Novels by Emel Emerald

Golden sun streams came through the window into the Johnson mansion to bathe the great dining room with its warmth. Three days since the accident had happened, and it is within the atmosphere brought along by such a situation in life. All was well but the surface of each heart seated on hot coals -and burned so much more under Jasmine's skin than any person could imagine.She sat at her vanity, brushing her hair in slow, deliberating strokes while her mind replayed events of the past week: screeching tires, the near miss with the car, and now Jade getting into an accident. The doubt in her mind as to Jayla's involvement in it all was first just a murmur, one she dismissed for paranoia. But now? Now it was a scream she could no longer ignore.The hand closed on the hairbrush in a grip that was almost crushing as the signs turned stark: Jayla had tried to kill her with the "accident" on the street and, failing that, had gone after Jade, tampering with her brakes. In Jasmine's blood, the

Jayla sat cross-legged on the plush velvet couch in the living room of the Johnson mansion, a smirk twisting her lips. The dim light from the antique chandelier above outlined features that were almost sinister. She swirled the wine in her hand absently, as if it was the glass that was the perfect metaphor of the chaos she had unraveled.She leaned back and blew a harsh breath, the thought running like sugar on fire in her head. It was almost too good. Jade lay in the hospital after that near-fatal car accident. She hadn't died-unfortunately-but was shaken enough to keep her off-balance."Not dead yet," Jayla muttered to herself, a hard smile tugging on her lips-" but shaken. That's good enough for now."She was pleased with that image of her sister being helpless, lying in that hospital bed-so meek and weak. The whole neighborhood had thought of Jade for all those years as the "peacemaker"-way too sweet and far too good. But Jayla knew better. Jade does have ambition, and with each p

Sarah's heels clicked loudly against the floor of her dark apartment as Sarah tread back and forth, holding tightly onto her phone, with the cryptic messages seared into her brain. "Jayla isn't the only one with secrets." Words cut into her like a knife through confidence so laboriously built. And she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her every move, someone dangerous.The possibilities swirled in her mind. Who was behind these messages? Axel? Not likely. He did not need to spook her like this, not when he also benefited from their arrangement. But the idea that someone else, someone outside her control, pulled the strings left her cold.Her glass of wine remained untouched on the counter; she didn't dare pour another, not now, not when her head needed to stay sharp. Whoever this unknown force was, they were playing a dangerous game, and Sarah would be damned if she let them win.Her phone buzzed again within the grasp of her palm.Unknown Number: "Tick tock, Sarah.

Jayla's hand had been shaking the whole time as she finally hit the lock on the screen of her phone and buried it deep in her pocket as if it would make the message go away. She stepped out into the chill late evening breeze that bit into her skin as she entered the parking lot of the hospital while passing headlights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color as her mind whirled with two questions: Who? How?She had planned it down to the last letter. The timing and the setup were all supposed to be perfect. Instead, that message, dripping with sarcasm, whispered against the back of her neck, as if someone had begun to unwrap the layers of her plans and were giggling at what lay beneath.But who could it be? Sarah? No. Jayla hadn't caught any hints that Sarah was suspicious of her, and she had always seemed more focused on Jasmine anyway. Axel? The thought sent a ripple of doubt through her. He was cunning enough to play a double game, but why?Jayla clenched her teeth, forcing herself to

Jayla paced her room; her thoughts were turbulent as the storm raged within her heart. She had fisted her hands by her sides, her jaw set tight in anger as memories of that party replayed themselves in her mind like a broken record. The smugness radiating from Jasmine grated on her like fingernails on a chalkboard, as did Jade's incessant trying to play mediator. It was infuriating how Jade always came off as the calm, neutral sister, yet somehow she had a knack for keeping them all under her thumb, pretending she wasn't part of the chaos she secretly fueled.Jayla sat on the edge of her bed-no, perched, like a predator waiting for exactly the right moment to strike. Her gaze flickered toward her laptop, the messages glowing on the screen, anonymous. "Do it right, and no one will suspect you." In her mind, those sounded like a whispered encouragement for her plan. The tension in the house had built up, like a pressure cooker, over weeks, and Jayla knew just how she could use that.Jad

