Novels by Nanya Uwajeh

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

The sound of a car engine starting drifts into my room, pulling me from sleep. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. A glance at the clock tells me it’s not even seven. I shuffle to the window, pulling the curtain aside just in time to see Rex’s car disappear down the driveway.He left without saying a word.I shouldn’t care, but irritation flares in my chest. After last night’s drama, I expected at least an apology. Claire’s smug voice still echoes in my mind, her words cutting deeper than I’d like to admit."A contract marriage? Really, Rex? You don’t need this... farce when we could have the real thing."I shake my head, banishing the memory. Claire doesn’t get to ruin another moment of my life.“No,” I mutter, my voice firm. “Not today.”Determined, I start my morning routine. After making my bed and tidying up the room, I sit at my desk and open my journal."Note to self: Don’t let petty people steal your peace. Breathe, smile, and focus on what matters."I underline the words twice, close

I stand rooted in the middle of the living room, Claire’s words echoing in my ears. Rex’s fiancée.No. This has to be a joke.My arms cross over my chest as I narrow my eyes at the tall, perfectly styled woman in front of me. Just as I’m about to demand an explanation, I hear a deep, familiar voice behind me.“Who is this, Vanya?”I look towards the door, and there he is. Rex Patterson. His sharp suit hangs over his arm, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the faint scent of his cologne drifting toward me. His brows are drawn together in confusion as his piercing gaze flicks between me and Claire.I didn’t hear his car drive in. I didn’t even hear the door open.Claire’s lips curve into a saccharine smile as she turns toward him. “Welcome, Rex.” Her voice is warm, sweet as honey, and it grates on my nerves.Rex’s eyes narrow. His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “What are you doing here, Claire?”The warmth in her smile falters, but only for a second. She rega

The walk home is quiet, the weight of the council meeting still pressing on my mind. When we step into the house, the warmth of the hearth embraces us, but Damon’s piercing gaze brings me back to reality.“Nora,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?”I glance up at him, startled by the tenderness in his tone. His concern catches me off guard, but I nod. “I’m fine. Thank you for standing up for me earlier. Cain deserved everything he got.”Damon’s jaw tightens, and he folds his arms across his chest. “How did you know about Cain’s theft?”For a moment, I hesitate. The memory of the anonymous letter flashes in my mind. I could tell him, but something holds me back. I meet his eyes, steady and unwavering. “I got an anonymous tip.”Damon sighs and shakes his head, his dark brows furrowing. “Nora, I’m still waiting for you to see that you can trust me.”“All in good time,” I reply, offering him a faint smile.He doesn’t push further. Instead, he walks to his room, leaving me in

I stare at the crumpled letter in my hand, my heartbeat pounding like a war drum. The words echo in my head, sharp and biting like the cold wind of a winter storm. My fingers tremble, but not with fear. No. This is something deeper—rage. With a sharp exhale, I tear the letter into tiny pieces, each rip satisfying a deep part of me.The scraps flutter to the ground like defeated enemies, but the fire inside me still burns.“Not now,” I whisper to myself, my voice low and steady. “Not now. But soon.”* * *When I enter the house, I catch Sigma Sean at the opposite door. He’s about to leave, his tall frame filling the doorway. I force a smile, masking the storm brewing inside me.“Sean,” I call out, drawing his attention. “How’s Natasha doing? She must be close now.”Sean’s face lights up like a boy with a jar of sweets. “She’s glowing, Luna! Glowing! The pup is strong—I can feel it already.” His pride is infectious, and his eagerness brings warmth to my heart.“I’m happy for you, Sean,”

I am six years old again, sitting in the warm embrace of my mama’s lap as she brushes my hair. Her touch is gentle, her humming soft and familiar. The scent of lavender from her favorite oil lingers in the air."Lira, be a good girl until we get back, okay?" Mama’s voice is as soothing as ever, but there’s an urgency in her tone today.I nod, my little heart swelling with the pride of her trust.Papa kneels before me, his rough hands cupping my cheeks as he plants a kiss on my forehead. "My Lira has always been a good girl."His words wrap around me like a warm blanket. I smile back at him, not knowing this moment will be the last of its kind.Then, suddenly, everything changes. They are gone.The room turns dark, the walls closing in on me. Shadows stretch and writhe, swallowing every trace of comfort. I clutch my chest as panic surges. "Mama? Papa?" My voice trembles, echoing back like a cruel taunt.The silence is deafening. And then, fire.Flames lick at the walls, their greedy to

Morning light streams through the curtains, and I can still feel the heat of Damon's lips on mine. I press my fingers to my lips, remembering how soft yet firm they felt, how they sent waves of warmth through me. My cheeks flush as the memory deepens. What was I thinking? I bury my face in my hands, groaning.“You’re overthinking,” Red says dryly in my head.“No, I made a fool of myself,” I argue back.Red scoffs. “You kissed your mate. That’s not foolish.”“But Damon is Nora’s mate, not mine,” I whisper. My voice wavers, and I can feel my wolf rolling her eyes.“You are Nora. Or have you forgotten?”Her words stab at my heart. She’s wrong—I’m Lira. I was killed, reborn into this body, and burdened with memories of a past life. If Damon finds out, he might hate me. Or worse...I groan louder, pulling the pillow over my head. “I’ll just avoid him.”Red chuckles. “For how long? You live in the same house, Nora.”“Until I don’t want to sink into the ground whenever I hear his voice or ca

(NORA'S POINT OF VIEW)The weight of the day presses down on me as I watch the children play outside the house. Eli, Zane, and Lily are chasing each other through the yard, their laughter light and free. My heart swells, but a quiet ache settles in my chest. They look so happy, so innocent. It’s hard to believe that only a few weeks ago, I almost lost everything. The attack. The blood. The fear.I touch my chest, feeling the faint scar that reminds me of how close I came to dying. It's hard to ignore the gnawing sense of something unfinished. I’ve been reborn, yes, but I’m still carrying the weight of my past life—my past pain.I don’t know how to balance this new life, this family, with the fire of vengeance that burns inside me. I had a purpose once, a mission. But now, with the triplets so eager to love me, I wonder if it’s too late to go down that path. Can I really hunt down those who took my old life? Is that even what I should do with the time I’ve been given?Damon enters the

(NORA’S POINT OF VIEW)*********Pain greets me like an unwelcome guest, hammering at my skull. My temples throb as if a thousand wolves are clawing inside my head. I groan, pressing my fingers to the ache, willing it to ease. The scent around me is warm and familiar, a mix of pine, rain, cedarwood, and something uniquely Damon.My eyes flutter open, and I realize where I am—Damon’s room.The space feels both commanding and serene. Dark wood dominates the room, from the massive bed frame to the bookshelves that line one wall, filled with everything from ancient pack chronicles to leather-bound classics. A fireplace crackles softly, casting flickers of amber light over the midnight blue curtains that frame tall windows. Damon’s scent lingers in the air, wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. It’s comforting. Too comforting.I close my eyes, trying to piece together what happened. The memories crash into me like a storm—the ambush, the teeth sinking into my side, the fear gripping