Moonchildの小説

Jennifer I didn’t bother knocking. I threw open Lucian’s office door so hard it slammed into the adjacent wall with a reverberating thud that made his assistant jump. Lucian was standing by his floor-to-ceiling windows, phone pressed to his ear, staring out at the city skyline with that same vacant, distracted look he’d been wearing for weeks. He turned slowly, his expression hardening when he saw me. He ended the call without a word, dropping the phone onto his polished mahogany desk with a clatter. “Jennifer,” he said in that low, clipped tone that always made my blood heat – with both rage and want. “What is it?” I shut the door behind me and strode across the room, my black Louboutin heels thudding against the Persian rug. My reflection flashed in the glass windows as I approached him: sleek hair pulled into a flawless twist, black silk blouse tucked into an ivory pencil skirt, red lipstick bold against my pale skin. Perfect. Powerful. Everything Eloise never was. “How dare y

Eloise I woke up to the soft morning light slipping through the linen curtains, painting pale gold across my cheeks. For a moment, I lay still in bed, staring up at the ceiling with its faint cracks. My chest felt tight, as if something heavy rested atop it. Today was the day. My first international collaboration meeting with Fauné Maison. Paris. Vivienne Leclerc. Even thinking their names sent a thrill through my veins, but beneath it was a sign of fear that refused to stop. I turned to the side, watching Max sleep on his little foldable Avengers bed by my dresser. His mouth was slightly open, one hand flung out over his Power Rangers blanket, his curls messy and damp against his forehead. A quiet smile spread across my lips despite the tightness in my chest. I reached out and brushed a stray curl away, pressing a kiss to his soft temple. “Mommy has to get up now,” I whispered. He stirred slightly, turning his face into the pillow with a sleepy hum. I sat up, stretching my ar

Jennifer The sharp scent of sandalwood diffused through my penthouse, mingling with the cloying sweetness of the leftover Merlot in my glass. The evening lights of New York City glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.I sat curled on the white velvet couch, legs tucked under my thin silk robe, my phone balanced on my thigh. My thumb scrolled relentlessly through Instagram, the glow of the screen harsh against the darkened room.Every influencer. Every lifestyle blog. Every fashion curator.They were all reposting Eloise’s new brand deal announcement with Fauné Maison and Vivienne Leclerc.My chest tightened so violently I thought my ribs might shatter. My pulse thudded behind my eyes, vision blurring with rage. The caption blinked before me:“From heartbreak to haute couture. Eloise Sinclair’s breathtaking resilience lands her designs in Fauné Maison’s upcoming Parisian lookbook. #Resilience #FashionIcon”Resilience. Fashion icon. Heartbreak. As if her suffering was some kin

Eloise I sat with my laptop propped on my knees, Max curled against my side as he scrolled on my phone, humming under his breath. My fingers hovered above the touchpad, frozen, staring at the email that blinked brightly on my screen. Subject: Vivienne Leclerc x Fauné Maison Collaboration Invitation. I read the words again and again until they blurred in front of me. My stomach fluttered with something electric and light. Vivienne Leclerc. My mentor’s atelier was collaborating with Fauné Maison, a mid-tier international brand gaining traction with ethical production and minimalist sophistication. And they wanted me. My designs. In Paris. “Mommy,” Max nudged me with his little elbow, eyes still locked on his cartoon, “why you smiling like that?” I blinked rapidly, heat rushing to my cheeks. I turned to him, pressing a hard kiss to his temple. “Because…because Mommy just got a really good message,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Is it money?” he asked brightly, eyes lighting

