Novels by Jhumie_writes

The days that followed were colder than any winter Emilia had ever known.Not because of the weather.Because of Lucien.He didn’t yell.He didn’t touch her.He didn’t even acknowledge her.She truly felt like an object, bought, caged, and discarded.Rosa, once tolerable, had turned needlessly cruel. Snapping at her, shoving chores into her hands, slamming doors in her face. Emilia couldn’t help but wonder if Lucien had ordered it, if making her miserable was part of the punishment.She tried to hold on to the quiet strength she came here with, but it was slipping, slipping through her fingers like sand. She’d wake up and stare at the ceiling, numb, wondering what day it was. What version of herself had survived the night.Lucien hadn’t said a single word since he slammed the office door in her face.He hadn’t summoned her either.She was no longer allowed to join him at the dinner table. The few times she caught glimpses of him, passing through hallways, giving commands in low, lethal

The silence in the mansion was heavier than any scream.For days, Lucien hadn’t looked at her, not really. He spoke only when necessary, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. The man who once watched her in the greenhouse with a storm in his eyes now moved past her like she was invisible.And maybe she was.A possession tucked in the corner of his grand estate. A thing to be seen, not heard. Not felt.Emilia walked the halls alone, her bare feet echoing softly across the marble. The opulence that once made her gape now felt like a prison. The chandeliers, the oil paintings, the velvet drapes, it was all a cruel joke. She had everything but freedom.And the man who owned it all wouldn’t even look at her.The staff, once cordial, now avoided her eyes. She could feel it, Lucien had ordered it. Whatever freedom she’d imagined she had was an illusion. A thread he’d cut the moment she stepped too close. She thought it was better, that she could endured it when she first arrived. She must h

Chapter Seven: Know Your PlaceThe rain hit the windows like a war drum.Emilia sat by the hearth, curled up in one of the massive leather chairs, her eyes fixed on the flickering fire. She hadn’t spoken much since their conversation in the study. Her body moved like muscle memory, eat, bathe, walk, but her mind was stuck in a loop, echoing the same sentence again and again.He traded you to buy himself time.She didn’t know if the flames in the fireplace or the one burning inside her chest hurt more.Lucien had been gone all day, but when he entered the room, soaked from the storm, his eyes flicked to her immediately. He froze there for a moment, dripping black coat, sharp jaw clenched, and then, without a word, began to unbutton his cuffs.Emilia stood slowly. Her voice, soft but steady, broke the silence.“I want to talk.”Lucien didn’t look up. “That sounds dangerous.”“I’m not afraid of you.”“You should be.”She stepped closer. “Why? Because you’re a killer?”He met her eyes the

The letter arrived the next morning. No name. No seal. Just a thin, cream-colored envelope slipped under Emilia’s door like a whisper.She stared at it for a long moment before picking it up.Inside was a single sentence, written in ink that looked too dark to be red.“Ask him what really happened to your father.”Her fingers trembled.She read it again. And again.Then she burned it in the fireplace.She didn’t tell Lucien. Not immediately. Not while her pulse thundered and her mind screamed questions she wasn’t ready to ask. Instead, she went about her day like nothing had changed, helping Rosa in the kitchen, reading in the garden, walking the long halls like she belonged in them.But the words haunted her.What really happened.That night, Lucien didn’t come to dinner. Again.He’d been more distant since the night in the greenhouse. She could feel it, how he vanished before she could catch his gaze, how his voice clipped short when she got too close.As if he was trying to undo so

The rain came without warning.It was past midnight again when Emilia awoke, the soft patter of droplets against her window lulling her into wakefulness. She stared at the ceiling, listening, breathing in the petrichor that seeped through the cracks of the old estate. Everything felt heavier in the dark, especially after what she’d heard.Daughter of a traitor.He should’ve buried her.She’s leverage.She pressed her fingers to her chest, right over the ache that hadn’t gone away since the conversation in the study. Her father hadn’t been a name to her, just a ghost that lingered in the spaces people avoided mentioning. And now, he was something else entirely. A thief. A traitor.The floor creaked as she moved. She didn’t mean to find him again. But her feet led her to the hallway beyond the study, where the windows rattled softly in the wind. She didn’t knock this time. She just opened the door.Lucien was there. As if he knew she’d come.He stood by the window, the rain casting stre

The sound of shattering glass came just after midnight.Emilia shot upright in her bed, heart thudding.Another crash. This one is closer.She grabbed her robe and crept out of her room, bare feet soft against the marble floor. The house was dark, eerily so. Only the faint glow from the study door spilled into the hall.It was open.Inside, Lucien stood with his back to her. One hand gripped the edge of the desk. The other was bloodied, dripping slowly onto the floor. A broken glass lay in shards beside him.She forgot herself.“Sir…”He turned sharply. “I told you to stay in your room.”“You’re bleeding.”“It’s nothing.”“It’s not nothing.”She stepped in before he could argue, grabbing a cloth from the cabinet in the corner. “Sit.”He didn’t move.She raised her eyes to him. “Please.”For a moment, he stared at her like he might refuse. But then, without a word, he sank into the leather chair.Emilia knelt in front of him, gently taking his hand.The cut ran across his palm, deep en