Novels by wrdlgraham

After Webb left, his men escorted Dominic to one of Thornfield’s most exclusive estates in the Westbrook Hills district. The villa was all marble and chandeliers, the kind of place he would have inherited if his life had gone differently. He barely noticed any of it.Webb returned within the hour, carrying a tablet. “My Lord, I have the information you requested on Lila Hart.”Dominic’s chest tightened at the name. Lila Hart. The woman his family had arranged for him to marry five years ago. The woman whose wedding night had been destroyed when her new husband was dragged away in handcuffs, accused of assaulting his stepmother. He’d carried guilt about her ever since, though he barely knew her—just a girl from a third-tier family the Kanes had deemed acceptable. After his imprisonment, he’d never seen her again. Making amends to her was one of his reasons for returning.“Tell me,” Dominic said quietly.Webb’s expression was grim. “After the scandal, her family expelled her. Called her

The blade was in Dominic’s hand before anyone saw him draw it. One clean motion, Marcus’s scream cut off mid-breath.The body collapsed.Silence crashed over the ballroom like a physical force.“NO!” Richard’s howl was animal, inhuman. “No—not my son—NOT MY SON!” He lunged forward, broken ribs forgotten, reaching for Marcus’s body.Webb’s boot caught him in the chest, slamming him back down.Dominic cleaned the blade on a white tablecloth, leaving a streak of crimson across the expensive fabric. “You want to talk about family now, Uncle?” His voice was eerily calm. “You want to invoke blood ties? Where was your sense of family when you murdered my mother? When you poisoned my father? When you broke my hands and sent me to rot in prison?”“That was—we didn’t—it wasn’t—” Richard couldn’t form a coherent sentence through his sobs.“If I spare you now,” Dominic continued, his voice rising, “who spared my parents? WHO?!” The shout echoed off crystal chandeliers. “Answer me, you piece of fi

Under Dominic’s cold interrogation, General Harrison began trembling uncontrollably.The icy, domineering aura he’d carried moments earlier—the authority that commanded sixty soldiers and made politicians nervous, collapsed in an instant. What replaced it was fear. Pure, bone-deep terror that seeped through his carefully maintained military bearing like water through cracked stone.How could it be him? The War God revered by millions?Harrison’s mouth opened. The title nearly escaped—War God, My Lord, Your Excellency—but the moment his eyes met Dominic’s cold gray stare, the words died in his throat.He understood immediately. Dominic didn’t need him to say it aloud. Didn’t want it announced to this room full of vultures and traitors.Harrison’s voice came out shaking, stripped of all authority. He bowed so low his forehead nearly touched his knees. “I apologize. Profoundly. For any… misunderstanding.” He straightened just enough to look past Dominic at Richard Kane, and his expressio

The screech of tires shattered the tense silence. Not just one vehicle, but a convoy.Through the ballroom's towering windows, guests watched in awe as military transport trucks rolled up to the entrance. Doors flew open in perfect synchronization. Boots hit pavement with thunderous precision. Then came, sixty soldiers in full combat uniforms marched through the entrance in formation—not hotel security, not private enforcers, but actual military personnel. Their rifles were slung across their backs, their movements were crisp, their faces were hard with professional authority. They moved like a machine made of flesh and steel, filling the ballroom with an overwhelming presence that made even the wealthiest guests shrink back instinctively.At their head strode a man who commanded attention like gravity commands orbits—General Victor Harrison.Two stars gleamed on his shoulders. His uniform was immaculate, every medal earned through decades of distinguished service. At fifty-eight, he

Richard Kane dragged himself upright, broken glass tinkling from his expensive suit. His hand fumbled for his phone, fingers trembling as they found a specific button. He pressed it.Within thirty seconds, the back entrance of the ballroom burst open.Forty men flooded through: professional thugs in black tactical gear, each carrying batons and moving with coordinated precision. These weren't hotel security or ordinary bodyguards. These were Richard's private enforcers, the kind of men who made problems disappear permanently.Richard's confidence surged back like air filling his lungs. He straightened, wiping blood from his split lip, and his expression transformed from fear to savage triumph."There you are," he breathed, then his voice rose to a shout. "You wanted to make a scene, Dominic? You wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone?" He gestured at the forty armed men now surrounding them. "You're going to die here tonight. Slowly, painfully. And I'm going to enjoy every second

No one answered. Everyone was too busy staring at the coffin.Richard's face had gone from pale to crimson. "Dominic! This is your last warning! Security—" He turned to his secretary, a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses who stood frozen near the wall. "Call Gregory! Tell him to get his men up here NOW!"The secretary fumbled for his phone with shaking hands, scrolling through contacts until he found "Gregory Holt - Security Chief." His finger hovered over the call button.He pressed it.From inside the coffin came a shrill, muffled ringtone.The secretary's phone clattered to the floor.Every person in that ballroom felt a wave of primal dread that started in their guts and spread through their nervous systems. Something was very, very wrong.Richard took a step backward. "What... what is..."Dominic walked to the coffin with leisurely confidence. He looked down at it for a moment, head tilted as if listening to the ringtone still echoing from within. Then he raised his boot and kicke