Novels by De Scripter

The next few days at the estate felt strange and slow. Michael moved through the halls like a visitor in his own home, stopping often to ask questions about things that should have been familiar to him. He would simply turn to whoever was closest and ask, “What’s this?” or “When did that happen?” He asked about people, about battles, about arguments he had supposedly won and decisions he had supposedly made. One afternoon, he ran into Mikel Braken near the east wing and asked Barry how come he was now working at the estate. Barry calmly explained everything from the tunnels to Mikel’s little display of bravado to Michael putting him in his place, “He's been well-behaved since…” Michael nodded, “Good to know.” After several medical tests at the estate, long conversations filled with patience, and even hours spent alone in his study, flipping through journals and reports, it became clear that nothing around him was triggering a proper recovery. He tried reading battle summaries, l

Michael rubbed his forehead as his father’s voice continued through the monitor. “I’ve already contacted Isaac.” Gerald said calmly, “If there’s no improvement in your condition within the next few days, we’ll arrange transport to Aurora City. Their medical division is far better equipped than what you currently have.” Michael frowned slightly, “Transport? I’m not dying, Father.” “No.” Gerald replied firmly, “But you are vulnerable, and vulnerability is something you cannot afford right now.” Michael exhaled slowly. “So I’m a liability?” “You’re my son.” Gerald corrected. “And you’re the cornerstone of this family whether you remember it or not.” Silence hung between them for a moment. “Rest.” Gerald added, “Regain your strength. We’ll handle everything else.” Michael nodded faintly. “Alright.” Gerald’s expression softened just a little, “We’ll speak again soon.” The screen went black. Michael let out a long breath and slowly turned to Adrian. “Adrian… Is it?” Adrian blin

Michael’s eyes struggled to open. His body felt heavy, like something was pressing him down from the inside. He tossed and turned in the large bed, sheets tangling around his legs. A faint ringing filled his ears, then with a sudden jolt, he shot upright. “I’m late for graduation!” He croaked, his throat tight and dry. The words echoed in the quiet room. He blinked rapidly and looked around, the ceiling was too high, the walls were too elegant and the furniture was far too expensive for a student dorm. “This is my room…” He muttered slowly, “At the estate? Why am I here?” The door opened softly. Celia stepped inside with careful steps, like she was afraid to disturb him. The moment she saw him sitting up, her entire body froze. “M-Michael?” He looked at her, confusion spreading across his face. “You’re… Celia?” His eyes darkened, suspicion settling in almost immediately, “Why are you here at my family estate?” “Huh…?” She took a small step back. “Michael?” The way he looked at

“Congratulations on being cancer-free!” The cheer filled the medical wing, echoing against the walls that had seen far too much pain over the past year. A cake sat in front of Monica, slightly uneven but clearly made with care. Someone had even managed to pipe shaky pink letters across the top, the candles flickered gently as everyone around her smiled in relief. Monica brushed her hair back, her eyes shining. For a moment, the war didn’t exist, the constant tension, the strategies, the losses… All of it faded behind the simple fact that she had survived. Richard would’ve loved this. He had waited for this day, sat beside her through appointments back then at Snow City, made dumb jokes about hospital food and had to arrange a home treatment for her, promised her that when she beat it, they would celebrate properly. The memory stung, but it also warmed her. Moments like this reminded them all that they were human before anything else. Adrian clapped his hands once, loud enough t

Michael barely had time to react before the second explosion ripped through the remains of the faculty building. The ground shook violently, and debris rained down like burning hail. Barry felt the shockwave hit his back, but before it could knock them over, Michael had already grabbed him by the collar and dragged him further away. He didn’t stop there, he hauled the two unconscious guards with him, shielding them with his own body as flames burst outward behind them. They hit the pavement hard, rolling across gravel and ash. A blast of heat rushed over them, so intense it felt like standing in front of an open furnace. When the rumbling finally died down, what remained of the chemical technology faculty was nothing but collapsing beams and roaring fire. “Damn…” Barry cursed under his breath, staring at the inferno. He turned to Michael, who was still kneeling, breathing heavily. “Do you think he made it?” Michael shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the burning wreckage. “I do

Adrian helped Barry to his feet, steadying him when his knees almost gave out. “Alright.” Barry began, breathing through the pain in his ribs, “Even though part of you isn’t back yet, I’m still gonna bet on you.” Adrian tilted his head slightly, studying him like he was trying to understand why anyone would take that risk. Barry continued, his voice firm despite everything, “The plan is to keep you away from Killian. I’ll go to Michael and see how he’s doing, and you… I’m counting on you to end the crossfire. Max is out there, he’ll help.” Adrian nodded slowly. “As long as our guys don’t start shooting at me.” “We gave orders not to hurt you. You’re the commander, after all.” “Aww, I feel special.” “Shut up and move it. We’ll meet up after, go.” They split without another word. Adrian headed toward the eastern gate where flashes of gunfire still lit up the night, while Barry staggered toward the heavier sounds of destruction. The air was thick with smoke and dust, the ground