Anger brewed inside her like a silent storm as Jayla stared at the screen of her laptop, her fingers frozen above the keyboard. The voice message replayed in her head like a tape, each word lighting another spark to the ones that had already been lit. Jasmine and Jade had teamed up, didn't she. Her sisters. She bit into her teeth as humiliation replayed in her head, giggles, murmurs, and judgmental stares. They had planned her downfall, and now they were going to pay. But not with the petty games they had gotten so used to. This time, Jayla would play for keeps. Her eyes had fallen on the anonymous message displayed on her phone: "Time to even the odds." Shivers ran down her spine, as that just fed determination she simply could not avoid. Whoever this was, he certainly seemed to understand the amount of anger and needed some payback; it sounded almost like a voice into her most hidden soul part. A plan was beginning to formulate in Jayla's mind-the crystallization of her thought

Leya sat alone in her room, the soft light from the lamp casting enough glow to chase away the shadows that seemed to cling to the walls. The air was thick and suffocating as if the mansion itself were alive, pressing down on her from all sides. She sat down leaning against the headboard, her fingers straying aimlessly across the embroidered patterns of the bedspread while her mind fell back to recollections of the time past.The nights had become her only solace, those scant times when she could be left to her thoughts alone, away from the freezing stare of Harrison, the chain of belittling remarks from Vivian, and the constant prying eyes of Eleanor. It was in this quiet that she remembered what it had been like to be herself, before marriage, before the death of her father, before the walls of this mansion closed in on her as though in a prison.And as it was the case, her thoughts took her back to her father's study. She could almost envision him now, sitting behind the desk, his

Mr. Samuel Blackwood sat back in his dark leather chair. The poor light from the desk lamp cast sharp shadows across his face. His fingers drummed around the edge of the thick file labeled Anderson while his eyes were hard and calculating. He swirled the glass of brandy in his other hand, eyes narrowing while weighing his next move.That wasn't some list of debts and bankruptcies. This dug a little deeper than that. For years, Samuel had been keeping tabs on the Anderson family, way back before Leya's father died in that tragic accident, before their business went belly-up. He knew fully well it would only be a matter of time before the bottom fell out from under them, and he was positioned just right to make the most of it.Yet even more Leya did not know: secrets safely laid to rest, secrets her father had taken to his grave.Samuel's eyes strayed to the picture inside the folder, the same framed smiling family photo that had once hung in the Anderson house. He touched his finger to

The reception had taken place in the great ballroom of the Blackwood estate, a lavish affair of crystal chandeliers casting shimmering light across polished marble floors. Leya swam through the crowd, accepting well-wishes from the guests she didn't know, nodding politely at their empty compliments. But all the while, she had the feeling that she was a ghost wafting through a life that wasn't hers.She caught a glimpse of Harrison across the room, similarly flanked by his family and his business associates, wearing the same detached expression, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. A prisoner in this arrangement too, though his prison was one of power and expectation, not desperation.As the evening wore on, she found herself standing beside the big bay window, looking down into the sprawling gardens below. Laughter and clinking glasses faded through the background as she allowed herself for a moment to breathe in the weight of everything that happened.She felt her mother coming u

Leya stood by the edge of her father's study, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of the desk that had once been his. The room once filled with his presence, his laughter, his unwavering confidence, once alive, now felt like a tomb: cold, hollow, and lifeless. Almost, as if she heard the echo of his voice from the walls, reassuring her that steadiness that she always relied on.But now nothing was stable anymore.Nothing was all right.The memory of his death came crashing upon her like a tide, of which the force threatened to drown her. She remembered the call, how her mom's face had slumped, folding in on itself, as the weight of the news had shattered everything.Leya watched immobile, her world breaking into pieces. The moment before, her father was alive, vibrant, with plans and dreams. The next… he was gone.A car accident: sudden, brutal.Her hands were quivering while she reached for the framed picture lying on the desk, that of her father proudly in front of their fami