The Fool Element Novels & Stories

As I walked through the dimly lit hallway, my heart was still racing, my breath uneven from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me in the last few hours. Then, my eyes flickered up, catching sight of the metal plaque bolted to the doorpost "Wing 1." A cold chill ran down my spine. My body went rigid as Otto’s letter flashed vividly in my mind, the words echoing as if he said it directly to my face "Room 316. Wing 2." No. No. No. No. Oh, God. A sickening wave of realization crashed over me, leaving me breathless. The man in the grey suit… He had smiled, nodded, and gestured me down this hallway. So confident. So sure. And like a fool, I had followed. I had made a mistake. A colossal, irreversible mistake. My stomach twisted violently as the truth settled in, thick and suffocating. I had entered the wrong wing. The wrong room. The wrong bed. I had given myself to a stranger. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world tilted, my vision blurred. What had I done? How far is too far? In this encapsulating masterpiesce, Sucre is down for whatever gets him closer to taking revenge on Otto - his twin brother's killer. But, would he really do all that is necessary? Would he chose his ambition over that of Luca the cartel’s underboss and his lover? Can he stop the knife and gun violence on campus and win the five million dollars prize money? Dive into a story of love, betrayal, romance and suspense. The Cartel’s Forbidden Love is a gripping and intriguing read that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

I'm Viper. I had a drunken one night stand. Or so I thought until I got served divorce papers after a meeting gone bad and my wife was the potential client. That meeting almost destroyed my club because I was a fool. I have two choices sign the papers and let her walk away forever but I also fix my mistakes. Or work my ass off to fix my mistakes and make my wife fall in love with me. I chose option two. But there is someone else that wants my wife for himself. I will fix my club and get my wife and this other guy better stay out of my way. I'm not going to stop until I get what is mine. I'm Sabine, everyone calls me Pixie because of my size. I'm barely over five feet tall. I made the mistake and married a man I barely knew during a weekend of fun. He left me the next morning and I didn't see him for months until I went to a meeting about hiring a body guard with the Reckless Renegades. Imagine my surprise when I see my long lost husband with a skank on his arm. I fired him and had him served papers the next week. I cut off anything to do with the club. Business, friends, you name it. I wasn't going to be made a fool of. He left me so he should have just signed and let me move on with my life. I'm a champion ice skater but I need more. I want love and a family of my own. I thought I found it. Boy was I wrong. Now he is back and says he wants to win my heart.

I hid behind the study curtains, heart racing with a fragile, trembling joy. In my hands: an ultrasound photo—two heartbeats—and a no-limit black card. Alessandro had given it to me last night, his lips on my neck, calling me his Donna, his queen. Tonight, I was going to tell him about the twins. "The Petrov family needs to see my good faith," his voice drifted in, smooth as velvet. "Vittoria arrives Thursday. I’ll announce the engagement then." My blood froze. "What about Elena?" someone asked. "She’s been with you three years. She manages the books, dug that slug out of your side herself. Is this fair to her?" "Elena?" He leaned back in the leather chair, cigar smoke curling around his jaw. "She’s like a trained hound, Salvatore. After the Rossi family got wiped out, I pulled her from the gutter, gave her a gun and a bed. Have you ever seen a hound leave its master? I could kick her, and she would lick my boot and ask for another." My nails sank into my palms, crumpling the ultrasound. "Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave?" Marco, his Capo, asked. Alessandro paused. Then he said: "She would die for me without question. How could she ever leave?" Those words struck my chest like two 9mm rounds. I didn't wait. I ran through the cemetery, past the tombs of dead Dons, and hurled that card into the Hudson. I vanished into the night with his heirs in my womb and three years of lies in my throat. "I'm sorry, my babies," I whispered to my belly. "Mommy was a fool." But I wouldn't be a fool anymore.

“I vow to never love you, Daisy , Not in sickness, and never in health.” Those were Sebastian’s words at our wedding, and I had foolishly believed I could make him fall in love with me. The day I told him I was pregnant, his cold eyes met mine, and he muttered, “Abort it.” But the moment his ex-lover returned, he followed her blindly. I watched, tears clouding my vision, as he twirled her in the middle of a lavish party he threw for her—on my birthday all the while proclaiming his love for her to the entire world while I stood there like a fool. My parents’ faces twisted in disgust as they looked at me. “How can you be so ungrateful, Daisy? We’ve given you everything for twenty-three years! Now we’ve found our biological daughter. She is the real heir, so let her take over the company. Don’t be selfish!” And just like that, they handed her the inheritance I had worked for all my life. Three years. Three years I devoted to Sebastian. I gave him my heart, my body, even a kidney when he was on the brink of death. And still, he abandoned me like trash. I fled that night, leaving behind our signed divorce papers and a fake abortion report. But five years later, I returned. But not as the woman they discarded, but as the most successful actress in the nation, with my twin children by my side. And now… they came back begging. “Daisy… we were blind. Please forgive us,” my parents whispered. “I was a fool,” Sebastian fell to his knees. “I made a mistake. Come back to me. I still love you.” I rolled my eyes, my voice icy. “You are five years too late, ex-husband.”