Henry Morning came quickly. I leaned back in my leather chair, scrolling through the contract proposals for the new textile import expansion. My coffee sat half-drunk, cooling beside a neat stack of acquisition reports. I had barely slept the night before, caught between conference calls with Seoul and finalising a property purchase in L.A. I was halfway through an email draft to our tax consultants when my secretary buzzed through. “Sir, Ms Jennifer Sinclair is here to see you.” I paused, blinking once, twice, before clicking my pen shut. We didn’t schedule a meeting though…. “Jennifer Sinclair?” “Yes, sir. She says it’s important.” A small sigh escaped my lips as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. What could she possibly want now? Lucian’s name instantly flickered in my mind, bringing a frown to my face. “Send her in.” The door opened moments later, and there she was, clad in a fitted beige dress with gold buttons trailing down her torso, accentuating every curve. Her blonde

Eloise The morning sunlight spilled through the linen curtains, casting warm golden stripes across my living room floor. I sat cross-legged on the cool marble tiles, scattered sketches surrounded me. Charcoal pencils rolled across the pages with each shift of my weight as I hunched forward, squinting in focus. I traced the line of a tailored bodice, letting my pencil dip into delicate curves, flaring into bell sleeves that draped like wilted flower petals. My thumb smudged the edge to soften its fold, and for a fleeting moment, peace fluttered in my chest. Designing always felt like breathing underwater; terrifying and freeing all at once. A knock jolted me from my trance. “Come in,” I called out distractedly, still shading the hemline detail. The front door creaked open, followed by heavy footsteps padded across the living room rug. “Working already?” Mike’s deep voice floated in, lined with gentle amusement. I didn’t look up, but my lips curled faintly. “I haven’t slept.” “El

Jaxon The scent of stale whiskey and dried blood clung to my room like a curse. I lay sprawled on the wide leather couch near the window, staring blankly at the ceiling. Dust motes drifted through shafts of weak morning light slicing between the blackout curtains I hadn’t opened in days. My beard had grown thick and untamed, dark bristles covering my jaw and throat, curling slightly at the ends. My brows had overgrown too, shadowing my bloodshot eyes. When I shifted, the scruff rasped against my collarbone, sending a small shiver through my exhausted body. My hair fell in messy waves to my shoulders, heavy with grease. I hadn’t bothered to tie it back. I didn’t care. I’d stopped caring the moment she looked at me like I was filth under her boot. When her eyes burned with disgust, cutting deeper than any blade could. A week. Seven full days since she spoke to me. Seven days since her scent last lingered on my fingers. I shifted again, the leather squeaking beneath my bare back.

Ronan I sat in the dim hotel room, staring at Lila as she lay across the bed, her hair spilling over the sheets. The yellow lamplight carved shadows under her collarbones. She was scrolling through her phone, nails tapping idly against the screen. Every now and then, her lips curved in a private smile. “Babe,” I said, my voice rough from hours of silence. “We need to talk.” Her eyes flicked up, bored. “About what, Ronan?” I shifted in my seat by the window. Rain streaked down the glass behind me. I ran a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to scream. “Jaxon’s men are still searching for you,” I said slowly, tasting each word before releasing it. “They’re relentless. Talon has his trackers on full alert, and Cassian… he’s like a fucking bloodhound.” She sighed, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. “And?” “And I think you should leave Morrien. Leave the region entirely. Go to another pack territory. Lay low until this blows over.” Her gaze sharpened, slicing into me. “You

Eric I woke with a heavy head and heavier heart. The sun had barely risen over the towers, a bleak haze clinging to the windows like frost. I ran my fingers through my hair, willing the fog in my mind to clear. Servants moved quietly through my chamber, lighting incense to drive away last night’s stale perfume and my spilled whiskey. “Beta Elijah is back,” my personal servant whispered during breakfast, a smirk on his lips. “He came with a girl.” A girl. My curiosity had burned all morning. I left my chamber, ignoring the maid trying to fix my collar as I stalked down the marble halls. It felt too quiet lately, as if everyone was holding their breath for something terrible to happen. I needed laughter today, something easy, something that made sense. I found myself knocking once before pushing into Elijah’s chambers without waiting for permission. “Brother!” I announced, spreading my arms dramatically as I stepped in. “Or should I say, the ever-absent Beta finally returns to gra

