Novels by Ramzy

THE OFFER YOU DIDN'T ASK FORKyrie didn't wake up. She surfaced.The way a body rose from deep water, fighting against pressure and darkness, lungs burning for something it wasn't sure it deserved. Her eyes opened to a ceiling too high, painted in a color that wasn't white but wasn't anything else either. A color chosen by someone who had never worried about paint prices.She lay still for a long moment, counting her breaths. The sheets were too soft. The pillow too perfect. The silence too complete.Three days.She had been here three days, taking meals on a tray she didn't request, speaking to a housekeeper who answered in nods, avoiding the main living area like it might swallow her whole if she stayed too long in its sight. She had told herself she was recovering. That the fever needed time. That her body needed rest.But this morning, her body was fine. And her pride was restless.She pushed herself up slowly, testing her balance. The room didn't spin. The floor was warm under he

The penthouse didn’t feel like luxury tonight.It felt like containment.Glass walls swallowed the city skyline into a blurred constellation of lights, rain still trailing down the windows in thin restless lines. Inside, everything was too quiet in a way that made even breathing sound intentional.Kyrie lay on the guest bed Cassian had not originally intended to use.Not fully conscious.Not fully gone either.Her body hovered somewhere between exhaustion and fevered sleep, lashes heavy against her cheeks, breath uneven in soft, irregular pulls that didn’t match the steadiness of the room around her. The jacket he had placed on her earlier still clung to her shoulders, damp edges slowly drying into fabric that no longer felt like rain and more like evidence.Cassian stood near the window for a long moment without moving.Not watching her directly.Watching the city instead.As if distance could organize thoughts that refused to stay still.Behind him, Renzo closed the door with contro

The meeting ended the way most things did in Cassian Wycliffe Reynolds’ world, clean signatures, softer tones, words that pretended they weren’t transactions. He left the glass-walled building beside Renzo without looking back, collar slightly loosened, thoughts already detaching from the conversation before the doors had even finished closing behind them.Renzo walked half a step behind, as always, a quiet shadow with opinions he rarely spoke unless something was already wrong.“Board members are circling again,” Renzo said, adjusting his cuff. “Lucian’s recent incident has made them restless.”Cassian didn’t respond immediately. The city air outside the building felt heavier than it should have, like weather was preparing to become something inconvenient.“Lucian is always an incident,” Cassian replied finally.“That one is trending louder than usual,” Renzo added.Cassian gave a short hum that didn’t confirm or deny anything. His attention was already drifting elsewhere, not out of

The building looked expensive in the way expensive places often tried not to look expensive. No gold lettering. No dramatic entrance. Just clean glass, warm lights, and people dressed well enough to make you conscious of your own sleeves. Kyrie stood outside for a moment with her hands tucked into her coat pockets. Last night she had imagined this place differently. Not grand. Just hopeful. Somewhere ordinary. Somewhere nobody knew her face.She adjusted the strap of her bag and walked in. The lobby welcomed people the same way luxury brands did. Quietly. As if raising your voice was for people who still had things to prove.She approached reception. “Hi. I’m here for the receptionist interview.” The woman behind the desk smiled politely and checked her screen. “Yes. Please have a seat. Someone will come for you shortly.” Kyrie nodded and sat. The waiting area was too comfortable. Chairs soft enough to make waiting feel intentional. There were magazines she didn’t touch a

Kyrie didn’t sleep the way normal people slept anymore. She existed in something between rest and replay, where her mind kept reopening moments she didn’t want to visit. Somewhere in that blur, morning arrived anyway, like the city had no respect for exhaustion. Mandy was already in the kitchen when Kyrie woke, loud in a way that tried too hard to be normal. A kettle screamed, cupboards opened too aggressively, and Jules’ voice floated from somewhere near the couch where he had clearly decided furniture was optional for sleep. “Morning, trending celebrity,” Jules said without looking up from his phone. Kyrie pulled a pillow over her face. “If you say trending one more time I’m moving back to silence.” Mandy laughed. “Silence doesn’t pay rent, babe.” That got her sitting up.It always did. The room smelled like instant coffee and leftover chaos. Kyrie rubbed her eyes, already sensing something in the air that didn’t belong to peace. Jules held up his phone. “No reporters outs

The apartment felt quieter than usual, like even the walls were avoiding eye contact.Kyrie sat on the edge of the couch with her new phone resting in her palm, staring at it like it might suddenly explain her life to her. Mandy had left early for work, Jules had followed not long after, leaving behind instructions, warnings, and a half-finished cup of coffee that had gone cold in protest. The television was on but ignored. Some morning show host laughed too loudly about things that didn’t matter to her anymore. The sound filled the room but never reached her properly. Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.No job.No Vellum.No clear direction. Only messages she didn’t ask for and a name the internet wouldn’t stop repeating alongside her own. Kyrie. Like it belonged to someone else now.She stood slowly and walked toward the small corner of the apartment she had quietly claimed over the past days. A chair and a table. A canvas leaning against the wall like it was waiting for