Novels by De Scripter

Morgan residence. Monica dotted on the flowers so much even though they weren't hers, she had placed them in a vase hours ago but still kept walking over from time to time to adjust it. She couldn’t tell if it was pregnancy hormones or just second-hand happiness. Adrian noticed it without even trying to. He leaned forward and placed a cup of warm chocolate on the table in front of her. “You sure are into those flowers.” Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked away. “Well, yeah. They're really beautiful.” Adrian gave a soft smile and leaned back on the couch. “Just tell me if you want flowers too, okay? I’ll get you a truck full of different ones. Hell, I’ll buy you a whole garden.” She let out a short laugh, “Stop it. You’re crazy.” The door opened before he could respond. Michael and Celia stepped inside, the shift in energy immediate. Celia looked a little tired, but she still smiled when she saw them. Adrian and Michael exchanged a quick nod, and without needing to say m

Celia shot up from her seat so quickly that the chair nearly tipped over. "Excuse me?" The reporter remained seated. He adjusted the cap on his head and offered a fake polite smile. "Calm down, Miss Morgan." He said, "I just want to know how it feels. Must be hard walking around with him knowing that the blood of lost lives are on his hands." Celia stared at him in disbelief before anger quickly took over. "Listen here, you!" Before she could say another word, more people began approaching. It was as though they had been waiting for a signal. Another reporter raised a microphone, "Does this not make you feel guilty?" "Aren't you scared you'll get hurt by people who lost their families?" Another asked. A third shoved a recorder closer, "Does Michael even feel bad about the Scofield War?" "How often does he talk about it?" "Didn't your father die because of him? Why are you still with him?" The questions came one after another, faster and sharper. They didn't wait for answers

A week passed, and little by little, Sunset City settled back into normal life. Construction crews had worked tirelessly to repair damaged roads and buildings. Businesses reopened, street vendors returned to their usual spots, children played outside again without their parents constantly glancing nervously toward the sky. To most people, it felt like peace had finally arrived. Michael knew better, peace had not arrived. This was merely the calm before the storm. Sooner or later, the UCA would make their move again. He was certain of it. People like Kenny didn't simply accept setbacks and walk away, they adapted. So Michael adapted too. During the past week, he had spent countless hours digging through files, financial records, leaked reports, and private communications. He searched for dirt on every UCA member he could find, just as he had done with Cobe Marshall. Some had hidden affairs, some had shady business dealings, others had histories they had worked very hard to bury.

Cobe's heartbeat could practically be heard without any medical equipment if someone listened closely enough. It pounded violently inside his chest after what Michael had said. Broadcasting that video to the entire country? That would destroy him, he would rather lose eighty percent of his wealth in private and attempt to rebuild his life than suffer that kind of public humiliation. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet Michael's cold gaze. "Please don't do this..." Michael shrugged casually. "I'm not the one doing something here, this is entirely your decision." He held up two fingers, "You have two options. Let your wife find out quietly, or let the public find out first and your wife eventually discovers it anyway." He lowered one finger. "You're f*cked either way. One option is simply the lesser evil." "I don't want any of that!" Cobe cried, tears gathering in his eyes. "Please! There has to be another way!" Mira scoffed loudly. "Well boo-hoo, asshole." She folded her arms and

The room immediately fell silent and all eyes turned toward the chained man. Cobe groaned, his head hung low for several seconds before he slowly lifted it. The moment his vision cleared, his eyes widened. Michael Scofield and Mira Scofield… The realization hit him instantly and panic followed immediately after. Barry stepped forward and peeled the tape from his mouth. “Hello there, Mr. Marshall. Had a nice nap?” “Still feeling drunk?” Michael asked calmly with a smile appearing on his face, “I can help sober you up.” He nodded toward Mira. She had already been waiting, the irritation from earlier still lingered beneath her skin. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled a taser from her pocket. “Bite down.” She warned. Before Cobe could react, she pressed the taser against his neck and pulled the trigger. The scream that followed right after was deafening. Mira groaned as she stepped back and covered her ears, "I said bite down." Before Cobe could react, she smacke

The following morning, Michael sat in his study with a file resting on the desk between him and Barry. Mira leaned casually against a nearby wall while Barry flipped through the documents. For a moment, it felt strangely similar to their old totem-hunting days. Barry stopped turning pages, his eyes widened slightly. “This is Cobe Marshall, owner of the prison island.” He looked up, “Are we going after him first?” “Yup.” Michael replied casually. Barry nodded slowly, “Do you want me to dig up some dirt on him?” “Nope.” Michael smiled and shook his head, “I don't plan on dealing with him the way I plan to deal with the rest.” Barry's eyebrows twitched. “Well... How do you plan on dealing with him?” Michael leaned back in his chair, the smile never leaving his face. “I'm allowed to be petty just this once, right...?” Mira's eyes widened in excitement. She knew exactly where this was going, and she loved every bit of it. Barry slowly closed the file and stared at Michael, “Don't

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