Novels by My Masterpiece

Aria’s POVMorning light had never felt so cruel. It cut through the curtains like shards of glass, spilling across the floor where last night’s newspapers lay in ruins.Julian hadn’t come to bed. His side was cold, untouched. I found him hours later in the study, sitting in the dark, the glow of the TV painting his face in harsh blues.He didn’t need to say a word. The headline on-screen said it all:“EXCLUSIVE: Ethan Langston Claims Fatherhood Live on National Television.”The footage played again—Ethan seated in a sleek studio, perfectly groomed, his expression solemn. “It’s time I tell the truth,” he’d said, hand pressed to his chest like a martyr. “I made mistakes, but the child Aria carries is mine. And I will love that baby regardless of what Julian Huxley’s money or lawyers say.”My stomach turned.Julian muted the screen, his voice low and rough. “He just declared war.”I sank into the chair opposite him, hands trembling. “The world believes him, doesn’t it?”He didn’t answer

Aria’s POVA week had passed since Julian’s statement, but the storm had not quieted.If anything, it had sharpened—spinning faster, tighter, until the air itself seemed to hum with rumor.Every morning, new headlines bloomed like poison.“Huxley Hero or Hypocrite?”“Langston Exposes His Rival’s Lies.”“Mystery DNA Tests Surface in Billionaire Feud.”I stopped reading after the first few days. Emily tried to confiscate my phone; Julian wanted to shut off the internet entirely. But the noise always found a way in. It seeped through the walls, through whispers from staff, through the flashes of paparazzi cameras outside the building.The world had decided to treat my pregnancy like a spectator sport.Julian’s campaign office had moved into crisis mode. He spent his days in endless meetings, his nights drafting statements that lawyers tore apart before he could send them.Sometimes I caught him staring at the framed sonogram on his desk, the single grainy image that represented our fragi

Aria's PovThe first call came at dawn.No greeting. No voice. Only silence and the faint sound of someone breathing on the other end.I hung up, convinced it was a wrong number—until it rang again.Same pause. Same breath.Then a whisper so soft it scraped like sandpaper.“HE KNOWS.”I froze. My pulse thundered in my ears. “Who is this?”The line went dead.Outside, New York was waking—sirens, traffic, the hum of a city that never cared about individual fear. But inside the penthouse, the world had gone still. I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach. Ethan knew.Julian was already dressed when I reached the kitchen, tie knotted, expression carved from stone. He’d been up all night again, the faint stubble on his jaw a reminder that even billionaires could unravel.“You should eat something,” he said without looking at me.“I’m not hungry.”“You need to keep your strength up.” His eyes flicked briefly to my abdomen—then away, as if the word PREGNANT might summon catastrophe.I slid i

Aria's PovThe house no longer felt like home. Every corner carried the echo of Ethan’s voice, every shadow reminded me of his smile in the dark. Even surrounded by Julian’s security, with guards posted on every floor, I felt exposed — as though Ethan was always watching, waiting.And maybe he was.I closed the balcony curtains tighter, then pressed a hand against my stomach. Still flat, but no longer mine alone. A flicker of life pulsed inside me, fragile and unspoken. Only Julian knew. Only Emily knew.And God help me if Ethan ever found out.Emily arrived mid-morning, bursting in with that whirlwind of energy only she carried. She wrapped me in a hug before I could protest, her perfume sharp and grounding.“You look pale,” she said, pulling back, her dark brows knitting together. “You’ve been hiding again, haven’t you?”“I’m fine,” I lied automatically.“Fine?” She gave me that look, the one that stripped through every layer of pretense. “Aria, you’re carrying a baby, hiding it fro

Aria’s POVMy phone nearly slipped from my hands. The photo glared up at me, Gabriella curled peacefully in her bed, her stuffed panda tucked under her chin. The timestamp was from minutes ago.Beneath it, Ethan’s words bled into my vision: She’s safer with me. Always was. Always will be.My chest seized. My legs buckled. “Julian.” My voice cracked, thin and jagged.He crossed the balcony in two strides, eyes darting to the screen. The color drained from his face. His hand clenched so tightly around the railing I heard the metal groan.“He was here,” I whispered, horror strangling me. “Julian, he was *inside the penthouse.*”Julian’s face hardened, every muscle tensing. He stormed inside, barking orders into his phone. “Lock down the building. Check every camera. No one leaves, no one enters.”I followed, my heart pounding. “How did he get in? You doubled security!”“He bribed them.” His voice was raw with fury. “Or he replaced them. I don’t know.” He snapped to the guards stationed a

Aria’s POVI didn’t sleep. Not after Ethan’s voice had slithered through the night like poison.I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, waiting for Julian to come back. He’d been gone for hours, locked away in his office downstairs, pacing, planning, drowning in the weight of whatever secret he thought he could still protect.When the door finally creaked open, dawn light spilled across the room. Julian stood there, jacket gone, shirt wrinkled, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said quietly.“I did.” My voice was raw. “Ethan was here.”His body went rigid. “What?”“He bribed your security. Walked straight in.” I rose, my hands trembling. “He told me you’ll never save me because you’re hiding something from me. And he’s right, Julian. You are.”His eyes darkened, a storm building. “He’s playing you.”“No,” I snapped. “He’s playing us. And he’s winning because you keep lying to me.”He closed the door slowly, as though buyi