Novels by Bil

Marcus nodded, filing the information away. “She trusts you.”“Yeah,” Jace said easily. “We trust each other.”The words came without hesitation.If he noticed the way Marcus’s eyes lingered for half a second longer than necessary, he didn’t think much of it.They cleared security quickly. Marcus had everything arranged. Priority boarding. Lounge access. Tickets already loaded. Every step felt smooth, curated, taken care of.Jace liked that.It reminded him what it felt like not to be the one holding everything together.Inside the lounge, Marcus handed him a coffee without asking how he took it.Jace blinked. “How did you...”“Black,” Marcus said. “One sugar. You stir exactly three times and forget the lid half the time.”Jace laughed, genuinely surprised. “Okay, that’s a little creepy.”Marcus chuckled. “Or I pay attention.”Jace felt warmth bloom in his chest at that. Being noticed like this felt good. After years of being the background guy, the one people leaned on but didn’t rea

Elena’s fingers went cold.No caption. No timestamp. No sender.But she knew.Because years ago, before everything burned, before names became liabilities and survival became a skill, there had been a language only two people spoke.Phantom Wolf had taught it to her under the guise of strategy.“Words get intercepted,” he’d said then, moving a knight across the board. “Patterns don’t.”She stared at the board.The placement was wrong. Intentionally wrong.A bishop sacrificed too early. A queen held back when she should have advanced.It wasn’t a move meant to win.It was a move meant to signal.I see you.Her throat tightened.The image vanished a second later, the message self destructing as if it had never existed. Her phone returned to its home screen, innocent and blank.Elena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.So he knew.Not suspected. Not assumed.Knew.He knew she’d figured it out. That the Phantom Wolf wasn’t a ghost or a convenient shadow to blame chaos

Mrs. Harrow’s breath caught sharply.“Not because of Harrow,” Roman added. “Not because of revenge.”“This is about ensuring,” Elena said, pulling back, “that you never get the chance to aim at someone else again.”Mrs. Harrow stood frozen, rage collapsing inward, something darker creeping in to replace it.Fear.It bloomed slowly, inexorably, as understanding settled.Elena had not destroyed her life.Elena had survived it. And survival, Mrs. Harrow was beginning to realize, was far more terrifying than vengeance ever was.Elena turned first. Roman followed.They walked away calmly, unhurried, their footsteps fading into the low murmur of the memorial.Behind them, Mrs. Harrow remained rooted in place, surrounded by candles and flowers and grief that no longer belonged to her.Vengeance slipped from her grasp. And in its place, cold and suffocating, fear finally took hold.By evening, the story no longer belonged to whispers inside a memorial hall.It belonged to the world.The first

They were almost out.The doors stood ahead of them like an exit from a held breath, tall and solemn, framed by candlelight and marble.Roman had already adjusted his stride, subtly angling Elena away from the remaining clusters of mourners.The memorial had given enough tonight. Too much, perhaps.Then Elena stopped.Not sharply. Not dramatically. Just enough that Roman felt the pause travel through the space between them like a warning.He followed her gaze.Mrs. Harrow stood alone near a stone column, half concealed by an arrangement of wilting white lilies.She looked… altered. Smaller, yes, but more than that, undone in ways money could no longer disguise.Her posture was rigid, chin lifted in defiance, yet her hands betrayed her, fingers clasped too tightly, knuckles pale.Roman exhaled slowly.“Elena,” he murmured. “We don’t need to.”“I do,” Elena said.She turned without waiting for his approval.Roman hesitated only a moment before falling into step beside her. Whatever hist

Elena arrived at the memorial under a name that was not hers.Not publicly, at least.The invitation had not been meant for her. The world still believed Elena Sinclair was dead, and in many ways, that was the only reason she was standing here now, alive and breathing beneath the low amber lights of the hall.Roman walked beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. He did not touch her. Touch would draw attention. But his presence was a steady weight at her side, a reminder that she was not walking into this alone.The air inside the memorial space was thick with reverence and restraint.Candles lined the walls. White flowers crowded every surface, overwhelming in their abundance. Grief curated to look beautiful.Elena’s gaze found Lysandra’s photograph almost immediately.She did not flinch.The girl’s smile stared back at her, bright and unaware, frozen in a moment that had existed before everything went wrong.Elena had seen that smile up close. Had heard Lysandra

Senator Vauxhaul did not raise his voice.That was what made it worse.The noise of the memorial ebbed around them, grief murmuring softly through the hall like a tide held back by glass. Flowers, candles, the polite choreography of condolences. All of it felt distant now, irrelevant, as though the world had narrowed to the space between them.He looked at Mrs. Harrow for a long moment after she spoke.Not with shock. Not even with outrage.With decision.“You’re right about one thing,” he said at last, his tone level, almost conversational. “If Lysandra were your daughter, you would not accept what you just told me.”Mrs. Harrow’s fingers curled slowly at her side.“But you’re wrong about the rest,” Vauxhaul continued. “Very wrong.”She opened her mouth, instinctively, and he lifted a hand. Not sharply. Just enough.“No,” he said. “You’ve spoken. Now you’ll listen.”The authority in his voice was not political. It was paternal. Absolute.“This did not start with my daughter,” he wen

