was not so sure that she could do that. And meanwhile – Fraser and Tressa's New Beginning Tressa shut the door, breathing softly as she smiled at Fraser. "A knight?" she said, regarding him. Fraser rubbed at his hair, jaw locked. "That was. unexpected." Tressa smiled, leaning on the wall. "Seriously? You didn't think she'd come crawling back sooner or later, or something?" Fraser breathed slowly. "Part of me did, yes. But that moment I just saw her?"