Novels by De Scripter

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

The next morning came quietly, almost deceptively so. The long dining table inside the Blackwood mansion was already filled, polished wood reflecting the pale winter light filtering through tall windows. Steam rose from untouched cups of coffee. Plates sat full, food growing cold. Barry and Michael’s seats were empty. Jace leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, irritation written plainly across his face. “Unbelievable.” He muttered. “They really picked today of all days to sleep in? We’re in enemy territory, not a vacation lodge.” No one laughed. Celia kept glancing toward the doors, unease settling deeper with every passing second. “They would’ve told us if they were leaving early.” She said, more to herself than anyone else. “Something’s not right.” Jace scoffed. “Or they’re just too comfortable. Ever since Michael started winning nonstop, he’s been-” “That’s enough.” Mira cut in coolly, though her gaze was fixed on the far end of the room. Adrian Blackwood sat the

Michael’s fingers dug into the fractured marble. The pain was everywhere, his ribs were screaming, his shoulder was burning, his lungs barely pulling in air, but beneath it, something else stirred. The memory of Celia’s voice didn’t fade, it anchored him. Mountain’s shadow loomed over him, massive a d final. The giant flexed his hand once, knuckles cracking, already certain this was over. But Michael laughed. It was low at first, rough, dragged out of his chest like broken glass. Then it steadied. That sound alone made Mountain pause. Adrian straightened on the balcony. “Oh?” Michael planted one knee, then the other. His movements were slow, deliberate, not rushed, not desperate. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand and looked up at Mountain, eyes sharp now, burning with focus rather than rage. “I told you…” He said hoarsely, “Losing isn’t an option.” Mountain frowned. He charged. This time, Michael didn’t meet him head-on. Mountain’s fist tore through the

Their eyes moved at the same time, drawn toward the far end of the main room. A hooded figure stood beneath the towering shadows of the chandelier, half-hidden between marble pillars and expensive drapery. The silence that followed felt heavy. Adrian’s lips curved upward. “Ah,” He said lazily, clapping once. “There he is.” The hooded figure stepped forward. Each step echoed through the vast room, boots striking the polished marble with slow certainty. When he reached the center, he raised both hands and pulled back the hood. Michael’s stomach dropped. The man was massive. Not just tall, but wide, his shoulders broad enough to block out parts of the chandelier’s glow. Thick scars ran across his face and neck, some old and faded, others still angry and raised. His eyes were dull, empty of emotion, like he had already decided how this would end. Adrian’s voice rang out, delighted. “Michael. Barry. Allow me to introduce you properly.” He gestured grandly. “This is Mountain.” Mou

Michael and Barry recognized the man immediately. He was the same brute Michael had defeated months ago, the one whose reign over the underground pit had ended with blood on the floor and Michael standing victorious. Back then, the man had sworn through broken teeth that he would remember Michael’s face. Now he was here. Barry let out a short, incredulous laugh. “It’s you.” He said, rolling his shoulders as he raised his fists. “Back for more?” The man’s eyes burned with hatred. He didn’t answer. He charged. There was no warning or buildup, just raw momentum as the massive body surged forward like a freight train. Michael reacted instantly. “Move!” He shouted. Both of them split apart at the same time. The man thundered between them and slammed straight into a wine shelf. Glass exploded outward, bottles shattering as red liquid splashed across the marble floor like spilled blood. Adrian clapped his hands together, laughter echoing through the vast hall. “Woah! What a start!” H

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, keeping his voice level despite the sudden tension in the air. Adrian maintained his easy smile. “Oh, come on,” He said lightly. “With the way you spoke earlier… I think you’re way too smart to be confused by my question.” His smile faded inch by inch, leaving behind a cold glare. “Why are you here?” Michael swallowed. He forced his shoulders to relax, “Well, I couldn’t help myself. Knowing that the great Blackwood chandelier was right around the corner from where I was staying… I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to see it with my own eyes.” Adrian chuckled, low and amused. “You see, I almost believed you.” Before Michael could respond, Adrian snapped his fingers. The sound echoed sharply through the vast room. Two guards emerged from the shadows, dragging someone between them. The figure was thrown forward and hit the marble floor hard. Michael’s heart lurched. “Barry.” He breathed. Barry coughed, lifting his head with effort. There was a

The family they were visiting was called the Blackwoods. They were an ancient, closed-off family with vast wealth, but not as vast as the Scofields’. The Blackwoods knew the Scofields. For a moment, Michael wished he could use his title as the Scofield heir to his advantage, that would have been so easy. But he pushed the thought aside. He had to survive on his own before acquiring his position as head of the empire. The Blackwoods had a son around Michael’s age too. That was who he was meeting with, along with other members of the family, because the head Blackwood was out of the country. The limo rolled into the property and the group stepped out. The first thing Michael noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that pressed down on you, as though the land itself was listening. The Blackwood estate was enormous, built of dark stone and iron, with towering walls that looked centuries old. Snow clung to the edges of gargoyles and statues carved in the likenes