Elvira I buttoned the last button of my black coat, staring at my reflection in the tall gilded mirror. My hair fell in dark waves down my back, the ends curling rebelliously. My eyes, once mossy and warm, now looked like shards of malachite under dim morning light. A glint that hadn’t been there before reflected back at me. Colder. Sharper. Deadlier. I flexed my fingers, feeling the callouses at the base of each. My wolf hummed low, restless beneath my skin. Today, it whispered, something will shift. A knock rattled my room door. I slid my dagger into its thigh sheath and straightened my posture. “Come in.” Cassian entered quietly, the scent of cold wind and cedar swallowing the lavender incense lingering from last night. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, as if he’d just come from patrol. His eyes, pale silver and unyielding, swept over me. He looked tired. New lines cut across his brow. His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Where are you going this early?” His

Hi guys, so I noticed that my views and gifters reduced despite my daily updates and honestly it discouraged me that maybe my book isn’t interesting enough, but no worries…updates have started again, thanks for sticking around 🫶🏻

Elyra I felt the retching rise again, bitter and acidic in my throat. My hand pressed to my belly, the other braced against the marble sink as I vomited for the second time that morning. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and useless. My entire body trembled with exhaustion. A gentle knock came at the door. “Lady Elyra?” One of Mother’s maids. “Her Grace requests your presence in the throne chamber.” I rinsed my mouth, staring at my reflection. My skin was sallow, my lips pale, my eyes rimmed red. I wiped a trembling hand across my mouth, forced my shoulders back, and turned to leave. As I walked down the long polished hallways, lined with heavy red drapes and golden sconces, every servant’s gaze lingered on my belly. They knew. There was no hiding it now. My stomach curved under my cream dress, the swell undeniable. I felt… exposed and raw. Like everyone could see straight through me into the secret I held so desperately. Guards pushed open the throne chamber doors for me. The smell of

Dear Readers, I can’t believe we’ve reached the end of Kelly’s story. Writing this book has been an emotional rollercoaster, and I know many of you have felt the highs and lows just as deeply as I have. Kelly’s journey wasn’t easy, there was pain, heartbreak, and moments where it seemed like happiness was out of reach. But through it all, she found strength, love, and a future worth fighting for. To everyone who stuck by this story, who cried, laughed, and rooted for Kelly, Aiden, Adrian, and even the complicated characters like Anderson and Kate, thank you. Your love and support mean everything. Though this book has ended, Kelly’s story will always live on in our hearts. And who knows? Maybe one day, there will be more to tell. But for now, I hope this ending brings you the closure and warmth that Kelly fought so hard to find. With love and gratitude, MOONCHILD.

Kelly The sun is warm against my skin, the sky a perfect colour of blue. A soft breeze carries the scent of roses and fresh-cut grass. The sound of distant laughter and murmured conversations fills the air, blending seamlessly with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere nearby. It’s perfect. Everything about this day feels surreal, like stepping into a dream I never dared to imagine. A real wedding. Not a hidden ceremony. Not a desperate attempt to silence rumors. Just love. I close my eyes for a brief moment, taking it all in. The gentle rustling of the trees. The faint sound of conversation. The quiet presence of everyone who matters. Adrian’s family is here. After months of resentment and distance, they came. His mother, his father, Olivia, both watching with cautious but genuine smiles. Susan is here, standing with them, her expression warm, proud. And in the distance, I see Aiden straightening his suit, looking nervous and determined at the same time. Harper,

KellyNine months. Nine long, exhausting, emotional months. And now, I’m here. In a hospital bed, drenched in sweat, gripping Adrian’s hand so tightly that I’m sure I’ve cut off his circulation. My body feels like it’s being torn apart, and yet, I push. “Just a little more, Kelly!” the doctor encourages. Easy for them to say. They aren’t the ones feeling like their body is being split open. Adrian leans close, his lips brushing my forehead. “You’re almost there,” he murmurs, his voice steady, calming. “I’ve got you.” Tears sting my eyes. I don’t know if it’s from the pain or the overwhelming feeling that this moment is actually happening. And then, a sharp cry fills the room. My breath catches. The world seemed to stop. The doctor lifts a tiny, wriggling body into the air. “It’s a girl!” A sob escapes me. I collapse back against the pillows, my whole body trembling. Tears slip down my temples as I hear my daughter’s first sounds. I did it. She’s here. Adrian presses a