Alex swirled the champagne in his glass and smiled at the couple before him—so dazzled, so unaware.“I’d love to meet your son,” Alex said warmly. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”Charlotte Walts—elegant, graceful, and far too eager—clasped her hands with delight. “You’re such a remarkable young man, Alex. If you could mentor him… oh, what a blessing that would be.”Alex grinned. “I’ll try my best. It’s only fair we help each other, isn’t it?”The way they laughed, as if they had known each other for years, amused Alex to no end. Moments ago, they had tried to judge him. Now they wanted their son to become like him.Mr. Walts, quiet and brooding beside his overly eager wife, finally spoke. “Forgive me, but you never mentioned—who are your parents again?”The smile on Alex’s face tightened slightly. He turned to face the man directly, holding his gaze with sharp amusement gleaming in his eyes.There was something about that look—quiet, commanding, dangerous—that made Mr. Walts shi

The chancellor’s residence was aglow with opulence. Hidden beneath the pretense of celebration, the party was less about champagne and music and more about silent power plays and whispered alliances. As Dustin had warned, this wasn’t just a party—it was a decoy. A gathering of power brokers masked as a social event. Politics in pearls. Deals in tuxedos.Alex stood by the grand entrance, eyes scanning the crowd. Dressed in a deep navy three-piece suit tailored to perfection, he looked nothing like the boy who woke up that morning being called “Errand Boy.” His hair was slicked back, his posture confident, and his aura undeniable. He wasn’t just attending this event. He was owning it.He tugged slightly at his lapel and exhaled.This morning, he was invisible.This afternoon, he was humiliated.By night, he was a multimillionaire, the largest shareholder of one of the most powerful banks in the city, and the proud owner of a suit most people in this room couldn’t afford without selling

The city’s air tasted different when Alex stepped out of the bank—sweeter, fresher, laced with a buzz that only the wealthy understood. He wasn't just some broke, errand-running clown anymore. He was now the secret owner of Heritage Finance Bank, and with $10 million resting quietly in his account, the world suddenly looked like his playground.Still, despite the triumph swelling in his chest, his heart was not without its tremors. Uncle Tony’s cryptic remarks had shaken something loose inside him. And Sandra’s quiet warning had left him a little unsettled. Something was brewing. And then, there was Gwen.The thought of her made him grin. Gwen, with her sharp tongue, soft curls, and mysterious allure—she was nothing like Emily. Emily may have dropped him like trash that morning, but now, a girl far more beautiful and influential wanted to go on a date with him. And even more intriguing, Gwen might hold keys to the secrets surrounding his parents’ deaths.But first things first: he nee

Down at the reception, Sandra was a woman on a mission. She had just returned from the restroom, where she'd caked on a fresh layer of makeup—foundation, highlighter, and a lipstick so glossy it could blind an unsuspecting victim. She’d adjusted her dress higher and tighter, the neckline a little lower now, the curves more pronounced. Every step she took was a calculated swing of hips.She positioned herself right by the elevator, her perfume cloud thick enough to announce her presence before her words ever could. A few colleagues threw her mocking glances. One of them, Babara, rolled her eyes and muttered just loud enough, “And the parade begins.”Sandra scoffed, tossing her freshly ironed curls. “Y’all can hate all you want. But I wasn’t born to suffer,” she said, popping her gum as she spoke. “I’m too fine to be struggling. I don’t want to work hard—I want to be spoiled. Period.”The girls behind the counter burst into quiet laughter. “And what now? You want to trap another man l

Alex sat stiffly in the massive executive chair, the black leather cushioning swallowing his wiry frame. The contrast between the opulence of the room and his comical clown costume made him feel like a misplaced joke in a billionaire’s office. Still, he sat up straight, eyes locked on the man across the sleek mahogany desk—the President of Heritage Finance Bank, Mr. Godwin Taylor.A soft knock came on the door. Gwen stepped in, heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. She carried a crystal flute filled with a golden, bubbling liquid.“Dom Pérignon,” she said with a charming smile as she handed the glass to Alex. “The most expensive champagne in the building.”“Thank you,” Alex said, his voice unsure. Her fingers lingered slightly as she passed him the drink, and when their eyes met, she smiled again—this time, slower, deeper, as if she could see something beneath the clown paint.Taylor cleared his throat. “Thank you, Gwen. You may excuse us.”She nodded and exited, leaving

There were gasps all over as Sandra fell.After a second, just as she was scrambling to get up, they all burst into laughter. It was such an embarrassing situation for her and extremely funny to those watching.“What, Sandra, did you see a ghost on the computer?” Someone jabbed.Everyone laughed harder.Alex remained composed as he watched everything unfold—even though he too wanted to laugh.Of course it was funny to him. He knew what had just happened:Sandra had just confirmed exactly how much he was worth and realized she was in hot water.He watched silently as she finally got up, tried to straighten the embarrassment out of her attire, and then moved towards her computer with shame and defeat etched very visibly on her face.Sandra's heart was beating fast; she couldn't hear herself think.God, what have I done?She tried to keep her raging thoughts out of her expression as she refreshed the computer again, but Alex could see that she was trembling slightly.Sandra prayed that s