Novels by De Scripter

A week later, Michael's condition had improved significantly. His wounds had healed enough for the doctors to approve his discharge, and after spending that much time in the hospital, he was more than ready to leave. While Barry handled the paperwork, Michael gathered his belongings and prepared to go. He had just finished checking that he had not left anything behind when the door opened. Adrian stepped into the room. It was the first time Michael had seen him since the battle with Mira. Adrian seemed fine on the outside, at least. The compound had given his body an extra boost during recovery, helping him recover from his injuries faster than expected. "Adrian..." Michael called softly. Adrian looked at him and smiled. Michael knew about the complicated situation between Adrian and Mira. He couldn't deny that if Adrian had chosen to fight alongside her, he would have felt deeply betrayed. Still, he believed everyone had the right to make their own choices. That was why he h

"He's in a coma..." Barry responded in a low voice. "And he might not wake up." Michael slowly nodded. It was all he could manage in that moment. He lowered his eyes, trying to process the news with mixed emotions. Barry continued. "Even if he does wake up, he's likely to suffer from permanent memory loss." He looked away, his expression growing heavier as he struggled with the words. Michael watched him closely and noticed the guilt written all over his face. Barry was blaming himself, and it was clear that the thought had been eating away at him. "I did that to him..." Barry muttered, touching his bandaged eye. "I shouldn't have gone that far, but..." He sucked in a breath, unable to finish the sentence. His fingers lingered against the bandage as he remembered the fight, the punches he had thrown, and the damage he had inflicted. Michael didn't know what to say. He understood that Barry was hurting, but he also knew that no words could undo what had happened. Silence settled

Sunset City Hospital. A VIP room. Even before Michael opened his eyes, he could hear the television mounted on the wall. A presenter was reporting the latest news, her voice carrying through the quiet room as she announced the death of Mira Scofield. The report continued, discussing the final battle and the destruction left behind at the Scofield estate. Michael's eyelids slowly lifted. His vision was blurry at first, and he needed a few moments to understand where he was. He tried to move, but the pain throughout his body made him stop. Then he noticed someone sitting at the edge of his bed. It was his mother, Cristy. Her back was turned toward him as she watched the television. Her shoulders jerked up and down, and the quiet sound of her crying reached him. She hadn't noticed that he was awake. Michael watched her for a moment, his chest tightening as he realized how much pain she was carrying. He tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. A sharp ache spread throu

The explosion of purple energy levelled the entire courtyard. Pillars collapsed, the surrounding buildings cracked, and the already-destroyed structure shook violently under the force. Dust filled the air as pieces of stone and concrete rained down around the estate. When the light finally began to fade, the twins stood at opposite ends of the ruined courtyard, neither of them looking at the other. Michael stood with his shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to breathe. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, and his clothes were torn in several places. He stared at the ground, trying to steady himself, but even standing seemed to take more strength than he had left. "It shouldn't have come to this..." He murmured, swallowing painfully before adding, "It really shouldn't have." Mira remained silent for a moment. She looked down at herself, and her expression changed as she finally understood the extent of her injuries. A huge portion of her left side was gone, leaving

Michael flexed his hand, looking at it with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. He hadn't expected to break through Mira's crimson barrier, especially after losing access to two of his abilities. He curled his fingers into a fist and watched the blue energy flicker around them. "This kind of makes up it… Damn." He raised his head to look at Mira, who was still standing on the balcony. "You're right about me not having some of my abilities anymore." He called out, "But I'll have you know that I didn't lose them." Mira raised an eyebrow. "I had them blocked off on purpose." Michael finished. Mira stared at him for a moment before scoffing. She began walking along the balcony, keeping her eyes on him as she tried to make sense of his words. "So, what you're telling me is that you dumbed down your abilities on purpose, just so this would feel like a fair fight?" Michael shrugged, the smile on his face becoming more taunting. "Something like that." The answer struck a nerve. M

Michael and Mira’s exchange became destructive very quickly, especially with no one around to get in their way. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and before the dust had even settled, both twins were already moving again. Neither of them was willing to give the other a chance to take control of the fight. Michael pushed forward, throwing a punch toward Mira’s face. She leaned aside just enough to avoid it, then caught his arm with a burst of crimson energy and swung him toward the ground. He twisted in midair, landed on his feet, and drove himself forward again before she could follow up. Their fists met, and the impact sent another wave of force through the courtyard, cracking the stone beneath them. Mira slid backward, her shoes scraping against the ground. She raised one hand, and the stones around Michael began to shake. Several large pieces broke free from the courtyard, rising into the air under the force of her gravity. Michael glanced up as they gathered above him,

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