Novels by Godsent Writes

The two slaps still burned across Tristan's cheek, but it was the last sentence that truly broke him.Boyfriend.His voice came out rough and cracked. "You think this is funny?"The woman did not blink. "No. I think this is overdue."Tristan pointed at Desmond again. "That loser? Your boyfriend?"Desmond looked at him with calm contempt. "You should breathe before you faint."Nolan had completely lost his grin. Evan looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. Bryce was still struggling to understand the night.Tristan took a wild step forward. "Do not talk to me like that."The woman lifted one hand.That was all it took.Two security men in black suits appeared at the entrance of the upper lounge as if they had been waiting for a signal the whole time.Tristan froze.For the first time that night, something real entered his eyes. Fear.The woman did not raise her voice. "Remove him."The two guards moved at once."Get your hands off me," Tristan snapped, jerking backward. "Do

The booth stayed frozen.Tristan looked from the woman to Desmond and then back again as if his eyes had stopped working.That smile made no sense at all.In his head, Desmond was still the man people sneered at, not the man a woman like this would walk toward on purpose.So Tristan did what weak men always did when reality embarrassed them.He laughed.A short, ugly laugh.Then Nolan joined him. Evan followed a beat later. Even Bryce let out a rough chuckle, though he kept watching the woman.Tristan spread his hands and leaned back into his arrogance like it was armor. "Miss, I think you made a mistake."The woman did not look at him.Her attention stayed on Desmond."Good evening, Mr. Kane," she said.Her voice was calm and smooth. It only made Tristan more certain he could talk his way out of this moment.He stood straighter and smiled, the kind of smile he used when trying to impress people with older money. "You clearly do not know what kind of man you are standing beside. Let m

Tristan's smirk stayed in place as he raised his glass.Desmond looked at the whiskey in his hand.He knew how this ended before.Back then, he had been dizzy, confused, and desperate to keep the peace. He had taken the drink and tried to talk things out like a fool. Ten minutes later, he could barely sit straight. Fifteen minutes later, Bryce had him pinned against the booth while Evan shoved papers under his hand. Tristan had laughed and called it a family lesson.This time, Desmond did not lift the glass.He set it back on the table.Tristan's smile faded a little. "What are you doing?""Not making your job easier," Desmond said.Nolan leaned back with interest. Bryce's eyes narrowed. Evan's fingers stopped over the folder.Tristan let out a dry laugh. "You think too highly of yourself. It is just a drink.""Then you should have no problem drinking mine," Desmond replied.The sentence landed like a slap.Bryce looked at Tristan. Evan looked at the glass. Even Nolan's amusement shar

Tristan Hawthorne slammed his glass on the private bar table and glared at the city lights beyond the tinted window. He still could not accept what happened at Lumiere. In his mind, Desmond was still the same fool who lowered his head, swallowed insults, and thanked the Hawthornes for treating him like trash.A man like that did not suddenly become rich.A man like that did not suddenly grow a spine."He is bluffing," Tristan said.Across from him sat three friends who enjoyed taking what weaker people could not protect. Nolan Pierce, whose family owned clubs across the city. Bryce Laughton, a heavy brute who trusted his fists more than words. Evan Cole, a smiling parasite with a law degree and no conscience.Nolan swirled his drink. "If the money is real, it still ends up in your family's hands."Bryce cracked his knuckles. "And if he refuses?"Tristan smiled. "Then we make him cooperate."Evan tapped the folder on the table. "Transfers, authorizations, control rights. A drunk signat

The laughter in Lumière was like a physical whip, lashing against Vanessa’s back. She stood frozen for a second, her face a mask of humiliated rage. People weren't just whispering; they were openly mocking her. "Selfish," someone called out. "Look at her face, she thought she hit the jackpot," another whispered.Vanessa snapped. She stamped her feet against the marble floor, her heels clicking sharply. "You'll beg me, Desmond!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "When you lose all that money and realize you’re still nothing, you’ll come crawling back!"She didn't wait for a response. She turned and stormed out of the restaurant, her head held high in a fake show of dignity that fooled no one. Desmond didn't even turn his head to watch her leave.The next morning, the sun barely touched the horizon before Desmond was awake. He sat at his small desk, the glow of his phone illuminating a face that looked years older than it had a week ago. His investments had climbed to $3,000,000.”The

"A bulk order, sir?" Celeste asked. Her voice hitched, and the notepad in her hand trembled slightly. She had worked at Lumière for three years, and the most she’d ever seen anyone order was a tasting menu for a wedding party of twenty.Desmond didn't look up from his phone. His fingers swiped across a list he had prepared earlier that morning—a survivalist’s dream menu, optimized for caloric density and long-term storage in his Void Store."Yes. I need to place a substantial takeaway order," Desmond said. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, radiating a calm that seemed to suck the air out of the surrounding tables. "Let’s start with the Wagyu beef course. I’ll need one thousand portions of that."Vanessa, who had been halfway through a scathing retort about his "imaginary money," froze. Her face flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson as she realized the people at the neighboring table—a group of corporate executives—had stopped their conversation to stare."What are you doi