Decisive Novels & Stories

But in assumption. ⸻ “And when he realizes that?” I asked. Shawn didn’t answer immediately. Because that— Was the pivot point. ⸻ “He won’t,” he said finally. “Not until it’s too late.” ⸻ That sent something quiet through me. Not doubt. Not hesitation. But awareness. ⸻ Because “too late”— Wasn’t just strategic. It was decisive. ⸻ The office emptied slower that evening. Not unusually. But noticeably. ⸻

"I'm Decider Three of Ascendant Creed. You can just call me Decider Three." "Sure. Doesn't exactly scream important, does it?" she sneered. "But go on." Decider Three fell silent. Leah was speechless as well. Decider Three didn't get angry. If anything, his smile widened. "I like you. Even your sense of humor."

He doesn’t argue Because he knows I’m right The Decision Builds The figure stands still Not frozen Calculating Every possible outcome Every risk Every consequence Across all layers And still It cannot resolve the contradiction Because this decision Has no precedent The First Crack in Perfection “…Insufficient data.” I step closer “Then get more.” That lands Harder than anything else Because for the first time It has to admit It doesn’t know enough And that changes everything The Shift Begins The air tightens slightly Not in pressure In focus The figure raises its hand

Jesse leaned beside him. “To what?”Marcus pointed.“To the idea that something is adapting to them.”That loop changed everything.Everlyn watched a live discussion from one of the largest councils.A woman stood in front of a crowd, speaking clearly:“If something is influencing us, then we need to make our decisions harder to predict.”The crowd murmured.Then nodded.Another voice added,“Disagree more. Not less.”

He was a key piece, one that needed to be carefully maneuvered, or removed altogether. The figure watched as the man’s car disappeared around a corner, then turned away from the window, moving to a desk cluttered with documents, maps, and a laptop. They sat down and began typing, their fingers moving swiftly over the keys. Each keystroke was a calculated move in the intricate chess game they were playing—a game where every player was a potential pawn or a threat.

She stood in the middle of the room and turned to face him. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" she asked him. Joey took a deep breath. "Look, Penny" he began, "I know that you are mad" "You know nothing, Joseph Raines" Penny cut in, "You have no idea how mad I am. How long have you been planning this. I know it wasn't a decision you made out of blue because I know you, Joey, and you won't do something like that without giving it some thought"

The painful sting that I feel whenever I turn my head reminds me that I can't ignore this cancer for much longer. I need to make a decision quickly before Model Perfect, Freddie, or Arlo makes it for me. If Hunter found out he would use the knowledge to his advantage to gain something. If Tanya Pennington found out she would use it to crush my career or have me kicked out of the Winter Paris Collection Competition.

The room felt like it was closing in on me, the darkness pressing closer with every second that ticked by. Alex Esposito—the man who thought he could use me as a pawn—was about to learn the hard way that I wasn’t the type to be easily manipulated. The door creaked open, and I turned my head just as Alex strode in, his every movement radiating the kind of detached confidence that only someone like him could pull off. He barely spared me a glance, his eyes sweeping the room like he was appraising a piece of his personal collection. Immaculate suit. Ice-cold demeanor. He looked every bit the ruthless heir to the Esposito empire—and he knew it.

His voice was very soft but thanks to the night air, my ears could pick it up. I looked up and met his grey eyes. “What? You brought wine too?” I kneeled down and carefully turned the basket. “I’m not sure I want to open it.” The basket was heavy, I could tell that it was packed with many things inside. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I added, “why did you have to throw it away?” “Because the choice is either having you fall or,” he paused and kneeled beside me. “That.” Frazier pointed at the basket. “In split seconds, I had to make a decision and I chose you. Screw the basket.”