Vera had stepped fully into her role as CEO of the Sterling Group, transforming it into one of the most formidable business empires in the country.Her leadership was steady yet bold, and her reputation as both strategist and visionary had silenced every critic who once doubted her.She commanded respect not because of her family name, but because she had earned it.Asher, meanwhile, stood unshaken at the helm of Donovan Group. Ruthless in business yet tender with his family, he had rebuilt the company’s legacy into one of integrity and strength.But beyond the accolades, beyond the flashing headlines that often followed them, it was this, the quiet laughter of their child, the warmth of family gathered, that truly mattered.As the children continued their games, Vera leaned into Asher slightly, her voice low. “She’s so happy,” she whispered.Asher’s lips curved into a small smile. “She deserves nothing less. After everything, she deserves the world.”Vera glanced toward Mrs. Fontaine

Vera’s hand rose, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze again. “It makes you a man who finally stopped enabling a monster. Asher, you didn’t do this because you wanted to hurt her. You did it because if you didn’t, she would have destroyed us.”She leaned in, her forehead pressing against his. “You did it for me. For Eira. That is not something to hate yourself for. That is something to hold onto.”He closed his eyes, and his body sagged. The tension melted, leaving behind exhaustion so deep it made him tremble.He let out a shaky breath, and Vera held him through it, her arms slipping around him as if she could anchor him back to the life they still had.“You’re not alone,” she whispered into his ear. “You’ll never be alone, Asher. Not while we’re here.”He clung to her then, his walls finally breaking in the safety of her embrace.His fingers dug into her waist as if she were the only thing tethering him to the ground.For Asher Donovan, power had always been about control

Evelyn's knees buckled, and for the first time in my life, Vera saw Evelyn Donovan crumble.She sank into the chair behind her, her manicured hands clutching the armrests as though the ground beneath her had disappeared.Her shoulders shook, not with delicate sobs, but with the raw, guttural cries of a woman who had lost everything she had ever built her identity upon.“You can’t leave me like this,” she wept. “Don’t leave me alone…”Loneliness. The one thing Evelyn had always feared more than death.She had surrounded herself with influence, with people who bowed to her power, with the illusion of loyalty, but deep down, she had always known that none of it was love. And now, even the illusion was gone.Asher’s face didn’t flinch. He stood like stone, though you could see the tremor in his clenched fists, the tightening of his jaw.“This is mercy,” he said quietly. “Because prison would have been easier. At least there, you’d have company.”Her cry ripped through the room.Vera swall

Sarah was supposed to be her weapon. A perfect instrument, polished, loyal, and pliable enough to execute Evelyn’s designs against Vera without dirtying Evelyn’s own hands. And yet, here she was, reduced to a national spectacle, dragged through the mud, her name blackened beyond repair.It wasn’t just Sarah’s ruin Evelyn was watching.It was a message.Asher’s message.Her son had finally turned his hand against her, and instead of coming directly for her, he had chosen to dismantle her pawn first, publicly, mercilessly, and with precision so calculated it sent a chill through Evelyn’s veins.She rose from her chair and moved to the window, clutching the silk of her robe tightly around her.The city skyline glittered beyond the Donovan estate, but for once it did not comfort her.“Asher…” she whispered under her breath, her tone trembling between disbelief and rage. “You dare.”Memories of the confrontation with him days earlier, the cold finality in his voice, the way his eyes had sh

“You’re asking me to destroy my own mother,” Asher murmured, his voice low, almost ragged.“I’m asking you,” Vera shot back, her tone razor sharp, “to choose the family you built, the one standing in front of you, over the woman who’s been tearing it apart since the beginning.”Her chest heaved as she leaned closer, her hand pressing against his chest, right over his heart. “Asher, look at me. Look at what she’s done. To me. To you. To our daughter.” Her voice cracked again, her anger shaking under the weight of her grief. “Dorian is dead because of her. And Eira…” Vera’s lips quivered. “Eira might never feel safe again. How many more times are you going to let her burn everything we love before you finally stop her?”The silence that followed was suffocating.Asher closed his eyes, his breath jagged.He wanted to say I can’t.He wanted to admit that every instinct in him screamed against turning on his mother, no matter how vile her sins. But another voice, darker, sharper, echoed lo

Asher poured himself a glass of scotch, the amber liquid trembling in his hand.He didn’t drink it. He set it down hard on the desk and braced his palms against the wood. His reflection in the glass window stared back at him, the ruthless heir, the man who could destroy empires without blinking. But when it came to his mother, when it came to her, he was a boy again, chained by blood, unable to lift the sword."Asher Donovan," he muttered bitterly to himself, "you can tear the world apart… but you can’t cut down the woman who’s burning your family alive."His throat tightened. His jaw clenched. He wanted to scream. To smash the glass. To break free from the invisible leash that Evelyn had wrapped around him since birth.But all he did was stand there in the suffocating silence, hating himself for the one truth he couldn’t change.He could fight anyone.He could end anyone.Except her...................Vera sat on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly across her chest, her gaze