Kelly The morning is cold, the kind of D.C winter chill that seeps through the layers of your clothes and lingers deep in your bones. I clutch my coffee cup tighter, trying to soak in the warmth as I step out of the café. The city is alive as always, cars honking, people hurrying past, lost in their own worlds. And then I see her. At first, I didn't recognize the figure crouched near the side of the building, wrapped in an oversized hoodie, the fabric frayed at the edges. Her hair is tangled, falling over a gaunt face. Her fingers, red from the cold, clutch a small cardboard sign. ‘Hungry. Please help.’My breath catches. Kate. She’s thinner than I remember. A shell of the woman she once was. She sits with her knees pulled close, gaze darting to every passerby, but no one stops. No one even looks at her. And I realize, this is what rock bottom looks like. For a long moment, I just stood there. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I move. She doesn’t notice me at fir

Kelly It happens on a quiet afternoon. Adrian and I are sitting on the couch, Harper curled up between us, absentmindedly flipping through a picture book while Adrian scrolls through emails on his phone. It’s peaceful. And then, I see his posture stiffen. I glance at him. “What’s wrong?” His brows are furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as he reads whatever message is on his screen. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he exhales, setting the phone down on his thigh. “My parents,” he says, rubbing his jaw. “They want to talk.” I blink. I wasn’t expecting that. “Talk… as in?” “As in dinner. A sit-down conversation.” He shakes his head slightly, as if he’s still processing it himself. “They sent an invitation. No conditions. Just… a request to see me.” I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. His parents and I became a sore subject, one of the few places where his love for me had cost him something. I know how deeply it hurt him when they rej

KellyThe call came in the middle of the night. I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. My first thought is that it’s Adrian, maybe he’s checking in from the living room where he sometimes falls asleep after reading. But when I grab my phone and see Susan’s name glowing on the screen, my stomach twists. I answer on the second ring. “He’s gone,” she says softly. Two words. Just two words, and for a second, I feel absolutely nothing. I sit there in the dark, the phone pressed to my ear, my mind blank. I should have expected it, Anderson’s health had been failing, and yet… hearing it, knowing it’s real, knowing there will never be another word, another regret-filled gaze, it’s different. Susan stays quiet, as if she knows I needed a moment. Then, like a wave finally crashing, it hits. A sharp, aching weight pressing down on my chest. My throat tightens, my vision blurs, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, choked sob. I feel Adrian shift be

Alex The training pavilion reeked of sweat, and fresh-cut grass. Morning sun sliced through the rafters, dappling the sanded floors with gold and shadow. The clang of swords, the crack of bone against padded mats, the sharp bark of instructors echoing commands—all of it usually grounded me, reminded me where I belonged in the hierarchy of Blackwood. Today, it only grated my already fraying nerves. I sat cross-legged on the edge of the sparring ring, elbows resting on my knees, nails tapping irritably against each other as my gaze flicked between Atlas and Jace. They sat in stony silence on the opposite bench, arms folded, bodies taut with unspoken animosity. Atlas’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, unblinking, jaw clenched so tight I wondered if he tasted blood. His raven-black hair fell across his brow, casting shadows over his eyes. Beside him, Jace lounged with an air of cold detachment, his muscular arm draped along the back of the bench, legs spread wide in that infuriatingl

