Novels by Nanya Uwajeh

“Vanya, the investors have filed a lawsuit against me.”Damon's words hit me like a brick wall, and for a moment, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. I grip my phone tighter, my mind whirling as if it’s trying to outrun the suddenness of the news. My breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. How can this be happening? How can I possibly ask Rex for the money now, when his ten-billion-dollar deal is still hanging in the balance?“Hello? Vanya, are you there?” Damon’s voice filters through the fog of my thoughts, his worry clear in the way he says my name again.“Yes,” I whisper finally, my voice barely audible. “I’m here. I just… It’s too sudden.”He sighs heavily, the sound filled with weariness. “Yeah, it is.”Even through the phone, I can picture him running his hand through his curly hair like he always does when he’s anxious. It’s such a vivid image that it almost makes me smile—almost.“When’s the deadline for a response?” I ask, forcing myself to focus.“I got th

My eyes are still glued to the phone in my hand as I scroll through the endless articles on my "whirlwind romance" with Rex Patterson. The images capture every fake smile, every accidental touch, and every heated gaze.A soft knock pulls me from the spiral of headlines and glossy pictures."Come in," I say, sitting up straighter on the bed, my phone still clutched in my hand.The door creaks open, and Rex steps inside. He looks hesitant, something I don’t see often. His usual confidence seems to falter, and for a moment, he looks… unsure."You’ve seen it," he says, nodding toward the phone in my hand. "Of course," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. "The journalists didn’t waste any time, did they? It’s barely been an hour since we left the lunch party.”Rex nods, chuckling dryly. "They live for moments like that.”“They never waste time, especially when it comes to anything remotely scandalous or dramatic,” he adds, stepping closer until he perches on the edge of my

Claire’s laughter rings out as she throws her arms around Rex. The crowd seems to pause, murmuring as they watch her press herself against him. I freeze, the sight sparking a bitter heat in my chest. Her dark hair gleams under the crystal chandelier, her slim frame almost melting into his.But Rex doesn’t linger in her embrace. He gently pulls her away, his hand sliding into mine. The warmth of his touch steadies me, but my heart still pounds.“This is my wife, Nora,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “I believe you’ve met her.”Claire’s sharp gaze flicks over to me, a smirk curling her lips. “Oh, yes. Your wife.” She scoffs, the condescension dripping from her voice like venom, then turns on her heel and walks off without another word.Rex exhales, his shoulders slightly tense. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, his tone softer now. He looks… embarrassed? Vulnerable? “Claire can be—”“It’s all right,” I interrupt, my voice light. I force a smile, but inside, I’m seething. “Let’s just h

I walk back to my room, my heels echoing softly against the marble floor. Victor's words replay in my mind, slicing through my thoughts with the precision of a blade: "Don’t think I’ve forgotten my promise from five years ago. I’m still capable of dealing with her."My chest tightens, but I force myself to breathe. I can't confront Rex now. Not when I don't fully understand what's at stake. Moreover, he won’t give me answers. He never does.The Patterson men have me in a chokehold. I'm starting to wonder if it's too late to escape.As I approach my room, a petite woman, probably in her fifties, comes into view. She’s walking toward me with a warm smile on her face, her hands folded neatly in front of her.“Hola, señora,” she says, her Spanish accent thick but sweet. “You don’t know me, sí?”I blink at her, confused. “Uh, no. I don’t. Who are you?”“My name is Rosa Hernández,” she replies, beaming. “Señor Patterson, he employ me yesterday. I am new cook—for you.” She tilts her head sli

The cab hums softly as it glides through the evening streets, the city lights casting flickering patterns on the windows. My heart is full as I think about Christian and Tristan. Their goodbye is fresh in my mind, like a scene etched in gold.“Mummy, don’t go!” Christian had wailed, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His little face pressed against me as if he could glue us together forever.Tristan had stood nearby, his big brown eyes solemn but understanding beyond his years. “It’s okay, Christian,” he’d said softly. “Mum has to go, but she’ll come back soon. She always does.”I had knelt down and pulled both of them into my arms. “You’re so brave, Tristan,” I had whispered, my voice cracking.He’d reached out with his small hand and wiped away the tear that escaped my eye. “Don’t cry, Mum. You're our superhero.”I smile at the memory, even as a lump forms in my throat. They are my world—my reason for breathing. I would do anything to keep them safe, even if that means k

I step into Damon’s house with the twins, the sound of their excited chatter filling the air as they clutch their new action figures. The living room is cozy, with soft beige walls and plush brown couches that have clearly survived many battles with sticky hands and juice spills. Toys lie scattered on the carpet like tiny landmines.The twins' babysitter, a young high schooler named Sandra, looks up from the couch where she’s scrolling on her phone. Her face brightens when she sees me. She’s slim with a bubbly smile and braces that sparkle when she speaks. Her curly hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a sunflower-printed dress that matches her sunny energy.“Hi, Ms. Vanya,” she greets, standing up quickly. “The boys have been great, as usual. No trouble at all.”I smile at her, pulling out some cash from my purse. “Thanks for looking after them, Sandra. I really appreciate it.”Her eyes widen slightly when I hand her the money. “Wow, this is more than usual. Thank you so

