Novels by Quin Ari

The black SUV rolled through the capital streets at 6:12 p.m. Rain streaked the tinted windows.Ethan sat in the back, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. Victoria sat beside him. Red dress still on from the night before. Makeup perfect. Expression blank.Neither spoke.The driver didn’t dare look in the rearview.They pulled up to the mansion gates. Iron swung open without a sound.The car stopped at the front steps.Ethan got out first. Didn’t offer a hand.Victoria stepped out behind him. Heels clicked on wet stones.Secret Service agents stiffened when they saw him. They parted without a word. Inside the ballroom, crystal chandeliers threw light across two hundred suits and gowns. The President’s party fundraiser was in full swing. Laughter. Clinking glasses. Fake smiles. Ethan walked straight through the crowd. People stepped aside. Whispers followed him like smoke. He stopped at the center table. The President sat there, flanked by the Party Chairman and three advisors.

Ethan pushed the bedroom door open without knocking. The room was quiet. He glanced around. Victoria’s silk robe lay crumpled across the foot of the bed. Her dress from dinner was folded neatly on the chair. He stepped inside and closed the door with his heel. His eyes swept the space once, twice. Bathroom door shut. Water running. He moved fast. He lifted the robe first—nothing underneath. Then the dress—pockets empty. He crouched, checked under the bed, under the mattress edge. His fingers found the hidden compartment in the vanity almost by instinct. It was empty. He straightened, jaw tight. His gaze landed on the nightstand. Her phone sat there, screen dark, charging cable coiled beside it. He picked it up. The lock screen showed the time: 11:47 p.m. He swiped. No passcode. She never bothered with one on this phone. Arrogant. Or maybe she wanted him to look. He opened the messaging app. Nothing unusual. Weather updates. Calendar reminders. A dry-cleaning confirm

Chapter 176.Downstairs, Ethan poured a glass of whiskey. He didn't drink it. He held the cool glass and stared at the amber liquid. The image of her tears, her clenched hands, played behind his eyes. The anger was a cold, living thing in his stomach. He had decided to let it slide. But the decision felt wrong. It felt weak.He set the glass down with a sharp crack. He turned and took the stairs back up two at a time. He did not knock. He opened the bedroom door.Victoria was still on the bench. She looked up, startled. Her mask of calm was back, but it was fragile, like cracked glass.Ethan closed the door. The room felt suddenly smaller, charged.“The headache,” he said, his voice low. “Is it gone?”She nodded. “Yes. I’m better.”He walked toward her slowly. Each step was deliberate. “You’re a terrible liar, Victoria.”She stood up, a defensive movement. “I’m not lying.”He stopped in front of her. He was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his cold eyes. “You went out t

The rain tapped a gentle rhythm against the bedroom window. Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking. Silent tears carved hot paths down her cheeks. She made no sound. The only evidence was the slow, steady fall of drops onto the back of her clasped hands.The door opened.She heard his footsteps. She drew in a sharp, quiet breath. Her hands flew to her face, wiping furiously at her eyes. She straightened her spine, composing her features by the time he rounded the bed to face her.Ethan stood there, watching her. He saw the redness around her eyes, the slight dampness on her lashes. He saw the way her hands were clenched too tightly in her lap. A cold anger lived in his chest towards her, a solid, heavy thing. But seeing her like this—fragile, trying so hard to hide it—made something else flicker.“Are you fine?” he asked. His voice was neutral, not warm, but not accusing.Victoria nodded, too quickly. “I’m fine.” Her voice was a little thick. She cleared her thr

The gunshot echoed, sharp and final. For a second, there was only the ringing silence.Then, pain exploded.The President screamed. A high, raw sound. He looked down. A dark, wet stain bloomed on the thigh of his tailored trousers. The bullet had torn through his own leg.It wasn't Jack that pulled the trigger or the president. The door exploded inward. Secret Service agents swarmed the room, weapons drawn. They saw the President on the floor, bleeding. They saw Jack over him, hands on the gun.“GET HIM OFF ME!” the President shrieked, clutching his leg. His face was white with pain and terror.Rough hands grabbed Jack. They yanked him backward, throwing him to the floor. A knee landed on his back. He felt cold metal handcuffs snap around his wrists.“The President is hit! Medic!” an agent yelled into his radio.Chaos filled the room. Agents surrounded the President, applying pressure to the wound. Their guns stayed trained on Jack.Jack lay on the carpet, his cheek pressed to the

