Novels by Kay-D

Oliver's POV The celebration for Daphne’s win as prima ballerina stretched late, the living room warm with wine and laughter. Daphne’s smile lit up the night, and I couldn’t stop watching her, proud of how far she’d come. Brittany had gone to bed with the twins, and after one last kiss, Daphne and I parted ways, my heart full.I went to my room, thinking I’d sleep easy for once, but a scream shattered that hope. It was Daphne, her voice high and panicked, echoing through the manor. “She’s gone! Daisy’s gone!” she yelled, and my stomach dropped.I bolted out of bed, pulling on my pajama pants, my heart racing as I ran downstairs. Daphne was in the main hall, collapsed against the wall, her face pale, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was shaking, her hands clutching her knees, and the sight of her fear hit me hard. I rushed to her, kneeling in front of her. “Daphne, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice tight with worry.She looked up, her eyes wide. “The east wing, Oliver. Daisy’s room

Daphne's POV The celebration went late into the night, the living room at Willowbrook filled with laughter and the clink of wine glasses. Oliver’s arm was around me, his warmth keeping me grounded as we talked and joked with Brittany, the twins long asleep upstairs.The thrill of winning the prima ballerina role still hummed in my chest, but as the clock passed midnight, the house grew quiet. Brittany yawned, saying she’d check on the twins and head to bed, leaving Oliver and me alone. We shared one last glass of wine, his hand squeezing mine, his eyes soft with pride.“You’re going to be amazing at the gala,” he said, kissing me gently before we parted for the night.I went to my room, but sleep wouldn’t come. My mind kept circling back to Daisy. Her comatose body was in the east wing, locked behind those iron gates, a place I’d visited countless times when I first came to Willowbrook as the governess.I’d seen her there, wired to machines, her chest rising and falling with the rhyt

Daphne's POV The green room felt too small to hold my joy after Ms. Hargrove announced I’d won the prima ballerina role. My heart was still racing, my hands trembling as I untied my pointe shoes and slipped into my sneakers.Joan had left with a curt nod, her face tight, but I didn’t care. I’d done it. I was going to dance Odette in *Swan Lake* at the gala in five days. The thought made my chest feel full, like I could breathe deeper than I had in weeks. I grabbed my phone, my fingers itching to call Oliver, to hear his voice and share this moment. He’d promised to pick me up, and I knew he’d be waiting outside, probably as nervous as I’d been.I slung my ballet bag over my shoulder and walked out of the theater, the cool evening air hitting my face. The parking lot was quiet, just a few cars under the streetlights, and there was Oliver, leaning against his black sedan, his hands in his pockets.He looked up as I approached, his hazel eyes catching the light, and a grin spread acros

Daphne's POV The morning of the prima ballerina contest announcement hit me hard, my stomach in knots as I stood in the theater’s green room, surrounded by the buzz of nervous chatter and the faint smell of hairspray. I hadn’t slept much, my mind stuck on dance steps and Joan’s smug glances from rehearsals.The gala was six days away, and today the director would name the two dancers competing for the lead in Swan Lake. I wanted it so badly it hurt, but doubt crept in, telling me I couldn’t match Joan’s flawless technique or her years in the company.I adjusted my leotard, smoothing it over my hips, and checked my reflection in the smudged mirror. My dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, my face pale under the harsh lights, but my eyes showed determination. I tied my pointe shoes, the satin ribbons familiar under my fingers, and took a deep breath. This was my chance to prove myself.I thought of Oliver, his calm voice at dinner last night, saying I was meant for this. I thought of

Daphne's POV The past few days had been a blur. Between discovering my roots, confronting Hillary, and the storm of emotions that followed, I barely had time to breathe. Yet, somehow, life was still moving forward, dragging me along with it. The ballet contest loomed ahead, just a week away, and I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Not when everything seemed to hang on this performance.This morning, I stood alone in the rehearsal room Oliver had helped transform for me, staring at my reflection in the wide mirror. The wooden floors gleamed under the light, but my face told a different story—dark circles under my eyes, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Still, I tied the satin ribbons of my pointe shoes tighter, determined to push through.The music began, soft at first, then swelling, and I let my body move. Every pirouette, every plié, every leap was heavier than the last. My legs ached, my muscles screamed, but I refused to stop. Sweat trickled down my back, stinging my skin, but

Xavier's POV I was sitting on the verandah that evening, just letting my mind wander, when Christine joined me. She didn’t waste time before speaking.“Clara called,” she said. “She told me Oliver and the Andersons left the house this morning and haven’t been back since. She doesn’t know where they went.”I acted like it didn’t matter. “Maybe they just needed space. They’ve had too much drama lately.”Christine leaned closer, watching me carefully. “Or maybe they’re hiding something.”I didn’t answer right away. But in my mind, something clicked. If Oliver and the Andersons were all gone, then the forbidden building was empty. Daisy’s body was unguarded. This could be my chance.I set my glass aside and looked at Christine. “Tell Clara to leave the back door open tonight. Don’t ask questions. Just do it.”She frowned. “Why? Where are you going?”“Just trust me,” I said. That was all she was going to get from me.After a moment, she nodded and went inside to make the call. I stood up

