Elena Reed Novels & Stories

By afternoon, the penthouse felt suffocating. Elena wandered from room to room without settling anywhere. His books. His schedules. His routines. Everywhere she looked, she saw pieces of the life she had built around him. Even the flowers in the living room had been chosen because he had once mentioned preferring white roses over red. She stopped beside them. When had she become so easy to overlook? Her phone vibrated on the couch. Daniel Reed. She hesitated before answering. “Hello?” “You sound exhausted.” She gave a small laugh.

Elena felt herself relaxing, her worries melting away as she enjoyed the tranquil surroundings. Liam broke the silence by asking Elena about her work at Nixon Tech. Elena hesitated for a moment, recalling her bad experience at the company. However, she felt comfortable enough with Liam to open up about it. She told him about Isabella, the woman who had caused her and her best friend Scarlett to lose their jobs. She spoke about how she had been denied the opportunity to showcase her software herself to the public, despite her hard work and dedication.

Lena's POV. “You are nothing but a clown I raised. You will die worthless and nobody will think you ever existed, not me, not even Dominic,” Elaine fumed at me with a knife in her hand. I pulled back breathing rapidly. She launched at me, screaming furiously, and I ran in any direction, my heart throbbed and my hands trembled. She was a few inches from thrusting the weapon at me when I tripped on my feet and fell to the ground.

“Speak.” Elias cleared his throat. “She arrived in Silverveil six years ago with her mother, Mira. They moved into an old cottage on the eastern edge of the territory. Elara works as a healer’s assistant at the local clinic. Quiet life. No romantic partners on record until recently—a doctor named Marcus Reed has been pursuing her. They had a date this past weekend.” Ronan growled audibly. The sound echoed my own rising fury. “And the boy?” I asked, voice dangerously calm.

On the wall, red thread spread like the roots of a tree growing in every direction. Photographs. Documents. Notes in Dante’s own hand, the writing growing smaller as the secrets grew darker. On one side: everything he had gathered about Isabella Moretti. A case forcibly closed. Reports that had vanished without explanation. The name Marcus Reed circled in red with a large question mark. On the other side: a few photographs of Elena Lafayette. The way the woman held herself. The way she tilted her head when listening. The way her gray eyes occasionally lost focus, drifting somewhere impossibly far away. Between the two sides, a single red thread connected both names.

The bell for evening study hall had just rung when Maya Reed grabbed my wrist, her voice dropped to an excited whisper as she dragged me toward the wooded grove behind the gym. "The prom queen is making her move," she hissed, her eyes dancing. "Elena Voss, you have to see this. Rhea is about to confess to Luke Cole right now!" My heart hit the floor. It felt like a lead weight sinking through my chest. "I'm not going..." I tried to pull back, my chest tightening until it was hard to breathe.

"You know, I’ve been thinking about your little stunt on the docks. It was very dramatic. But I have to ask... why didn't you follow your friend? You went through all that trouble to pick the locks, just to stay behind and play the martyr?" Elena didn't look at him. She pretended he was nothing more than a ghost, keeping her face turned toward the window, her jaw set into a hard, rigid line. Reid chuckled darkly, setting the tray down on the small table next to her cot. "What's the matter? Lose your voice along with your freedom? Aren't you going to ask me if we caught her yet?" When she still didn't respond, his smile faded into a look of cold irritation. “Are you going to eat this, or are

“I know, babe. I get it. Don’t worry, okay?” She nodded against his chest, but her thoughts were somewhere else — at the club, with the woman whose voice still echoed in her mind. Later that night, when Raphael was asleep, Elena sat on the edge of the bed scrolling through her phone. She typed Scarlett’s name into the search bar. Scarlett Voss — The Queen of Club Vixen. Articles filled the screen: rumors, whispers, and headlines about her empire — her power, her wealth, her danger. There were stories about the people who crossed her and disappeared, stories about her charm that could destroy anyone foolish enough to fall for her.

The city woke while they rested in the silence of survival, skin against skin, breath against breath. And for the first time in a long time, the silence wasn’t haunted. Later that day, Elena stood on the rooftop of Killian’s building, dressed in black jeans and a sweater, her hair tied back, wind brushing her cheeks. Below her, New York buzzed on—indifferent to the wars waged in its shadows. Reid stepped out from the stairwell behind her. “I figured you’d be up here,” he said. She smiled faintly. “Old habits.” He stepped beside her, arms crossed. “It’s strange, isn’t it? When the thing you’ve been fighting for finally ends.”

"I'm Rebecca from Juilliard. We've been following Elena's career with great interest. When she's ready to think about college, we'd love to discuss our program." Elena smiled—genuine, but guarded. "Thank you. I'll definitely consider it." After the woman left, Elena turned to me. "Did you see her credentials?" "Elena, she's from Juilliard. One of the most prestigious—" "I know. But I looked her up on my phone while she was talking. She's legitimate. Worked there for eight years. No connections to Darren or his foundation. No red flags." This was who Elena had become. Brilliant. Talented. Suspicious of everyone.