Spell Calm Novels & Stories

Nyx Torelio thought she had left her small Sicilian town behind to chase her dream of becoming a photographer in Milan. But when her mother dies, she’s forced to return home and take over the family restaurant, only to find her stepfather, Gus, isn’t who she expected. Calm, kind, and protective, he stirs feelings in Nyx she can’t ignore but their growing attraction is dangerous and complicated.When a man from her past reappears and deadly secrets about her father and Gus’ hidden life come to light, Nyx is drawn into a world of lies, mafia violence, and betrayal. She must navigate love, trust, and survival while deciding who to believe and who to fight.

I logged into my girlfriend's account to sell her DSLR camera on a secondhand marketplace. The transaction went through fine. The next morning, the messages started showing up, and they were nothing I was ever meant to see. "Great shots this time. What's the rate for the outfit in the middle?" That’s when it hit me–the camera's memory card had not been wiped. However, the photos inside… were nothing I had ever seen before. Revealing shots. Intimate poses. Not meant for me. I forced myself to stay calm and tried to explain the situation to the buyer. His reply stopped me cold. "Drop the act. It’s not like this is the first time I've bought from you."

I gave birth to five children for Chris, but four of them died young. At first, I thought they were just tragic accidents. Then one day, I brought Chris lunch and overheard him talking to his assistant by chance. “Finally, this baby’s bone marrow is a match for Lily’s. If it wasn’t, I’d have to kill him too!" That was when everything became clear to me. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I stayed calm, acting like everything was normal. But on the day his company went public, I exposed him in front of everyone, revealing that he had killed our four children. That day, the once-proud CEO, Chris Quinn, dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably and apologizing to me.

She thought the divorce was successful, packed her bags, and left carefreely, but who knew he'd come knocking on the door in no time. The first time, he appeared calm and said, "Darling, the baby is hungry!" The second time, he shamelessly said, "Darling, I'm hungry too!" The third time, he directly pounced and said, "Darling, it's so cold, let's get moving!" Her ex-husband's persistent pursuit of love left her powerless to resist, and each step was a shock to her emotions. "We are divorced already!" She finally couldn't bear it anymore. He resolutely handed over a small child and said, "Here, one is not enough, add two more babies!"

Burned alive and abandoned, Sheraphina died believing she had nothing left. Then she woke up at fifteen. With her memories intact and her enemies still smiling, Sheraphina chooses silence over screams and patience over pity. Her stepsister—sweet, fragile, adored—has no memory of the fire yet, only a growing hunger for everything Sheraphina owns. Her father still turns a blind eye. Her stepmother still whispers poison into willing ears. This time, Sheraphina won’t fight openly. She will take back her name, her inheritance, and her future—piece by piece. And when a powerful billionaire steps into her path, drawn by her calm defiance and hidden sharpness, Sheraphina learns that revenge doesn’t have to be lonely.

Rivergate's most elite social circle had always shared an unspoken rule. Men were free to play the field as they pleased, drifting from one woman to the next. Women, on the other hand, were only allowed a single, discreet indulgence on the day they came of age—a privately hired "life assistant" meant to take care of their physical needs. … On my coming-of-age day, I picked Elliot at first glance from a hundred applicants who came in for interviews. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looked composed and restrained, and carried himself with a calm maturity that set him apart. He was steady, meticulous, and obsessively clean. The only condition he agreed to was that there would be no bodily contact—hands only. And after every encounter, he would scrub his hands with disinfectant alcohol a hundred times. Over five years, the empty bottles alone were enough to circle the villa seven times. I used to think that one day, I'd help him overcome his barriers and truly make him mine. That illusion shattered the night I got drunk and accidentally wandered into Elliot's room. Hidden beneath his pillow was a DV camera, and inside were several videos of him pleasuring himself. On the screen, the same man who had always been calm and rational with me was staring at the lingerie of the adopted sister who had caused my mother's death, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned her name, "Chloe… I love you…" Only then did I realize that every step he had taken toward me had never been about me at all. It had always been a carefully concealed, long-nurtured love for her. So, it was very odd that he cried when I took my adopted sister's place in marrying someone else.

