Evermore Album Novels & Stories

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

Vice and Victor have a plan. Five years in the spotlight to make their fortune, then move into the background, with their own record label. Fast and smart is their motto. Romance will have to wait, especially since their idea of an ideal romance, involves both of them and one woman. When their manager, Aaron, asks them to collaborate with a chart-topping popstar who wants to gravitate into rock, they are dubious. A frequent flyer in the gossip columns over the last twelve months with a history of drug and alcohol problems, they fear she will be difficult and volatile to work with. After being roofied by her music producer, Mirage has learnt the hard way that it is not an equal world. Without proof, she cannot pursue legal recourse, and she is locked into completing another album with her rapist. Meanwhile, Mr Rich has been feeding the industry lies about her having dependency on alcohol and drugs, and the gossip mags have seized upon the stories, slowly tearing her professional reputation into pieces. But Mirage is not a fragile damsel in distress, she is a pop-rock chick, and she is fighting back.

When I was 18 years old, Luigi Conti, the craziest heir of the Conti family, pulled out a gun at an auction and executed the Don of the Serra family. That man happened to be my foster father, also the one who had me auctioned away as though I were a slave. When he was being dragged toward the armored car by the military police, he kept laughing like mad despite having blood streaking down his face. "Why must I atone for my sins? Since God refuses to save you, let me be your savior! From now on, no one in Sandalay has the guts to clip your wings anymore, my darling Isabella!" Seven years later, Luigi gets released from prison. He looks at me as I wash dishes for a living in the slums before snuffing out the cigar trapped between his fingers. That night, Luigi returns to his family and steals the position of the Don. After we get married, I'm the only person who has the highest access over the vaults under the Conti family. Luigi even forcibly expands the ring that signifies ultimate authority—which has been passed down from generation to generation for a century—and slides it onto my ring finger. He buys half of Sandalay's estates just so he can fill the vineyards with the white grapes I've mentioned in passing. He tells me that his turf is called Isabella. But everything changes when I discover a photo album stashed in a hidden compartment in Luigi's study. All 2,000 photos feature a young woman in a white dress who is reading in the library. That is the female assassin he's planning on training. The woman looks very pure and innocent. She's most suited to conquer certain bigwigs' hearts. But now, it seems that Luigi's the one being conquered by her. When Luigi finds out about my discovery, he throws the photo album into the fireplace and watches it burn in the fire with a stony expression. "I'm just repackaging her so that she can aid me in money laundering. Just pretend you never saw the photo album." I push the signed divorce agreement over to Luigi. "I said, sign the agreement." Frustrated, Luigi pins the divorce agreement on the table with a knife, his expression insanely dark. "Isabella Serra, have you forgotten about the Conti family's rules? There's no such thing as divorce. We can only be widowed."

Julian Hayes spent eight years climbing from first officer to captain of the most coveted international routes. I stood beside him for every mile of that climb. For him, I walked away from the Valenti family, the most feared Mafia name on the East Coast. I buried Elena Valenti, and became Lina Vale, the girl who smiled in the cabin while he ruled the cockpit. The day I left, my father stood on the marble steps of our estate and said, "Elena, if you walk out that gate for him, don’t come crawling back." Julian never knew. To him, I was a woman with no real family, no real power, and no life worth asking about. I was the one who memorized his flight schedule, packed his stomach pills, and kept dinner warm until midnight. Once, I asked him, "Can you take me into the sky the way you see it? Just once." He didn’t even put down his fork. "The cockpit is a workplace, Lina. Not a theme park." I said okay and never asked again. Then one sleepless dawn, I found the encrypted album on his phone. More than forty cockpit photos: cloud seas, blood-red sunsets, double rainbows after storms, the Milky Way over the Atlantic. Every one had been sent to the same contact. A teddy bear emoji. The newest photo showed half a sun hanging off the wingtip. His caption read, [Next time you’re off, I’ll put you in the observer seat. Sit on the right. That’s where the whole sky opens up.] She replied, [I’ll hold you to that.] I put the phone back. I didn’t change the password, didn’t delete the album, didn’t wake him up to beg for an explanation. At dawn, I brewed his coffee like always, sat alone at the kitchen island, and drank mine in silence. Then I sent my resignation letter and called a number I hadn’t touched in eight years. I watched the first flight of the morning rise beyond the Manhattan skyline and said, "Papa, I’m coming home." When the line connected, my father’s voice was colder than a gun barrel. "Have you thought it through?"

