Novels by Faremi Abisola

"I am a masterpiece of artifice, and the truth is the only thing I cannot afford."I hear his footsteps before I see him. They are measured, heavy, and rhythmic. The kind of stride that expects the world to move out of the way. I am curled on the chaise in the conservatory, a thin blanket draped over my legs, my eyes fluttering shut as I hear the door click. I force my breathing to slow, to mimic the shallow, jagged pattern of someone drowning in their own exhaustion."Aiden?"My father’s voice is like grinding stone. I open my eyes, letting them appear glazed, unfocused. I struggle to prop myself up, my hands trembling with a calculated, rhythmic instability."Father? I didn't think you were coming today," I whisper, my voice cracking perfectly.He stands over me, his shadow stretching across the floor tiles. He isn't looking at my face. He is looking at my hands, at the way I grip the blanket, assessing the fragility I have curated for him."Liam told me you were worsening," he says

"My father is not a savior, he is the architect of the cage."I stare at the floorboards where his shoes clicked just moments ago. The echo of his arrival still vibrates in my chest, a reminder that I am surrounded by predators wearing the faces of kin. The drug Elena pumped into my system is a heavy fog, making my limbs feel like lead, but my mind is a sharp, jagged blade. I crawl toward the desk, pushing past the pain. The man in the suit is gone, left behind in the chaos of my father’s unexpected entrance.I reach the hidden terminal. My fingers are clumsy, but I force them to work. I need to know where the money went. I need to know how they plan to finish me.The screen flickers. Rows of numbers spill out, meaningless at first, then coalescing into a pattern. I follow the trail of wire transfers. It leads away from the company, away from the legal reach of the board, and into a deep, dark forest of shell companies.My breath hitches. The last account, the one holding the bulk of

"I thought I was finally alone, but the house is still breathing."I let the words slip out as I lock the heavy iron door behind me. My private estate is miles from the city, a tomb of stone and glass nestled deep in the woods. I drop my bags, the weight of them dragging me toward the floor. I press my palm to my stomach, feeling the slow, rhythmic roll of the baby. We made it. For now, we are out."Aiden?"I spin around, my heart slamming against my ribs. It’s just Elena, my nurse, standing in the foyer with a tray of medication. She looks at me with those soft, tired eyes that used to make me feel safe. Now, they just look like glass."You startled me," I say, my voice raspy. I try to steady my breath, to sink back into the character I have been forced to play. "I didn't expect you to be here tonight.""Liam asked me to stay," she says, stepping closer. She holds out the plastic cup with the blue pill. "He said you were distressed after the meeting. He’s worried about your heart, Ai

The air in the boardroom is so thin it feels like I am breathing glass.I sit at the head of the long, polished mahogany table, the wood cold against my palms. My hands are folded over my stomach, shielding the small, hard bump that has become my only compass. Liam is standing in the shadows by the glass wall, arms crossed, his silhouette a constant, looming pressure. He thinks I am broken. He thinks the trauma of last night, the bullets, and the shadows have left me too brittle to hold my own weight.He has no idea that the knife is already buried in his back."Aiden, you look exhausted," Julian, the chairman, says from the far end of the table. He leans forward, his gold cufflinks catching the morning sun. "Are you sure you shouldn't have stayed home? You look like you haven't slept in a week."I force a smile, feeling the stretch of skin across my cheekbones. "I appreciate the concern, Julian. Really. But there are things that need to be said.""We can handle the quarterly review,"

"You think you’re my savior, Liam, but you’re just the parasite who killed the host."I didn’t whisper it. I didn’t shout it. I let the words fall like lead weights into the silence of the bedroom, watching the way his face shifted, the way the smug, possessive warmth in his eyes flickered and died.He stood by the window, his silhouette dark against the moonlit garden. He turned slowly, his glass of scotch catching the light, his posture regal, untouchable. "Aiden, you’re tired. Your blood sugar is low. You’re confused.""I’m done," I said, rising from the bed. I didn't care about the mask anymore. My legs were steady, my grip on the edge of the dresser firm. I pulled the thumb drive from the lining of my coat—the coat I had kept hanging in the closet like a relic of a life he had tried to erase. "I’m done with the pills. I’m done with the nurses. And I am definitely done with the lies."He took a step toward me, his brow furrowed in that imitation of concern that used to make me mel

The silence in this room is no longer empty, it is a lie. I stare at the three tiny black devices sitting on my nightstand, their little red lights blinking like the eyes of a demon, and I feel something snap inside me. Not the fragile, weeping snap of a broken Omega, but the sharp, dangerous click of a blade being drawn from a sheath. I was an apex predator for years. I built an empire on the corpses of men who thought they were smarter than me. I might be bleeding, I might be carrying this burden in my belly, but I am not dead yet.I hear the heavy tread of boots in the hallway. Liam. He is coming, probably to check on his investment, to see if his little pet is still behaving. I quickly sweep the bugs into a drawer, my movements smooth and deliberate. I smooth out my shirt, force the tension out of my jaw, and sit on the edge of the bed. I slump my shoulders just enough to look defeated, just enough to look like the wounded bird he wants me to be.The door opens. Liam stands there,