Novels by Ivy Monroe

Lucien remained in his office long after midnight. The city beyond the glass walls had gone quiet hours ago, the rain reducing the streets below to blurred reflections and silver streaks of light. Most of the building was dark now, empty in the cold, polished way expensive places often became after midnight. But Lucien hadn’t moved. The reports still lay open across his desk exactly where Elias had left them. Aira Bennett. Observed leaving residence. Observed entering clinic. Observed alone. The words felt wrong every time he read them. Too detached. Too clinical. As though someone had reduced her life to movement logs and timestamps instead of seeing what she really had been at the time. Pregnant. Alone. Afraid. Lucien leaned back slowly in his chair, one hand pressed against his mouth while exhaustion settled heavily beneath his skin. For years, he had convinced himself he understood what happened between them. Aira left. That had always been the

Aira almost called Lucien three times that morning. The first time was while Zayn searched the apartment for his missing shoe, his small voice echoing through the hallway while she stood near the kitchen counter gripping her phone too tightly. “Mum, I think it disappeared.” Aira blinked, dragging herself back from the thoughts consuming her. “Shoes don’t disappear.” “They do when I’m late.” Despite everything pressing against her chest, the corner of her mouth twitched faintly. She walked toward the couch, crouched slightly, and pulled the missing shoe from underneath it. Zayn gasped dramatically. “See? It was hiding.” “Clearly.” He grinned before rushing off again, completely unaware that her hands were trembling. The second time she almost called Lucien was after dropping Zayn at school. She had just pulled away from the curb when she noticed the black car again. Across the street. Parked too still. Too deliberate. Aira’s stomach tightened instantly.

Aira had learned something very early after Zayn was born. Silence could feel safer than truth. Especially when truth had consequences. The apartment was quiet that morning, soft sunlight filtering through the curtains and falling in thin lines across the kitchen floor. Zayn sat at the counter eating breakfast, completely absorbed in his dinosaur book, his voice breaking the stillness every few seconds with innocent excitement. “Mum, this one can run very fast.” Aira glanced over, forcing a small smile. “Faster than you?” Zayn thought about it seriously. “Maybe.” That almost made her laugh. Almost. Her phone buzzed on the counter. Unknown Number. The smile faded instantly. Aira didn’t move for a second. Just stared at it, like if she didn’t acknowledge it, it would stop existing. Then she picked it up. No text preview. Just an image. She opened it. And everything in her chest went still. Zayn. Yesterday. Walking out of school. Captured from

Lucien had spent years believing silence was control. If he ignored something long enough, buried it deeply enough, eventually it would stop existing. That was how he survived the last three years. He worked longer hours. Expanded the company. Filled every empty space with something productive enough to keep his mind from wandering backward. It worked. Until Aira came back into his life. Until Zayn. Until one impossible resemblance turned old grief into something far more dangerous. Doubt. The office was nearly dark now, illuminated only by the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the windows. A soft rain had started sometime after midnight, tapping faintly against the glass in an uneven rhythm that somehow made the silence heavier instead of softer. Lucien sat alone behind his desk, the reopened case file spread in front of him. He had reread the same pages three times already. Not because he was searching for answers. Because he was searching for consisten

Aira didn’t realize she was staring until Zayn spoke again. “Mum?” She blinked and looked down at the drawing in his hands once more. Three figures. Him. Her. Lucien. Zayn followed her gaze quickly before speaking again, almost defensively. “Uncle Adrian was supposed to be there too, but I ran out of space.” Something in her chest tightened unexpectedly. Not because of what he said. Because of how quickly he felt the need to explain it. Aira forced a softer expression and brushed a hand lightly through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. It’s a nice drawing.” Zayn grinned immediately, satisfied with her answer, before jumping off the couch and running toward his room again. “I’m going to color it!” “Okay,” she replied quietly. The apartment fell silent again after he disappeared. Aira remained seated for a moment longer, her thoughts slower now. He was getting attached. Not carefully. Not cautiously. Naturally. And that was the dangerous part. Becau

Lucien didn’t call ahead. He didn’t need to. By the time he arrived, the house was quiet in the controlled, deliberate way it always was. The lights were dim but intentional, the space arranged with the kind of precision that suggested nothing was ever left to chance. Selene liked order. She liked knowing exactly where everything stood. Including people. He let himself in without knocking. She was in the living room, seated comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of water resting lightly between her fingers. The television was on, muted, the moving images casting soft light across the room. When she looked up and saw him, she didn’t startle. She didn’t even look surprised. If anything, there was the faintest trace of expectation in her expression. “You’re early,” she said, her tone easy, almost conversational. Lucien closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing just enough to shift the atmosphere. His gaze settled on her, steady and unreadable.