Novels by Joe

The Armstrong household runs on information. Everyone watching. Everyone reporting. It's how powerful families maintain control.Mr. Ken's face is stern as Marcus helps Mabel from the car. The motorcycle helmet dangles from Marcus's hand. His other arm supports Mabel's weight even though she doesn't really need it. It's simply instinct. Marcus sees Mr. Ken and immediately bows. Respectful. His training in proper etiquette showing through despite the circumstances."Mr. Armstrong." His voice doesn't waver. "I'm Marcus Jade. I want to marry your daughter. With or without my family approval. I love her and I won't abandon her or our child."The boldness of the statement surprises everyone. Even John's eyebrows raise slightly.This kid has spine. More than John gave him credit for.Mr. Ken studies Marcus for a long moment. His expression is unreadable. Reading the young man. Measuring him. Looking for deception or opportunism or weakness.What he finds must satisfy him because he gesture

He sniggered, shaking his head slowly.“Don’t tell me that you think that I could possibly kill you with a glass of water…” He stared with a wry smile and even though Clifford said nothing, it was very obvious that several thoughts were running through his mind.Stephen scoffed, drawing his attention at once.“Well…” He cleared his throat, still holding onto his wry smile.“If I were in your shoes, I would also have the same thoughts going on inside my head. You were a very mean boss, and no one deserves the kind of things you did to me…”Clifford bent his face to the ground again, covered by guilt and nervousness. His blood was suddenly beginning to flow faster than before, and his heart beating like racing horses.“Go ahead and drink the water. I don’t have any reason to kill you, at least not yet…” Stephen said with a frown, and even though Clifford was still full of doubt, it suddenly felt like his fate depended on the water.He looked at the water inside the glass like he was

The park is quiet in the afternoon light.Yesterday's rain left everything damp. Mabel sits on a bench under a gazebo, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles are white. She's wearing a loose sweater despite the mild temperature. Hiding. Protecting.Ariel and John wait in the car parked probably like fifty meters away. Close enough to intervene if needed. Far enough to give privacy.John watches through the windshield. His posture is relaxed but his eyes miss nothing. Every detail catalogued. Every potential threat assessed.Ariel sits beside him, her hands gripping the steering wheel even though the engine is off. Nervous energy radiating from her."He'll understand," she says quietly. More to herself than John. "Marcus is a good man. He'll understand."John doesn't respond. He's learned that sometimes silence is better than false reassurance.The sound of a motorcycle cuts through the quiet. Both their heads turn toward the entrance.Marcus pulls in on a sleek blac

The Secret Unravels"Marcus."The name hangs in the air between them.John's expression doesn't change, but his mind immediately starts calculating. Marcus. That's Divo’s younger brother. Ariel watches his reaction carefully, worry evident in the way her hands twist together. "Marcus is different from Divo," she says quickly, as if defending him. "Gentler. Less ambitious version. He doesn't care about the family business the way Divo does.""How did they meet?""A charity function. Six months ago. Some fundraiser for children's hospitals." Ariel's voice softens. "Mabel said they talked all night. That he made her laugh in a way no one else had and that they started seeing each other in secret after that.""And Marcus doesn't know about the pregnancy?"Ariel shakes her head. "Mabel's been too frightened to tell him. She's worried his family will force her to terminate. Or worse, use the situation as leverage against us."John turns his attention back to the window. Rain continues to f

Three QuestionsMorning arrives grey and drizzling.Rain streaks down the mansion windows, distorting the view of the grounds below. The gardens look melted. Blurred.John sits in the library, surrounded by medical texts and old manuscripts. His laptop glows in the dim light. Coffee sits beside him, forgotten, growing cold.He's been awake since dawn. Searching. Digging through databases and archives. Looking for traces of his mother.Her maiden name appears in scattered references. Medical journals from twenty years ago. Conference attendee lists. Co-authored papers on rare herbal treatments that most practitioners have never heard of.Dr. Sarah. That's the name she published under.John scrolls through article after article. His mother collaborated with practitioners across Asia. Spoke at conferences in Beijing, Tokyo, Singapore. Built a reputation as someone who understood medicine in ways that bridged ancient wisdom and modern science.And then, around the time John was born, she

Traces from the pastJohn runs.His footsteps echo off brick walls, sharp in the narrow alley. Behind him, voices shout. Multiple people, getting closer.He doesn't look back. Looking back slows you down. Gets you caught. Killed.His instincts guide him through the maze of passages that wind through the old district. Left here. Right there. Under a fire escape. Past dumpsters that reek of rot. The streets twist and turn in ways that make no sense, but John trusts his feet to find the way.His hand closes around the pearl Kelvin gave him. The surface is smooth. Warm against his palm despite the cold night air. He grips it tighter, using it as an anchor. A reminder of why he's running.The alley opens suddenly onto a main street. Light. People. Not many at this hour, but enough.John slows immediately. Forces his breathing to steady. He walks with calm, trying to hide his growing panic. Just another person heading home late. Nothing to see here..Behind him, the voices fade. Either they