My name is Curtis Vance, and I was worth $12.4 billion on the Tuesday I was supposed to die. $12.4 billion. It’s a…
The scent of three thousand white roses was suffocating. It was all I could smell, thick and cloyingly sweet, as I stood at…
My name is Isabella Santos. And this is not a story about a crime. It’s a story about a system. A system that…
The hum was the first thing I noticed. It wasn’t a sound. It was a vibration, a low, steady thrum of power that…
The mat was a familiar kind of hell. Not the real kind—not the kind that smells of cordite, copper, and adrenaline—but the training…
The first sound that cut through the darkness was a siren. It felt distant, like it was happening to someone else, in another…
My sister, Isabella. That was the name that flashed in my mind. Dead at 19. An overdose of heroin laced with fentanyl, sold…
Lana was gone, the echo of her footsteps fading on the gravel path. I was left alone on the dock, the permission slip…
My heart was hammering in my chest, louder than the gasps filling the grand hall. The shattered crystal lay at my feet, crimson…
For seven years, I loved Felix Feng. For three years, I was his wife. And for three years, I was invisible. I was…