April Hale Novels & Stories

I didn’t need to hear more. It was what I’d wanted. Valerie Hale was finally opening the door, and I would be the one to step inside. And I was going to be sure I sank in so deep that neither one of them could read the damage that I made until it was too late. When I turned, Annalise was standing in the doorway of my apartment. She always looked like a ghost when she entered without knocking, pale, calculating, beautiful in a way that promised ruin. “She called you,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “And you allowed it to happen.”

“On what?” Dylan chuckled quietly before tossing a tablet onto the table in front of me. “Your relationship.” My eyes moved down to the screen. Several articles filled the page. TRISTAN ROSS SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY WOMAN BUSINESS HEIR FINALLY OFF THE MARKET? WHO IS THE GIRL BESIDE TRISTAN ROSS? There were pictures from outside the restaurant. Some showed Iris holding onto my arm while cameras flashed around us. Others showed me with my hand against her back while leading her toward the car.

I offered smoothly, trying to defuse the bomb before it blew. “You will do no such thing, my dear! Halle, apologize to everyone at this table or leave right now!” Mrs. Reyes ordered, her gaze bouncing between me and her defiant younger daughter. “I don’t even have an appetite anymore. I'm going to my room,” Halle muttered, storming off toward the stairs while mumbling under her breath. Though she was far away, I caught the tail-end of her bitter muttering: “...Stupid introductions every time, yet they never stay anyway...”

Mom finally left to take a bath and I was dosing off. In the middle of giving in to sleep I saw a figure leaving the room but not sure if I was just seeing things. I slept anyways. (DENVER HALES POV): I kept my gaze on the sky and still seated on the grass in the field, I leaned on the tree behind me. Where is she? Why has she not come here? I have to take her. I need to take her with me. I closed my eyes as a cool air blew passed my face, revealing it in the moonlight.

“Should I dye my hair pink?” “Nathaniel.” “No, seriously.” I spread my arms. “Is that the requirement? Do I need pink hair?” Mr. Hale's jaw tightened. “You have no right to insert yourself into my business.” My smile disappeared. “Your business?” “Yes. Mine.” Mr. Hale's voice remained calm, but there was steel beneath it. “Whether I'm gay, who I spend time with, and what I do in my personal life has nothing to do with you.” I stared at him.

he whispered. She arched her brows, "that's the most absurd thing sef ." she replied, not bothering to keep the same hushed tone as him. "Exactly..." he concurred almost immediately before he paused. Blinking at her in confusion "wait. What's absurd?" April flipped her hair in sass, "the fact that I'm April Waje. The world's best hot shot celebrity and A-list actress of the century hiding in this wretched, godforsaken building all because of a measly picture is more than absurd." she declared, sneering in irritation at the last part as though it was truly a god forbid thing that she would never want to be caught doing.

Mrs Macaulay a fair-skinned lady in her late forties asks. Mrs Macaulay is a fair-skinned woman in her late forties. She is a widow with two daughters, her husband died four years into there marriage. She had been the one catering for her two daughters. Her husband wasn't really successful when he was alive, but at least they were living comfortably. She currently has two malls. With some landed properties. "Not yet. Mum, " Trisha responds. "I'm wondering what you are waiting for, " Mrs Macaulay says in a harsh tone. Making Trisha rolls her eyes. She knew she was dead if her mum caught her.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her defiant eyes, the way her lips tasted of whiskey and rebellion, the stubborn strength she carried like armor. April wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. She was a storm—wild, untamed, and utterly unshaken by the weight of the world around her. She’d invaded my thoughts, my dreams, my very soul. I gripped the balcony railing until my knuckles turned white. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, its agitation mirroring my own. “You left her,” he growled in the back of my mind.

I was making my way to the corner of the house where I was to meet Sylvia who would smuggle me back in when I bumped into someone running at me. “Hey!” April exclaimed as we collided, a sniffle following her words as if she had been crying. “Who are you?” She stopped me when I tried to walk around her. I had to bite down hard on my lips to stop my wolf’s snarls from leaking. Rather than engage her, I tried to sidestep her again but she cut off my path. “You look like a suspicious person.” She blocked me again. “Who are you?” She grabbed my cloak and yanked. The hood lowered and her red eyes widened. “O – Oh, Persephone.”

He looked like a storm trying not to destroy everything around it. And then I walked into the lion’s den. Bright lights burned against my skin as I sat opposite the host, Vanessa Reeve — a woman whose smile could slice glass. Her crimson dress glimmered beneath the lights, and her perfume, sharp and floral, clawed at my throat. “Welcome, everyone,” she began, her voice dripping with polished confidence. “Today, we have with us the woman the world cannot stop talking about — Maya Hale. The human at the center of the most controversial love story of the decade.”