Fitzmolean Museum Novels & Stories

Katherine De’Cheney had a life she felt was perfect. She had a job she loved working at the New York Museum as a Conservator. She was engaged to the love of her life. One day she comes home early to find him tangled in their bed sheets with his paralegal. Shattered and broken, she crumbles in hopelessness. In her grieving state she passes out. Opening her eyes she feels transported into another realm. Standing in front of her is her grandmother’s house which stands in front of a looming property that she dare not go near. The “LeFleur” mansion. A place that haunts her dreams. Something continues to call her spirit like a piece of her is locked inside waiting to reclaim her. Suddenly from behind, a Shadow of a man, shrouded in night. He reaches for her hand beckoning her to come. She jerks back and tries to run. “You cannot continue resisting me my dove” he says in silky voice with an old German accent. “Come home to me”. She feels her body relishing in his voice, his touch, and a hidden desire about him she does not know. The more she tries to pull away, the more she feels a pull towards him. Something kept nagging her. ‘What was drawing her back there?’ ‘Who was the sinister looking man she saw in the window as a child before the wolves came from nowhere to attack her. She shuddered, trying not to remember. What darkness was connected to that decaying old house? Why did she feel like something is calling her to return?

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions. On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me. The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance. Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch. But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune. “Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!” Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!” Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men. Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated. I scheduled an abortion and called him. “We’re done.” Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.” “Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back. On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home. Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

Dr. Ivy Smythe left Heath Allan the day before they graduated from university after they'd fought long and hard about her having an affair. He wouldn't accept her word over the stories he'd been told and the photographic evidence. Heath didn't believe she would leave and was stunned when she disappeared. Now, eight years later, he finds her working in the museum, where he's the new CFO, and she's got a little boy who looks like him. She's also walking with a cane and giving him the cold shoulder. His family's money and influence originally created this mess when his mother set her sights on him marrying another woman. Back then, he did what his parents wanted and married Monica. After the wedding, he discovered Ivy wasn't the gold digger, as his mother and Monica portrayed her. Monica was. Now Monica is fighting the divorce, and Ivy won't admit Geoffrey is his son. Does he have any hope of fixing this? He wants to be his son's father and make things right with Ivy. Will she take him back? He knows Monica won't slip away into the shadows peacefully. He's sure Monica will attempt to manipulate things again to push Ivy out of Heath's life. Read on to find out what Ivy will do when the Cat Fight for the Billionaire Daddy goes for a second round. Will she forgive him for the sake of their son? Does she still love him? What would she do with Monica if she could have her revenge on her?

Shantali Mae Cross, a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Ancient Arts, encounters an impossible phenomenon during her night shift—smoke from the heating vents coalesces into the form of a cobra near ancient Egyptian canopic jars, showing her visions of possible futures. She sees herself accepting a promotion, arguing with a dark-haired man in a hospital, wearing a wedding dress, and standing at a graveside in autumn. Shaken by the experience, Shantali becomes obsessed with understanding what she witnessed, diving into research about serpent smoke divination practices. Her investigation reveals that others throughout history have experienced similar visions at crucial crossroads in their lives, but those who became consumed with interpreting and controlling their prophetic glimpses inevitably destroyed the very relationships and opportunities the visions had shown them. As Shantali spirals deeper into her research, she begins shutting out her boyfriend David, a fellow security guard who loves her deeply. When David witnesses the cobra phenomenon himself, he helps ground her in reality rather than obsession. Through her studies, particularly the warnings left by Dr. Amelia Thorne—a researcher who died alone after chasing similar mysteries—Shantali realizes the cobra's true message: choose love over fear, presence over obsession. The visions weren't warnings of tragedy but glimpses of a life fully lived with all its ordinary struggles and profound connections. When David proposes, Shantali chooses their real relationship over her pursuit of supernatural answers. She completes her research by writing a fictional novel about her experience, transforming obsession into art while helping future cobra witnesses understand that some mysteries are meant to guide rather than be solved. The story explores themes of choice versus destiny, the danger of sacrificing present love for future certainty, and the wisdom of embracing life's uncertainties alongside those who love us.

The night my father collapsed, I learned some men negotiate with money… but Noah Thorne negotiates with lives. I never planned to marry a billionaire CEO, especially not the man my father owed $50,000 to. But when the hospital demanded an $80,000 deposit before surgery, life made the choice for me. While my mother sobbed in a cold hallway, Noah’s bodyguard arrived with an offer, an arranged marriage, a contract marriage that would clear the debt and cover every medical bill. When I confronted Noah, he presented the terms without cruelty: one year, no intimacy, public appearances only, and freedom after. He believed he was offering mercy but I felt like beautifully packaged captivity. Desperation crushed pride, and I signed. Our “marriage” was a seven-minute formality, no vows, no meaning. Moving into his penthouse was like stepping into a museum built to contain silence. Publicly, we were the perfect romance. Privately, we were strangers navigating a fragile arrangement thick with unspoken tension. Complications followed us: Noah’s elegant, smug ex who treated me like a placeholder, and my own ex-boyfriend, whose sudden reappearance triggered jealousy in Noah he couldn’t hide. Arguments, silences, and late-night moments softened something between us. Slowly, painfully, the man behind the empire emerged, the lonely boy shaped by loss, abandonment, and guarded walls. We began to care. We tried to deny it. Feelings weren’t in the contract but feelings don’t read contracts. Near the end of the year, Noah pulled away. I thought he wanted freedom. He signed the release papers with steady hands and a breaking heart. I was almost gone when he whispered the truth: “Please don’t go.” We tore up the contract. A year later, we married again, this time for love, not survival. This time, I chose him