My heart keeps pounding as I walk back quickly to Damon's room, push the door open and close it behind me. My hands tremble as I sit on the edge of the bed, my mind spinning. The ledger is gone. Missing.The thought keeps hammering in my head like a drumbeat I can’t silence. How long has it been missing? Who took it? Could it be Cain? My chest tightens at the impossibility, the edges of my vision blurring with panic. I press my fingers against my temples, trying to rub away the throbbing ache building behind my eyes. These headaches are relentless, creeping up on me more often than ever. I sigh, frustrated, and glance around Damon’s room. It feels suffocating, the walls closing in on me, as if the missing ledger holds my very sanity hostage.My throat feels parched, but I don’t move to get water. Instead, I replay every moment in my mind. Someone knows. Someone knows I’ve been watching Cain.But who?It’s not Damon. If he found the ledger, he would’ve confronted me, his stormy eyes d

The weight of their stares burns my skin, but I keep my head high, my eyes cold as steel. The murmurs grow louder, like a swarm of bees buzzing around me, but I don’t let it faze me. “Claire,” I say softly, my voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “We all have our stories, don’t we? And some are better left untold.” Her smile falters for the briefest second before she masks it again. The she-wolves shift in their seats, exchanging uncertain glances. I sit straighter, a quiet fire igniting in my chest. If Claire wants a war, she’ll get one. But it’ll be on my terms. Claire clears her throat, forcing an awkward laugh. “Nora, I didn’t mean to insult your pride or anything. I was just stating—” I cut her off before she can finish. “Claire,” I say, my tone as sharp as a dagger, “what do you think about the evidence of your mate stealing pack resources, receiving bribes, and committing other criminal acts?” The room goes silent. Every gaze swings to Claire, their curiosity

Liam strides into the dining hall as we’re halfway through breakfast. The children are chattering noisily—Lily giggling at Zane’s attempt to stack eggs on his fork, Eli narrating some grand adventure he apparently dreamed about last night. The warm, mundane chaos of family fills the room.Damon looks up at Liam’s entrance. Liam bows respectfully to us, then leans down to whisper something in Damon’s ear. Whatever he says makes Damon stiffen, his jaw tightening. Surprise flickers across his face, quickly followed by determination, then anger.“I’ll be back,” Damon says abruptly, pushing back his chair. He strides out of the room with Liam before I can ask what’s wrong.I watch him leave, unease bubbling in my chest. My gaze lingers on the empty doorway, my mind racing with questions.“Mama,” Zane calls, drawing my attention back to the table. “Look!”He’s balancing an apple on his head, grinning like he’s performed a grand trick. Lily claps, her curls bouncing. “You look like a silly A

The commotion in the market draws my attention. I turn toward the noise and freeze. A long line of slaves trudges past, their wrists chained, their bodies bent under the weight of exhaustion. Their faces are gaunt, hollow, and streaked with dirt, their clothes tattered beyond recognition. The merchants leading them bark orders, whips in hand, striking those who stumble.I catch my breath when one of the slaves collapses—a girl, too young, her frail body crumpling to the muddy ground. A whip cracks through the air, slashing across her back, tearing through her tattered clothes. The girl doesn’t even cry out; she’s too weak to make a sound.“Stand!” the man with the whip bellows, his face contorted in fury. When she doesn’t move, he raises the whip again.“Stop it!” The words escape my lips before I think. The man freezes mid-swing, his beady eyes snapping toward me.The other merchants and their miserable captives halt. Even the bustle of the market seems to fade as people turn to watc

The rain pours down in icy sheets, drenching me to the bone. My fists slam into the wooden dummy again and again, the rhythm of my punches syncing with the storm. Each strike burns, my knuckles raw and splitting, but I don’t stop. I can’t. The cold rain numbs my fingers, yet the fire inside me rages hotter.I think of Damon—his smirk, his warmth, his maddening calmness. Why does he have this hold on me? Then Cain and Claire flash in my mind. They robbed me of everything. My life as Lira, my family, my future. And here I am, reborn as Nora Moonblood, trapped in a new life I didn’t choose, pretending to be someone I’m not.I land another punch, and the dummy creaks. The pain in my knuckles barely registers. Each hit feels like an attempt to shatter my doubts, my anger, my confusion. Who am I, really? Lira, the weak she-wolf who trusted too much? Or Nora, the strong Luna determined to rewrite her fate?The rain drowns out my ragged breaths, muting the storm in my chest—until strong arms

I push open Damon’s door, still lost in thought about Grand Luna Eve’s late-night escape. Where could she have gone last night? Why was she cloaked?The room is dimly lit, and the scent of fresh soap fills the air. My gaze lands on Damon.He stands by the window, shirtless, a towel slung low on his hips. His wet hair glistens under the flickering lantern light, sending rivulets of water down his chiseled chest. My eyes follow one drop as it travels from his sharp collarbone, over his taut abs, and disappears below the towel's edge.I gulp, heat spreading across my cheeks. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he adjusts the window latch. Every inch of him screams strength, and I feel the tension in the air thickening as my eyes linger.“See something you like?” Damon’s voice is low, teasing, snapping me out of my trance.I look up to find his smirk—confident, knowing. My mouth opens, but no words come out.“You can’t see everything from over there,” he continues, his tone drippi