Zara I sat on the edge of my thin mattress, staring blankly at the cold stone floor. The sun had only just begun to rise, spilling through the window, brushing my bare toes with trembling light. A shiver passed through me, curling around my ribs, making my chest tighten until it hurt to breathe. Eighteen. The number echoed in my mind like a chime striking midnight. I’d spent my entire life in fear of this day, counting the months in secret dread, wondering if I would live long enough to reach it… and now that it was days away, the terror felt thick and metallic on my tongue. I pressed my fingertips into the creased blanket pooled around my thighs. My nails dug crescent moons into the flesh of my palms. The room was silent except for my ragged breathing. Even though Alex’s room was down the hall, I felt her presence looming like a shadow in my thoughts. I imagined her now, asleep in her own perfect room, hair spread like a raven’s wing across silk sheets. Alex. Her name felt jagg

Atlas The moon rose slowly over Blackwood’s northern towers, casting a muted silver glow through the frost-kissed windows of my room. Its pale light slithered across the thick patterned carpet, glinting off scattered reports on my desk, illuminating the cracked spine of an abandoned textbook near my boots. Shadows stretched along the walls like silent witnesses to my unrest. I sat in the leather chair by the window, elbows braced on my knees, fingers woven tightly together as I stared out at the sleeping grounds below. From here, I could see the faint lamplights near the east gate, the stone courtyard wrapped in thin mist, the looming outline of the forest’s edge beyond the training grounds. The air felt stagnant tonight. Like it held its breath with me. My chest burned with silent anger as my father’s words replayed in my mind. “We can’t afford for her to awaken the uncontrolled. If you can’t handle it, Atlas, I’ll have Jace do it.” My jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Every mu

Jace “Liar!” Alex’s voice sliced through the suffocating silence, shrill and venomous. “He’s lying! He’s covering up for her, Headmaster. She was going through my things—” “Enough.” Kieran Ashbane didn’t even raise his voice, but the command in it snapped through the air like a whip. His golden eyes flicked to her with cold disdain. “Miss Monroe, unless you wish to join her punishment, I suggest you leave.” “But—” “I said, leave.” Alex’s mouth clamped shut, fury darkening her pretty features. She glanced between me and Zara, and for a brief moment, something like betrayal flitted across her gaze before it twisted into hatred, hatred aimed directly at Zara. She turned sharply, heels cracking against the marble as she stormed out, her aura leaving a bitter aftertaste in the room. Headmaster Ashbane sighed and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin, his gaze sliding from me to Zara with calculating laziness. The aura of his power coiled, thick and choking.

Zara I didn’t sleep that night. Even after the bells tolled midnight and the academy fell silent around me, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, counting the faint cracks in the plaster. Sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alex’s face as she slipped Mira’s diary into her satchel. Her narrowed eyes. Her precise movements. Her betrayal. By dawn, my decision was made. I waited until the morning classes began and the corridors buzzed with chatter and hurried footsteps. The air smelled faintly of coffee, as students filed into lecture halls in tight clusters, their voices weaving together into a blanket of noise that muffled my racing heartbeat. I kept my head down as I walked past the statue of Alvaro statue, the school’s first headmaster , his stone gaze following me accusingly as I slipped into the east dormitory wing. Alex’s room was near the end of the corridor, her nameplate glinting gold in the dim morning light. My hands trembled as I reached for her door

Zara The first thing I noticed when I returned to my dorm was the silence. Not the comforting kind, like early dawn before the sun rises, but the suffocating kind, dense, stale, vibrating with something wrong. I closed the door softly behind me, dropping my bag onto my bed. My eyes scanned the room automatically, cataloguing every detail. The ivory sheets tucked in place. The navy throw blanket folded at the foot. My slippers neatly aligned beneath the nightstand. My textbooks stacked from tallest to shortest on my polished mahogany desk. Everything looked… untouched. But something was missing. I felt it like an itch just beneath my ribs. Slowly, I approached my bedside drawer. My fingers curled around the handle, skin prickling with foreboding. I pulled it open. Empty. No. No, no, no. I dropped to my knees, ripping open the second drawer. Pens. Notebooks. The small velvet pouch where I kept my emergency coins. But no journal. My breath caught painfully. I reached into t