Chapter 173.Mr. President sat behind his vast, empty desk. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm on the polished wood. His intercom buzzed. “Sir? Ex assistant general, Jack is here for his scheduled appointment. He says it’s regarding… urban renewal.”The President’s breath caught. Jack. He didn't believe Jack finally left Ethan's hostage. “Send him in,” he said, his voice tighter than he intended.The door opened. Jack walked in. The door shut, leaving them alone.“Mr. President,” Jack said, bowing his head slightly.“Jack,” the President said, not rising. He gestured to a chair. “H….how did you escape prison.?”Jack didn’t sit. He took a step closer. “Thats not the question you should be asking me, not when I am here for revenge. I was his prisoner. He tortured me. I can give you everything you need to destroy him. Publicly. Legally.”The President leaned forward, with a smirk on his face. “And what do you want in return?”“Protection,” Jack hissed. “A new identity. And a chance t

Marcus dropped the gun on Grey's chest, covering his face with his hands before standing up and pulling his hair back. He walked away, got into his car, and drove off, lost in thought.As he arrived home, he rested his head on the steering wheel, wondering how he would face his parents. He was still reeling from the revelation that his parents, whom he had believed were dead, were actually alive.With a sigh, he stepped out of the car and locked it, noticing the eerie silence. As he entered the house, he flipped on the light switch, and suddenly, everyone screamed "Surprise!"Marcus flinched, taken aback by the sudden noise and the sea of faces before him. He was surrounded by loved ones, all holding flowers and balloons, their faces beaming with joy."What's going on?" Marcus asked, genuinely surprised, and they all smiled.Sandra stepped forward, beaming. "Since your parents are alive, I thought of doing a little celebration to mark the happy news," she explained, and everyone nodde

"I should be the one saying that," Grey sneered, laughing evilly. Marcus stared at him, his eyes blazing with fury, as he moved forward."You dare think of hurting my parents?" Marcus growled.Grey shrugged. "That's the rule of the street: kill to survive."Marcus shook his head in disgust. "Not your own blood, Grey. He was your elder brother, and you dared to do this to him?"Grey smirked. "Spare me the crap, Marcus. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. It's survival. The rule is to survive. Your father thought he could have all the good things in life and make me his puppet? Never. I took control of my own destiny."Marcus scoffed. "Take control of your destiny? You call this control? Locking up your own family, manipulating and using them for your own gain?"Grey didn't answer, he just shrugged his shoulders, his expression unrepentant."You know one of the things I hate?" Marcus asked, his eyes blazing with anger as he stared at Grey."What?" Grey asked, a hint of

The next day, after breakfast, Marcus set out to Grey's house, parking his car at a distance. He put on his hoodie and stepped out, glancing around cautiously before walking towards the gate. To his surprise, it swung open with ease, suggesting Grey had forgotten to lock it. Marcus entered, still looking over his shoulder, and pushed open the creaky front door.As he stepped inside, his eyes scanned the empty rooms, his gaze darting everywhere. The house seemed abandoned, with no signs of life or warmth. Marcus let out a sigh, confusion etched on his face. Why did Grey's house look like no one lived there?He began to climb the stairs, trying to be careful not to make a sound, his senses heightened as he ventured deeper into the house.Marcus stood in the middle of the house, his eyes scanning the area, trying to locate the source of the mysterious noise he had heard earlier. He finally found the room, but it was locked. He searched for something to open the door, but found nothing

Sandra groaned, trying to sit up, and Marcus rushed to her side, helping her into a comfortable position. She gave him a weak smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Leaning back against the pillow, she whispered, "Thank you."Marcus nodded, adjusting the pillow for her. The silence between them was awkward, until Marcus cleared his throat, forcing Sandra to look at him. "I want to ask a personal question," he said, his eyes locked on hers.Sandra nodded weakly, "Go on."Marcus held her hands, his voice filled with emotion. "Have you ever thought of marriage?" he asked, his eyes searching for answers.Sandra smiled weakly, but this time, it reached her eyes. "Does it matter?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.Marcus nodded, urging her to answer. "Please, answer me. Have you ever thought of marriage?" he asked again, his voice filled with longing.Sandra chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Why are you so interested? When did you begin to care?" she asked, her voice

