Novels by Chithority

Evelyn – POVThe night was heavy—too quiet, too still. The kind of stillness that made your thoughts echo louder than your heartbeat.I sat upright on my bed, eyes dry but soul flooded. Why did I feel like this? Why now?Why him?I had spent years building up my walls, brick by bitter brick. Teaching myself how to hate him. How not to remember. How to let go of the man who had chosen everything—power, pride, even betrayal—over me.But now… now all I could think about was whether he was in pain. Whether he could still breathe without hurting. Whether he was even alive.I hated that I cared.I hated it because I shouldn’t.But pain does strange things. I’ve died a thousand quiet deaths because of Sebastian Rodgers—and now, hearing that he might be dying for real?I didn’t feel triumphant. I felt… hollow.“Mummy?”The tiny voice struck like a crack of thunder. I blinked, startled, and turned toward the door.Anastasia stood there, hugging the edge of the doorway. Behind her, Master Rolla

Evelyn povThe gold-plated nameplate gleamed on the office door.EVELYN WOODS – CEOI stood in front of it longer than I meant to, staring like it might blink first. It didn’t.It was real.This was real.I pushed the door open.Same office—but everything felt different. The air was new. The walls smelled faintly of fresh paint, and the carpet beneath my heels whispered wealth with every step. Even the chair—the high-backed executive one I handpicked months ago—still held the scent of expensive leather.I’d arrivedThis was how I celebrated my wins: quietly. Without confetti. Without applause. Just the silence of a room I built with blood and grit.I should’ve felt something.Joy. Relief. Closure.But all I felt was… stillness.mBehind me, Liam nearly skipped into the room, the grin on his face wide enough to touch both ears. In his hands, a chilled bottle of wine sparkled like a trophy, droplets slipping down the glass.“Can you believe it, Ma Evelyn?” he beamed. “We’re here! We actu

Sabatine’s POVThe sterile scent of antiseptic and soap clung to the air like a second skin, coating everything, me included in its cold, impersonal shroud. It was always like this. Morning or night, time blurred in this place, and that smell never left.My body, once a vessel of power and command, now lay limp beneath the pale hospital sheet. A cruel joke. Muscles that once responded with precision and force now betrayed me with every motion they refused to make. I was a prisoner in my own skin.I felt her before I saw her, the new maid. Her hands moved across my chest with practiced care, wiping me clean. Her touch wasn’t familiar, not like the old one’s, but it wasn’t cruel either. Just… clinical. Efficient. Distant.She didn’t speak. None of them ever did anymore. Not to me. Not really. They talked at me. Instructions. Updates. A soft “you’ll feel a little cold now.”God, I hated this part of my day.Being washed. Fed. Shifted like a fragile piece of porcelain no one knew what to

Sebastian’s POVThe air in the hospital room felt heavier today.Not because of the beeping machines or the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the white walls. No. This weight was personal. Deep. A slow, choking pressure that seemed to press down on my lungs every time I tried to breathe.Maybe it was my own chest, tight with thoughts I couldn’t voice.Or maybe it was the silence Vanessa left behind, thick with venom and disappointment.Or maybe…Maybe it was the thought of Evelyn The memory of her haunted me worse than the paralysis. Her voice, her laughter, the way she used to look at me, before it all went to hell. Before I threw everything away.I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream.But I could think.And God, the thoughts wouldn’t stop. They kept folding in on themselves, multiplying like poison in a wound. Memories, regrets, questions I couldn’t ask and confessions I’d never get the chance to say.I closed my eyes, trying to shut it all out.But the door creake

Sabatine’s POV. I woke up in a hospital bed, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air like an unwelcome guest. It stung my nose, sharp and unfamiliar. My eyelids felt like sandpaper, heavy and sluggish as I tried to lift them. A dull ache pulsed at the back of my skull, and my entire body felt foreign, like I’d borrowed someone else’s skin for the day. Where was I? More importantly, why was I here? My thoughts were muddy, like trying to read words through fogged glass. No clear memories came to mind, only fragments. A car. Screeching tires. A sharp jolt. Darkness. Before I could grasp anything solid, the door creaked open. A nurse entered, her scrubs a pale blue blur as she approached my bedside. “Hi, Mr. Sabatine, can you hear me?” Her voice was calm but cautious, as if afraid I might shatter if she spoke too loudly. I tried to respond, but even blinking felt like a monumental task. My eyes fluttered weakly, barely managing to focus on her. Then I felt it.

– Sabatine’s POVIt’s been two days since I returned from Chicago.Two long, strangely fulfilling days.For the first time since Evelyn walked out of my life, the fog that clouded my mind was beginning to lift, because finally, I had something. A thread. A trail. Concrete updates about her whereabouts.Every morning, like clockwork, my phone buzzed with details, what she did, where she went, who she spoke to. I knew the streets she walked on. The café she now preferred. Even the time she took her children to school.Her children.I couldn’t stop myself from reading those updates over and over, imprinting them into my brain. It was ridiculous, maybe even borderline obsessive, but I wanted more. I craved it. If I could plant surveillance cameras around her entire neighborhood without getting arrested, I probably would have done it already.Because just the thought of catching a glimpse of her, watching her move through her day, brushing her daughter’s hair or holding her son’s hand, it