Julian exhaled slowly, nodding. “I don’t want you to forget,” he murmured. “I just want you to let me make it right.”His fingers brushed over her knuckles, tentative, as if giving her the chance to pull away. But she didn’t. She let him hold her hands, let him be close.“I spent years blaming your father for what happened to mine,” Julian continued, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe some of that blame was justified. But I made the mistake of thinking you were just another extension of him, that hurting you would somehow fix what was broken inside me.”A pained look crossed his face, regret etched into every feature. “But all I did was hurt the one person who had nothing to do with any of it. And I will never forgive myself for that.”Alexis swallowed the lump in her throat, her own regrets beginning to surface.She had tried to ignore the way her heart had ached in his absence. She had told herself she was better off without him, that his betrayal had severed the connection be

As they strolled beneath the Eiffel Tower, the golden glow of the city casting long shadows around them, Alexis felt an unfamiliar warmth settle in her chest. She had spent so long running, from her past, from Julian, from herself. But now, in this moment, it was as if time had slowed, allowing her to breathe, to truly take it all in.Julian didn’t rush her. He simply walked beside her, their fingers still loosely intertwined, as if he was afraid that if he held on too tightly, she would slip away.“Do you remember what you told me that night?” Julian asked softly.Alexis frowned slightly, searching her memory. “Which night?”“The night of the gala,” he clarified, glancing at her with a knowing look. “You told me that I was a mistake waiting to happen.”Alexis let out a small, breathy laugh. “That does sound like something I would say.”Julian’s lips curved into a smirk. “And you weren’t wrong.”Alexis tilted her head up, watching the soft glow of the tower above them. “It wasn’t just

Harrison Montgomery had always been a man of power, control, and strategy. He built an empire from the ground up, ensuring that his family never lacked anything. To him, emotions were liabilities, love was a distraction, and personal connections were just another battlefield where the strongest prevailed.And yet, as he stood by the large windows of his estate, watching his daughter through the glass as she sat in the garden, something in him shifted.Alexis was smiling. A real, genuine smile.For months, she had walked around with a guarded expression, a shadow of the confident, fierce woman he had raised. She had been betrayed, humiliated, and hurt in ways no father would ever want for his child. He had watched her hide her pain behind work, pretending she was fine, but he had known better.But now, this was different.She was laughing softly as she stared at her phone, a small, almost shy smile on her lips. Her fingers hovered over the screen, typing something before deleting it an

Julian answered on the first ring.“Alexis?” His voice was cautious, unsure.She swallowed hard, her grip on the phone tightening as she stood outside his childhood home. The wind rustled through the overgrown grass, carrying with it the echoes of the past she had just walked through.“I went to your house,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.Silence.For a long moment, there was nothing but his breath on the other end of the line. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. “You didn’t have to do that.”“But I did,” she countered. “I had to see it. I had to understand.”A bitter chuckle escaped him. “And? Do you understand now? Do you finally see what your father did to me?”Her heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice.“I see everything, Julian,” she said softly. “The eviction notices, the empty cabinets… the house falling apart. You had nothing.”He exhaled shakily. “We had worse than nothing.”She closed her eyes, imagining a younger Julian standing in th

Julian sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His heart still pounded in his chest, the image of Alexis standing in the doorway burned into his mind.She hadn’t told him to leave.She hadn’t slammed the door in his face.That had to mean something, didn’t it?He let out a heavy breath, resting his forehead against the wheel. He had spent so long fighting battles against Charlotte, against his mother, against the world… but this was the most important fight of all. The one for Alexis.And if waiting was what it took, then he would wait.He just prayed she would give him the chance to prove himself before it was too late.Julian knew better than to push.For the first time in his life, he was stepping back, not because he was giving up, but because he finally understood that love wasn’t something he could win like a business deal or a war. Alexis wasn’t a prize to be claimed. She was a woman who had been hurt, who had every right to doubt him, and if he truly wanted a futu

Alexis pressed the power button on her phone, silencing the vibration that followed Julian’s call. Her heart was pounding, her emotions tangled in a war between longing and self preservation. She had spent weeks convincing herself that she was done with him, that she had buried every last trace of love she had for him beneath the rubble of his betrayal.But then, there he was, standing in front of the entire world, stripping himself of his armor and baring his soul in a way she never thought he would. And now, she didn’t know what to do with the feelings clawing their way back to the surface.A knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. Her breath caught. Had he come to see her? No, Julian wouldn’t be that reckless, would he?Slowly, she made her way to the door, her pulse racing. When she opened it, she wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved or disappointed to see Sophia standing there instead.“Can I come in?” Sophia asked softly, her eyes searching Alexis’ face.Alexis stepped