Five years later, the estate is no longer just a retreat. It’s a sanctuary—a living, breathing testament to the resilience of love, family, and legacy. As I stand by the grand oak tree in the heart of Seraphina’s Garden, I can hear the laughter of children echoing through the estate. My daughter is among them, her golden curls bouncing with every step as she runs around with her friends, her infectious giggle carrying on the breeze.Seraphina. The little girl who was born during a storm and who now, in the light of day, flourishes as a beacon of joy and hope. She’s everything I ever dreamed of and more. Every day, she reminds me of the strength I had when I thought I had none. And every day, she teaches me that the future is always worth fighting for.I watch as Alex kneels on the grass, helping her with the butterfly she’s carefully cupping in her hands, showing her how to let it go, how to trust the world outside. His love for her is something more than I ever imagined. A father’s l

Gina's POV There’s something sacred about peace—not just the absence of chaos, but the quiet fullness of a life hard-earned. I used to wonder if I would ever know such a feeling. Now, sitting in the sun-drenched solarium with my daughter giggling in my lap and Alex stretched beside us on the chaise, I know I’ve found it.I’ve found home.And it didn’t come wrapped in the perfect package or with a roadmap. It came in storms and secrets, in compromise and conflict, in tear-streaked nights and breathtaking mornings. It came in the arms of a man I never expected to love. And in the eyes of a child who showed me how to live without fear again.That’s why I decided to write it all down.My story.Our story.At first, it started as therapy. I needed a way to untangle the knots left behind by everything that had happened—the contract marriage, Victor’s threats, the courtroom battles, Evelyn’s truth, and the secrets buried deep within the Saxton legacy. But the more I wrote, the more I realiz

Gina's POV We named her Seraphina.The moment I held her in my arms, I knew there was no other name that could ever fit. She was born from fire and softness, from struggle and grace. And as she blinked up at me with those curious hazel eyes, so much like mine yet startlingly like Alex’s, I felt my heart permanently tether to hers.“Seraphina,” I whispered against her soft cheek, brushing a kiss there. “You’re going to change everything.”****Weeks passed in a blur of midnight feedings, lullabies hummed through tired lips, and soft coos that echoed down the estate’s halls. Alex and I were exhausted, but blissfully so. Our world had narrowed to a singular, perfect focus—her.The estate, once a symbol of looming uncertainty and painful inheritance, had become our sanctuary. But I didn’t want it to be just ours. My grandfather’s name had been dragged through courtrooms and sullied by lies. I wanted something different—a legacy rooted in healing, not conflict.That’s how the idea for the

Gina's POV The nursery smelled like fresh paint and baby powder, soft sunlight streaming through the white lace curtains that fluttered slightly in the breeze. I sat on the rocking chair near the window, my hand resting over my growing belly, which had become more prominent with each passing week. I was just seven months along, and though I felt constantly tired and achy, I also felt an overwhelming sense of love swelling inside me—more than I thought was humanly possible.Alex had just left for a quick meeting with our lawyer to finalize some estate documents. Evelyn was downstairs preparing her herbal tea mix that she claimed would "bring me peace of mind and smooth sleep," and Lana was folding tiny baby clothes in the corner of the room. It was a quiet morning. Too quiet.I shifted in my seat, rubbing my belly as a sharp ache shot up my spine. I winced but brushed it off. Pregnancy was full of strange sensations—this had to be just one of them. But a few minutes later, the ache r

Gina's POV The courtroom was colder than I remembered, its marble walls echoing the low murmurs of conversation, the clicking of heels, the scratching of pens. I wasn’t physically there—I was still confined to my bed—but through the live stream set up on my bedside table, I watched everything unfold.Alex sat at the front beside our lawyer, composed and confident in his tailored navy suit. Beside him, Evelyn, dignified in a modest beige dress, clutched a worn leather folder tightly in her lap. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes held the strength of someone ready to face the ghosts of her past.I pulled the blanket tighter around me, my heart pounding. This was it.“Court is now in session,” the bailiff announced.I gripped the edge of my blanket. This wasn’t just about reclaiming the estate anymore. It was about reclaiming the truth—our family’s truth. It was about protecting our baby’s future from a man who had threatened everything we held dear.Victor sat across the room, a

Gina's POV The room was silent except for the steady ticking of the antique grandfather clock that stood tall near the window. I lay in bed, propped up with an array of soft pillows, my hands gently resting on my growing belly. The sun had barely risen, but I hadn’t slept. My mind buzzed with anxiety, thoughts turning in endless circles.Alex had been pacing the hallway since dawn, talking to lawyers and strategists, his voice hushed but urgent. I could feel the weight of our reality pressing down harder with each passing day. The threat Victor posed wasn’t just legal anymore—it was dangerous, personal. And with each letter from Evelyn, each scrap of evidence we uncovered, the stakes only grew.I had never imagined a world where my family’s legacy could turn into a battlefield, or where protecting my unborn child would mean playing dangerous games of deception and strategy.When Alex finally stepped into the bedroom, his face was pale but determined. His suit was pressed, his tie per