As my due date approached, a massive discrepancy surfaced in the Galante family's arms accounts. The leadership made a swift decision. They sent me, Sophia Vitale, the Don's wife, the woman everyone claimed had nothing better to do, to personally inspect the armory and verify the inventory. I believed it was a routine check. I never imagined my husband's godsister, Monica Leone, would use it as cover to blow up the entire armory. The explosion was deafening. Fire ripped through the sky. Concrete collapsed around me, crushing my body as a searing pain tore through my abdomen. I did not call my husband on his highest-priority private line. Instead, I sent a distress signal to my father. In my previous life, the moment the explosion occurred, I had used that same priority channel to call my husband. The child had survived. Monica had been obliterated in the blast. My husband had claimed he did not blame me. He had said Monica was an outsider and that an heir mattered more. He had spared no expense, hiring elite obstetric specialists to monitor me day and night. He had told me to stay calm and wait for delivery. Then, on the day I went into labor, he personally locked me and the baby inside an abandoned warehouse drenched in gasoline and burned us alive. "If you hadn't deliberately delayed, she wouldn't have died. Do you really think playing the innocent victim could fool me? Dream on," he said. "You like playing with fire so much? Fine. I'll let you experience her despair yourself." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the armory, at the exact moment of the explosion.

The Mad Donna He Never Really Married For three years, I was Donna of the rising Valenti family. One day, Enzo was holding a meeting at a private cigar club. I worried about his stomach issues, so I went to bring him his usual antacids. Standing outside the private room, I heard his men laughing. “Don Enzo, are you really going to keep Clara hidden away at the Silver Lake villa forever?” “That mad Moretti heiress in the main house is still parading around as Donna of the Valenti family.” Enzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and scoffed. “If she hadn’t taken a bullet to the head for me and gone insane, and if I hadn’t desperately needed her family’s capital, I never would have married a woman with no blood ties to the life.” “But Clara is my legal wife. The family trust, the marriage certificate at City Hall, it’s all in her name.” “Stella’s just a plaything I keep at the main house. Once Clara gives birth to an heir, I’ll bring her home for good.” My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the small box of medicine, the cardboard crumpling in my hand. He had exchanged blood oaths and rings with me in the church, yet it was Clara who had signed the papers at City Hall. He played me for a fool, all to keep Clara’s reputation clean. Clutching the box, I turned and melted back into the shadows. He had no idea my sanity had returned three days ago. He would never guess I had already sent an encrypted message to my brother, who runs a business empire from our home in Solaria, far across the sea. I was done with this goddamn Valenti title.

The Falcon Ridge Series Book 3 Six months after the Battle for Black Lake Luke Jackson: Having been with the unit for six years and after the mess in Black Lake, I'm tired. I need to retire. Go home to Red Rock. I haven't been back there since I joined. But my dad tells me the crime there is getting bad and he needs my help with a biker gang called The Lycans. After staying home for six months and seeing nothing being done, I decide I'm headed to California. I don't want my pack. Before I leave, I have one last party. By the time I head home, I'm so drunk I can't see straight. When I see a guy getting beat up, I try to be a hero, but it only ends with me getting beat too. The only thing I remember is a pair of gorgeous green eyes. Alexi Torrent: I am the daughter of the notorious Draco Torrent. Alpha of the Dragons. After my father was murdered and my home destroyed by the Alliance, I vow revenge. I have a plan to enact my vengence on the woman who killed my father. I need resources so I join with The Lycans. I was just about to get what I needed from a contact when the drunk Alpha stumbled upon me. He called me out and my contact ran away. I was angry. I was going to make him pay. That was until I saw his hazel eyes. He may have been a drunk fool, but there was something different about him. So I spare his life. It turns out to be a big mistake for my plans.

I was just a nobody actor, killing time reading a trashy novel where the Omega side-character had my name. His only purpose? To be a disposable prop for the Alpha ML, a walking, talking disaster who gets his life ruined in 50 chapters flat. I hated him. I hated his pathetic weakness. Then I died. And I woke up as him. Now, I'm that cannon fodder. I'm in the body of the fool I despised, on the eve of his public humiliation at the hands of the novel's god-like Alpha, Huo Yan. The worst part? I never finished the book. I know how I'm supposed to die, but I have no idea how this story ends. My only guide is a faint voice in my head, a "Survival System" that gives me one simple, terrifying rule: Don't attract the protagonist. So I have a plan. Be invisible. Be boring. Stay away from Huo Yan. But I messed up. In one desperate moment to save my own skin, I did something unexpected. I showed a spark of talent the original "me" never had. And the Alpha, the man who should be looking at the female lead, is now looking at me. His scent, a predator's frost, hunts me in crowded rooms. His eyes, dark and possessive, follow my every move. He cornered me after a gala, his voice a low growl against my ear. "You are not the Omega from the script," he whispered, his touch branding my skin. "You are a liar. And I will peel back every layer until I find the truth." The plot is broken. The Alpha is obsessed. And my survival system is flashing red. I came here to avoid my death, but now I'm terrified I might just be the reason this story becomes a tragedy.

> “Stay still, Little Thorn… I want to taste you slowly.” His voice was velvet and ruin. His mouth, a weapon. And I—fool that I was—leaned closer. Before death wore a suit and called itself a lover, I used to believe in beauty. Before the blood. Before the runes. Before I painted the image that killed my parents—I believed my art could save me. Now I know better. I was just weeks from graduating when the painting came to me like a fever. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t plan it. My hands moved, possessed, dragging symbols I’d never seen and a face I’d never forgotten—his. Eyes red as wine. A crown pierced with thorns. And a girl in the center… me. Offering herself. I signed it with a mark I didn’t recognize. I sold it to a stranger. And days later, my parents were dead—no wounds, no reason, just... gone. The police said stress. I say fate. Now I’m being hunted by a world I didn’t know existed. Vampires with ancient courts and older grudges. Symbols that whisper in my blood. And Lucien D’Aragon—the vampire who says I summoned him with my brushstroke. That I belong to him. He says I’m his prophecy. His ruin. His Little Thorn. But I’m not just prey. Something is waking in me. Something hungry. Something I was never meant to survive. If I give in, I lose everything. If I fight, I might finally learn the truth. About my art. About my bloodline. About what really happened that night. And why he keeps whispering that I was painted for ruin... but made for him.