After dating in secret for seven years, Mitchell Zahn decides to propose to me on the day his birthday album is officially released. But during the birthday party, he publicly invites Isabella Claxton, a composer and my sister, to work with him. I follow Mitchell to ask him for an explanation. That's when I hear him and his friends chatting and joking inside the lounge. "You're so loyal to your first love, Mitchie. You couldn't wait to ask her to work with you upon her return. What are you going to do about Gabriella, though? Will she accept how your relationship ends when she's written so many songs for you?" After a moment, another person laughs and says, "To Mitchie, Gabriella has always been a replacement for Isabella. Now that Isabella is back, her replacement has to go. Don't you agree, Mitchie?" I wait for a long time before hearing a soft sound of agreement.

My husband was not fully conscious from anaesthesia after waking up from surgery, and he started spouting nonsense. I laughed while recording his comical reaction, but while helping him into a chair, I paused when I heard him calling for his son. "Be a good boy, all right? Daddy is busy." My smile froze, and I was stunned. We had been DINKs for 10 years. When did he get a son? My hands trembled as I turned on his phone. It was the first time I was looking through his phone in our years of marriage. When I browsed the phone’s data, I found a private album filled with intimate photos of him with another woman and a child. It was a boy who looked very similar to him, and the timestamp on the photos indicated that the boy was three. All three of them were smiling happily, but their smiles hurt me. He had once told me with conviction that he hated kids and did not want to be tied down by family, which was why he convinced me to be a DINK. However, I now knew that he was not really sincere about being a DINK; he just did not want to have kids with me.

Among the world's female models, Julian Vance once again ranked first as the photographer they most wanted to spend a night with. And yet he had never taken a single photograph of me. When reporters asked about it, he could never hide the fondness in his eyes. "My wife is for my eyes only. No one else gets that privilege." On my birthday, I happily changed into a lace nightdress and, for the first time, asked him to record me with his camera. Several minutes passed. The shutter never sounded. Behind the camera, Julian's expression had gone stiff. "Forget it," he said. My joy collapsed into confusion. "What's wrong?" "It's just..." He laughed dryly. "Photography is work. I don't want to mix you up with work." Then he put the camera back, turned around, and went into the bathroom. The door to the darkroom where he developed his photos was half open, red light spilling through the crack. I walked inside and saw an album on the worktable titled Vivian Blair's Private Diary. I opened it. Inside were photos in every degree of intimacy and every kind of pose.

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.

Lindy, a simple teenage girl who lives in Canada, never wanted to stand out because she is afraid of getting noticed and does not want or hope to get anyone's attention. Milo , a famous member of Spitfire Strip, extremely popular, filthy rich and a woman's magnet while adored by millions of his screaming fans. He has everything could ask -- sold out concerts, album, world tour concerts year after year, money, and women. But despite everything he has, he knows there's still something missing in his life because he wants a woman that can love him not for his fame or because he is Milo Beckett from Spitfire Strip. One wicked night Canada, Lindy managed to lose her phone and once she found it, she didn't realize that it was not hers until she receives an unknown number calling her. Only to realize that an English cheeky boy had accidentally swapped phones with her who is now on his way back home to England. She kept communicating for a week with the man named as Mill who is five years older than her. When she retrieved her phone, she found out that she had swapped phones and had eventually fallen in love with a man who she didn't expect at all. Will it be easy for Lindy to date a famous celebrity? All questions she has in her head but she did not know she just got lucky.

My cousin, Leroy Huff, is bringing his new girlfriend, Jodie Collins, home for the first time ever. At the dining table, everyone chats with each other animatedly. Suddenly, Jodie stares at my face intensely before pretending to be shocked. "Have I seen you before, Isabelle? You're a member of a high-class escort group, aren't you? I've seen your price list on the group chat's photo album before. I think… you were charging only 200 dollars per night, right?" After she's done speaking, she pretends to cover her mouth while looking all pure and innocent. All noise and chatter fade away instantly. My relatives turn to look at me in disdain. "She looks so prim and proper at first glance, but to think that she's actually involved in such business…" "You bring nothing but shame to the Huff family! Don't ever tell anyone else that you know us!" Enraged, my dad smashes his wine glass. Meanwhile, my mom just wipes her tears away quietly. But I dab my mouth with a napkin slowly before shooting Jodie a half-smile. "It's normal for you to think of me as familiar-looking. After all, I'm a member of the vice squad. Last month, I just arrested you after a stakeout."