Vanishing Blinds Novels & Stories

Without the vanity lights, she was remarkably average. ​"Julian, darling," Kendra called out, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Are you ready? The market will be packed by now, and the photographers usually set up near the harbor around three." ​Julian Van Cullingham stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the collar of his linen shirt. He was undeniably handsome, with sharp features and a polished, aristocratic air that screamed old money. ​"Of course, my love," Julian said, offering her a charming smile. He walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "We must give the tabloids something beautiful to write about today."

The elevator doors slid closed, breaking the moment. "Mommy, we missed it," Zia said, tugging her hand. "It’s okay, sweetheart. That elevator’s not for us," Jade whispered, heart pounding. No one dared to share a lift with the CEO. But why was he using the common elevator today? He had his own private one. Her knees felt weak. It was the first time in five years she had seen him this close. Her chest tightened. In the past, Zane had been blind—she had memorized his features but never experienced him seeing her.

Like this is exactly what she wanted. Adrian doesn’t look at her. Not anymore. His focus is on the room. The exits. The glass walls. Every reflection. “Close the blinds,” he orders. No hesitation. A security officer rushes to comply. The floor-to-ceiling glass begins to darken, the city outside fading into shadow. But for a brief second—before the tint fully settles—I see it again. Movement. A flicker in the reflection. Behind us. Gone before I can focus. My breath catches. Adrian feels it. His grip tightens slightly.

I blink, and he’s there. Closer. Watching. His outline was sharp against the strobe lights. His hand — steady, sure — reaches for me. “That’s not him,” I whisper. Or think I do. But his fingers close around my arm. Firm. Cold. My body gives out. The floor rushes up to meet me. The lights smear into streaks of colour. The last thing I see is his shadow leaning over me — calm, unhurried — before the world folds in on itself. Then—nothing.

He didn’t run with the frantic energy of a subordinate; he walked with the measured stride of a man who had seen a miracle and was still trying to find the words to categorize it. ​“The sky turned white, General,” Kross said, his voice a low rasp. “Every monitor in the Hub went dead for ten seconds. When the power came back, the violet stars were gone. They just… dropped. Like stones into a lake.” ​“They’re gone, Kross,” I said, though the words felt hollow in my chest. “For now.”

With a heart drumming with joy, I reached out to the file and opened it. I retrieved a white paper inside and stared at it , my gaze scanning on it, grasping the content. The smile on my face faltered, replaced with a deep frown. “Divorce agreement?" I looked up, my brow knotted as confusion flashed in my eyes. Maverick nodded gently and said. “Just like you see. Sign it. I'm quitting the marriage." He simply said, his words hanging in the air. It was as if everything around me froze.

“Disable the camera in the hallway. I need to get in.” Sebastian's voice sounded calm and velvety as he said, "Of course, princess." The security camera had a tiny red light that blink once and then went out. I moved quickly. The master key fit the lock perfectly. The door clicked open, and I slipped inside. “Are you in, darlin’?” Sebastian asked. “I am.” I closed the door behind me and pressed the lock. “Disable the blinds. Blur everything.” “Done.” Within seconds, the glass windows frosted over, concealing me in a veil of muted white. No cameras. No eyes. Just me and the ghosts of this room.

in her suicide note? Heavy footsteps approached outside the door. Then the door was hit even more violently, making the wardrobe start to scrape across the floor with a piercing noise. We watched helplessly as the wardrobe's defense gradually failed until—CRACK! A corner of the wardrobe splintered under a powerful blow, exposing a large gap right before our eyes. The intruder outside let out a hoarse laugh, "So this is where you're hiding." I stood in front of my mother, backing toward the bed step by step.

Banging on my door, she shouted loud enough for the whole building to hear. "So what if you got Skyler to kick me out, Julia? Your paintings are all gone, and you're practically blind! "By the way, he was the one who showed me all your work first. And yeah, I did copy you, but so what? It's not like I would've been able to if Skyler hadn't allowed me to!" I sat quietly inside my home and didn't bother to answer the door despite Leah's words. Unbeknownst to her, there was a security camera installed at my door, which also recorded audio. As such, everything she had said was recorded loud and clear. Hence, she had essentially just confessed to plagiarizing my work.

"And you, dear, seem to have something to prove." "I'd like to disappear," I admitted. "But not without being noticed. I'd like to enter the room and have the one man responsible for doing me harm struggle to breathe under the press of his remorse." Lucia nodded curtly in affirmation. "We will play with black." By the weekend, my closet was looking like something out of one of the James Bond movies. Silks, flawlessly fitted blazers, and slit dresses daring enough to attract attention but crafted to create a sense of elegance, not desperation. Lucia taught me how to stride like I owned the world—how to execute calculated turns and how to enter a room with intention.