Novel-novel oleh Dorinda Ogeyemhe

IslaI told Rolin I was heading to see Jane.He didn’t ask questions—just nodded with that unreadable look of his. We told Grandma we were stepping out, and as we walked toward the driveway, he glanced at my car and smirked.“Your car taste hasn’t changed,” he said, like it was some inside joke.“It’s called loyalty,” I replied, sliding into the seat like I owned the world.When I pulled up outside Alex’s house, I rolled my eyes. The place looked smaller—uglier—now that I wasn’t trapped in it. I stared at the driveway and made a silent promise: I’m taking it all back.I bought this house. And like a fool, I signed it over to him. That ends today.I walked in with the confidence of a woman who knew her worth—and the weight of the potted plant I’d grabbed randomly from a roadside shop, just for cover.Jane opened the door like she’d been waiting to smile her way out of a scandal. I didn’t even glance at her. Inside, Alex sat on the couch like a smug prince, champagne glasses already wai

IslaI turned off my phone without a second thought and let the weight of the day drag me into sleep.When I opened my eyes again, it was to soft kisses fluttering against my cheeks. I blinked up, half-dazed, and found Rolin’s smirking face hovering above me like the trouble he was.“Good evening, butterfly,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Or should I say… wife? How was your day?”I squinted at him. “What time is it?”“7:32 p.m.”I hummed and sank deeper into the sheets. “Have you eaten anything?”He stretched beside me and shrugged. “Not really. Grandma’s cooking.”That made me shoot up. “And you didn’t wake me?” I smacked his chest lightly. “You just let me sleep while food was being made?”He grinned. “Didn’t want to disturb my wife.”Then he leaned in close, lowering his voice. “you were just being sweet in front of Abigail today. Was someone feeling a little jealous?”I rolled my eyes so hard it could’ve been audible and dodged him, making him lose balance

IslaI pulled on a pair of black pants—sleek, tailored—then the silver silk top. Yeah, silver again. At this point, it was basically my signature. Was it even a real color? Didn’t matter. It caught the light, made my skin glow, and gave me that don’t mess with me edge. Good enough. A few silver hoops, a thin bracelet, and my Louboutins clicked into place like armor locking into position. The mirror didn’t sugarcoat it—I looked expensive.Gran-Gran whistled when I stepped out, like I was some K-drama lead strutting off a runway. “Gran-Gran,” I groaned, my face heating up. “Seriously?” She cackled—the kind of laugh that meant trouble—and hooked her arm through mine. I could already feel the chaos brewing. Her cane tapped against the pavement as we walked, sharp and unyielding, just like her. The car was waiting. I helped her in, and with a quiet nod from the driver, we were off. The McCatty mall was all polished floors and overpriced serenity, the kind of place where the air

Isla Carlotta's gentle tap snapped me out of it. "Drew your bath, mi hija," she murmured, that warm smile of hers smoothing my edges. I managed a weak smile back. "Thanks." My body moved toward the bathroom on autopilot while my brain stayed stuck on one name: Abigail. The same Abigail from his past. The one his father kept shoving into his life. The hot bath did nothing to wash away the acid churning in my gut. I scrubbed my skin raw anyway. When I stepped out, Rolin was waiting like a damn statue in our room. "Same Abigail?" I asked, toweling my hair. "The one you—" "Yeah." His jaw flexed. "I'll handle it." "Mm." I yanked a sweater over my head. "Where's Gran?" "Carlotta's entertaining her in the lounge." The intercom buzzed before I could respond. Rolin answered, then turned with that infuriating calm. "They're here." My stomach dropped. And there she was. Abigail strutted in like she owned the place, wrapped in a red dress that left zero to the imaginati

Isla Sleep didn't come easy that night. Rolin took his time in the bathroom, giving me space to curl up on my side and fake sleep. The lights dimmed. Water ran. Then the soft click of the door. I felt more than heard his quiet chuckle—that knowing sound that said he wasn't fooled. The mattress dipped as he slid in behind me. I stiffened. Didn't matter. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me back against his bare chest like I was something precious. Something worth holding gently. I stopped breathing. His nose brushed my damp hair. "You smell like milk and almonds," he murmured. My stomach did something complicated. What even was this feeling? Before I could figure it out, exhaustion dragged me under. — The nightmare hit like a sucker punch. Concrete biting my knees. Shadows with glowing eyes. Hands everywhere, tearing at my clothes. My screams bouncing back at me, useless. Then the hospital. White walls. That nurse's pitying face. "The baby didn't make it." The words

Isla The party died a quick death after that. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Champagne glasses sat abandoned. Rolin's fingers slid between mine, guiding me through the gawking crowd like I might shatter if he moved too fast. Lucia's heels clicked behind us, eager as a puppy who'd just chewed up the curtains. "Chairman McCatty," he purred, "how'd I do?" Rolin gave a stiff nod, already turning away, when Lucia caught my wrist. "You," he said, eyes lighting up. "That bag was made for someone like you." I offered a tight smile. Lucia's gaze lingered too long, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "My wife," Rolin bit out, sharp as a gunshot. Lucia's mouth fell open. Rolin didn't stick around for the fallout. He bundled me into the car with that old-world courtesy of his, slamming the door like a period at the end of a sentence. The ride home was the kind of quiet that makes your ears ring. Even the driver kept checking the rearview mirror like he was debatin