Novels by Yusrah

Ivy slammed her glass down, making the ice rattle. Her patience was running thin."So tell me, Roberto!" she snapped, her eyes burning with frustration. "Why the hell are you so obsessed with destroying your own family?"Roberto exhaled slowly, the smirk on his face fading. He swirled his drink, staring into it as if the answer lay at the bottom of the glass."You want the truth?" he muttered. He leaned back, stretching an arm over the couch, his fingers lazily brushing against the blonde curled up beside him. She didn’t react—probably too drunk or high to care."I was supposed to be him," Roberto said bitterly. "Karl Hendrix. The golden boy. The heir. The one my father groomed to take over the empire." He scoffed, shaking his head. "But Karl? He was perfect. Clean. Calculated. And me?" He chuckled darkly. "Too wild too reckless as they had called me . A disappointment."Ivy watched him, arms crossed, waiting."My father gave Karl everything—everything that should’ve been mine. Power

The clanking of boots against the cold prison floor made Ivy tense. She knew what was coming."Time's up," the guard announced, his voice flat and uninterested.Ivy ignored him, her hands still resting on Harry’s, her fingers tracing the roughness of his knuckles. "I don’t want to go yet," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes burning into hers. "You have to," he said, his jaw tightening. "You’ve done enough, Ivy. Don't wear yourself out for me."Her throat tightened. “You’re behind bars because of them. I’m not stopping till I get you out.”The guard shifted impatiently. “Miss, I said time’s—”Harry’s head snapped toward him, his voice a dangerous growl. “Don’t dare touch her. I don’t care if I’m behind bars.”The guard hesitated, taking a step back.Ivy turned back to Harry, her chest aching. "I’ll be back," she promised.Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers through the bars. “Be careful, Ivy.” His voice was rough, filled with

Ivy spent the next twelve hours chasing ghosts.Agent after agent, office after office—each door she knocked on came with the same answer: No.First, it was a stiff-faced woman at the state security office, who barely looked up from her computer as she muttered, “We don’t issue access passes for criminal detainees without higher authorization.”Then, at the Department of Justice, a man with tired eyes and coffee-stained sleeves shook his head. “Sorry, Miss Ivy. Even as his lawyer, you need clearance from someone way above my pay grade.”By the time she reached her fourth contact—a private consultant who claimed he had “connections”—Ivy was already drained. But she still pulled out a thick envelope of cash, sliding it across the table.The man, a greasy-haired official with a nervous smile,eyed the money before exhaling. “Miss Ivy, I like money. But I also like breathing. And granting you this? That’s a one-way ticket to making powerful enemies.”She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I j

“And I vow to end Harry.” Valeria’s lips stretched into a slow, wicked smile, her fingers twitching toward the stack of cash. “Now, may I have those?”She flinged her wrist, sending the crisp dollar bills scattering onto the dusty floor. “Knock yourself out,” she muttered, watching as Valeria lunged for the money like a starved dog.Four down.She turned on her heel, stepping over a stray bill as she walked out. There were still nine more names on her list.Her phone rang, breaking the silence. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.A news notification flashed. She tapped it, and a live broadcast played—in a sleek newsroom, a stern-faced reporter held some stack of papers."Breaking news. The long-anticipated Hendrix trial has officially been scheduled for September 26th. After days of speculation, the court has confirmed the date for what is expected to be one of the most controversial cases in recent history..."Ivy’s grip on her phone tightened. September 26th.The countdown

Ivy let her lips part slightly, eyes lowering as if she were just another woman caught in Vincenzo Moretti’s web. But she wasn’t.She took a slow step forward, letting her fingers trail down the thin strap of her dress. “I heard you like obedience,” she murmured, voice honeyed and sultry. The glow of the chandelier shone against the expensive scotch in his glass.Moretti smirked, his gaze raking over her. “Obedience is good.” He took a sip, eyes darkening. “But submission is better.”She nearly gagged. Instead, she lowered herself onto the armrest of his chair, legs crossed deliberately. The scent of alcohol and cigars clung to him. She picked up his glass, swirling the liquid before pressing it to her lips—just enough to tease.“Tell me something,” she purred, tilting her head. “You’ve been around a long time, haven’t you? Longer than the Hendrix name.”Moretti’s smirk faltered for half a second. He leaned back, swirling his drink as if contemplating her words. Bingo.“You ask dan

Ivy picked up the heavy bottle of whiskey from the table, her fingers wrapping around its cool glass. She poured a generous amount into a glass, then lifted it to Damien’s lips, tilting it just enough for the liquid to slide past his lips.“Tell me, baby…” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear as she leaned in. “I need to know.”Damien chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice tinged with the sluggishness of alcohol settling in his system. He swallowed, his head tipping back against the couch, eyes half-lidded but still sharp. “You’re a dangerous woman,” he murmured. Ivy only smiled, running her nails lightly down his chest, keeping him exactly where she wanted him. “And you’re a man with secrets.”Damien exhaled, tapping his fingers against the glass. The whiskey had loosened his tongue, and Ivy saw the moment his restraint cracked.“Harry Hendrix…” he muttered, rolling the name over his tongue like a curse. His fingers curled tighter around the glass. “That bastard is my stepbrother