Novels by Joy Richards

The atmosphere inside the fencing club had not settled in the slightest.If anything, it had grown heavier.The echo of clashing blades still seemed to linger in the air, mixing with disbelief, resentment, and poorly concealed hostility. The spectators who had arrived expecting a one-sided spectacle now stood caught between confusion and indignation, many of them unwilling to accept what they had just witnessed.Terence Lin however, broke the silence first.He slowly straightened his posture, adjusted his fencing jacket, and exhaled through his nose as if grounding himself. His earlier shock was gone now, replaced by a familiar cold composure. The kind that came from a lifetime of privilege and control.“I suppose,” Terence said calmly, his voice carrying across the venue, “there’s no need to dwell on the details anymore.”Several people leaned in, eager for his next words.Terence turned his head slightly, his gaze landing on Iris Reed. His eyes were sharp, evaluating, detached.“To

“I’ll get it.”Elise stood where she was, her gaze fixed on the entrance as the door handle turned. Who could that possibly be? she thought.The door opened.And it was Ryan who stood outside.For a brief moment, the air in the living room seemed to freeze.Ryan wore a relaxed smile, one hand tucked casually into his pocket, the other lifting slightly in a polite gesture. His clothes were unmistakably expensive and under the warm lights of the modest house, he looked out of place, like someone who had wandered in from a different world.Elise’s father was the first to react.His expression shifted almost instantly, surprise giving way to excitement. He straightened his back, smoothing the front of his shirt as if Ryan were some visiting dignitary rather than a young man standing at his doorstep.“You must be…?” Elise’s father began, already halfway into a welcoming smile.Ryan inclined his head politely. “Ryan,” he said. “Ryan Lawson.”Those two words landed with weight.Elise’s mothe

Elise sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Across from her, her parents stood shoulder to shoulder like a united front.Elise’s mother was the first to speak, her tone sharp with disappointment.“We both saw it,” she said flatly. “With our own eyes.”Her father nodded, arms crossed. “There was hardly any attempt to hide it either.”Elise lifted her head slowly. “Saw what?”Her mother let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Don’t play dumb, Elise. Your so called Benjamin. He left together with that woman. Iris Reed.”The name landed heavily in the room.Elise’s fingers tightened unconsciously.Her father stepped forward a half step, voice stern. “She had the effrontery to step foot in my house and that Benjamin—both of them acting like a couple!”“That doesn’t mean anything,” Elise said quickly, though her voice lacked its earlier firmness.Her mother’s expression hardened. “Doesn’t mean anything? Elise, don’t insult our intelligence.”“He could have b

“I was careless,” Terence said coolly. “I clearly underestimated you.”The words rang across the fencing club, crisp and deliberate, as if he had rehearsed them in advance. Benjamin did not respond immediately. He merely adjusted his grip slightly, the movement smooth and unhurried. He carefully watched Terence, as if waiting to see what excuse would come next.Terence then straightened his posture, slid his sword back into its sheath, and turned slightly toward the audience. His expression however was calm, almost generous, the kind one wore after granting mercy rather than suffering defeat.The female manager hesitated near the edge of the stage, clearly unsure whether the match had truly ended or if another round was still expected. But before she could say anything, Terence spoke again.“Regardless of the circumstances,” he continued, voice measured, “a loss is a loss. I won’t deny the result of the first two rounds.”A murmur rippled through the crowd.Some people nodded immedia

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Terence thought.Not like this.The sword that had once felt like an extension of his arm lay discarded on the ground… again. Its polished surface reflecting the overhead lights in a way that felt almost mocking.Terence slowly lifted his head, his gaze locking onto Benjamin for the first time with something other than disdain or amusement. What stared back at him now was disbelief, raw and unfiltered.He could tell.That was what unsettled him the most.From the very first exchange, Terence had known Benjamin was a novice. It wasn’t just the way he held the blade at the start, or the stiff, unfamiliar posture that betrayed a lack of formal training. It was the small things. The hesitation before the first engagement. The way Benjamin’s footwork had initially been slightly off, his movements guided more by instinct than technique.Terence had seen countless beginners before.And Benjamin had been one of them.But yet—Two rounds.Only two.In that absur

For a brief moment, no one moved.The fencing sword lay on the polished floor, its metallic surface catching the overhead lights as it slowly spun to a stop. The sound it had made echoed in everyone’s ears long after it had faded, as if the room itself had been struck silent by the impact.Then the realization began to settle in.Benjamin had won.Not a single person in the audience spoke at first. The cheering that had once filled the club vanished entirely, replaced by a suffocating quiet that pressed down on the spectators like a physical weight. Faces that had moments ago been twisted in mockery now froze mid-expression, eyes widening as minds struggled to reconcile what they had just seen.Terence Lin had lost the first round.Iris stood rigid, her fingers gripping the edge of her coat so tightly that her knuckles turned white. For a split second, she wondered if she had imagined it, if her fear and hope had blurred together into something unreal.But the sword on the floor was r