Ember never meant to make a king. She was just trying to survive her heat without embarrassing herself in front of the massive, infuriatingly calm wolf living in the loft next door. Ember has spent most of her life keeping people at a distance. She’s stubborn, private, and perfectly happy suffering through things alone—including the inconvenient attraction she’s been pretending not to feel toward Ghost. Ghost notices everything. He notices when Ember skips meals. When she hasn’t slept. When she’s pretending she doesn’t need help. Calm, steady, and impossible to shake, he’s the kind of man who doesn’t push—but also doesn’t leave. Which becomes a problem when a violent storm destroys half of Ember’s apartment and Ghost is the one who drags her out of the wreckage. Suddenly the fiercely independent she-wolf who hates relying on anyone is stuck living next door to the one man she’s been trying not to want. Then Ember’s heat hits. What starts as proximity and stubborn attraction turns into something neither of them expected when their bond snaps fully into place—awakening a long-buried bloodline Ember never knew she carried. For generations, wolves like her were known as Kingmakers—rare mates capable of exposing corruption and keeping pack leadership honest. Twenty years ago, someone tried to wipe them out. Now Ember’s power has awakened. And the quiet city she and Ghost call home—long governed by careful politics instead of true pack leadership—is about to change. Because Ghost never wanted to be an Alpha. But Ember’s bloodline has a habit of exposing exactly the kind of wolf who should be. And Ember might have just made a king.

Dark Mafia Scene “Who laid a hand on you? Dallion's voice was low, cold, and dangerous. His dark gaze bore into her, daring her to stay silent. When she didn’t respond, the tension snapped like a whip, his voice booming through the room, “Who?” The butler, standing rigid against the wall, swallowed hard before stammering out the words, “It... it was Mr. Rivers, sir.” The atmosphere turned deadly as Dallion's jaw clenched, fury igniting in his eyes. “Bring him to me.” The butler’s eyes widened in fear. “N-now, sir? It’s... it’s late.” Dallion's hand, once braced against the wall near her head, slowly curled into a fist. His eyes never left her face, his possessiveness was palpable. Without looking at the butler, his voice dropped to a lethal calm, “Do you need a better time? Or shall I break your legs to teach you urgency?” The butler didn’t need any more encouragement. He fled the room, returning twenty minutes later with a trembling Mr. Rivers. “Dallion, my friend, what’s all this about?” Rivers began, his voice casual as if nothing was amiss. But Dallion wasn't’t here for pleasantries. His eyes slid to the knife stabbed into the apple on the table, and in one fluid motion, he yanked it free, the blade glinting in the dim light. Without a word, Dallion grabbed Rivers outstretched hand, slamming it onto the table. The sharp scream that followed echoed in the room as Dallion, with one swift movement, sliced through the man’s fingers. Blood splattered across the polished wood as Rivers screamed in agony, clutching his mutilated hand. “No one touches what belongs to me,” Dallion's voice was eerily calm, his expression devoid of any sympathy.

Samantha's world crumbled when she found out that her boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend. She was mad about their betrayal, so she broke up with him, but she wouldn't let their infidelity go unpunished. Because of her anger and sadness, she ended up spending a steamy night with a hot stranger. That stranger was none other than Diego Presley, the uncle of her ex-boyfriend. An evil idea came to her mind. She made a deal with Diego, blackmailing him to marry her. She wanted to hit three birds with one stone. She could seek revenge on her unfaithful boyfriend, calm her family, and also have a handsome husband. It was a playful seduction, and she didn't expect to fall in love with someone who couldn't love her back.

While we were eating, Tristan Shaw suddenly set down his fork and looked at me. “Who is Fatcat Cook?” The fork in my hand froze midair. My heart skipped a beat. Fatcat Cook. That name was someone Lena Moore and I made up on a drunken night. We had agreed that if anything ever went wrong and we couldn’t reach each other, we would use “Fatcat Cook” as a code. No one else knew that name existed. Only the two of us. And Lena had been missing for a full month. She said she was going to Valoria for a trip. Then she never came back. I looked at Tristan’s calm, almost indifferent face, and felt my heart sink. How did he know that name?