"What?!" Marcus exclaimed, stunned, and Katherine nodded, swallowing hard. "The report came in when you left to find her," she said, her voice trembling. "It showed that she's carrying a child." Marcus gasped, cursing under his breath as he rubbed his hair in disbelief. "No, no, no," he muttered, shaking his head. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He didn't need a DNA test to know the child was his. Overwhelmed, Marcus collapsed to the floor, covering his face with his hands. He felt angry at himself, frustrated that he couldn't protect his own child. "I couldn't be there for my own child... what kind of father am I?" he mumbled, slapping himself in despair. Katherine rushed to his side, trying to calm him down. "Stop, Marcus, please," she begged, but he shook her off. "No, I have failed," he repeated, slapping himself harder. "I have failed as a father. What kind of father am I?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion. Katherine paused, taken aback by his word

Amayah seized the opportunity to escape, dashing outside as Marcus was distracted. She spotted Owen and rushed towards him, relief washing over her. "Baby, let's get out of here! Marcus is crazy!" she begged, tugging on Owen's arm.But Owen didn't budge. Instead, he pulled her close, his hands gripping her waist tightly. "How did you think I ended up here?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.Amayah swallowed hard, confusion etched on her face. "I don't get it," she stammered.Owen let out an evil laugh. "You're truly dumb," he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.Amayah's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. "Wait, you... you tracked me here?" she asked, disbelief etched on her face.Owen nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Amayah tried to step back, but he caught her, holding her tight. She was trapped, and Owen's grip only tightened as he reveled in his sinister triumph."I didn't just track you here," Owen sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "

The slap echoed in the marble foyer. Arthur stumbled, the world tilting. He caught himself against the wall, his cheek burning.Before he could speak, his father, Charles Walsh, grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He yanked him close. Spittle flew from his lips as he spoke, his voice a low, furious tremor.“You bribed a police officer?” Charles hissed. “You handed cash to a cop in a school hallway, in front of a hundred witnesses? Are you brain-dead?”“Dad, I—”“Shut up!” Charles roared, shaking him. “Do you know how that ends? It ends with you running my upcoming election! They might use this against me, you stupid boy!”He shoved Arthur away in disgust. Arthur tripped over his own feet and landed hard on the floor. He looked up, cradling his face, eyes wide with terror. He’d never seen his father like this.His father loomed over him, his expression one of pure contempt. “You are a useless son. A blunt instrument. No brains, only ego. I send you to the best schools, and you lear

The sound of Arthur’s mocking claps stopped when another sound cut through the hallway.“Break it up! Move aside!”Students scrambled to clear a path. Two police officers in dark uniforms pushed their way into the circle. Their eyes swept over the scene: Jack standing, blood on his lip, Mark on his knees, Dex slumped against the lockers.The taller officer, his face stern, zeroed in on Jack. “Jack Miller?”Jack nodded slowly. “Yes.”“You’re under arrest for assault,” the officer said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He pulled a pair of cold, metal handcuffs from his belt.“What? He was defending himself!” a voice shouted from the crowd.Saint James shoved his way to the front, his face flushed with anger. Another friend, Sanito, was right behind him, eyes wide with shock. They had just arrived, drawn by the commotion.“They jumped him!” Sanito yelled, pointing at Mark and Dex. “Three on one! Ask anyone!”The officer ignored him. He took Jack’s wrist and snapped one cuff on, t

Jack gave a single, slow nod. He understood Mr. Black’s warning perfectly. Then he turned and left.Outside the Lotex building, the evening air was cool. Jack pulled his collar up against the breeze as he walked toward the bus stop. As he passed a dimly lit café window, a reflection made him pause.Inside, seated alone at a small table, was the same woman from earlier. Dark sunglasses were now pushed up on her head, revealing sharp, observant eyes.She wasn’t looking at him directly, but her gaze was fixed on his reflection in the glass. Her expression was unreadable. Not hostile, not friendly. Just… watching.Jack’s frown returned. He stopped walking and turned to look directly into the café.The woman didn’t look away. She took a slow sip from her cup, her eyes holding his for a long, deliberate moment. He shook his head, dismissing her as a strange coincidence, and continued on his way.---The next morning, the halls of Northwood University were buzzing with the usual chaos. Jac

The silence in the lobby became absolute. Every whisper died. William slowly rose from his chair. The legs scraped against the marble floor with a sharp, ugly sound. His face, which had been glowing with cruel satisfaction, went slack with disbelief. He stared at Mr. Black as if he’d spoken in another language.“What did you say?” William asked. His voice was low, dangerous.Mr. Black didn’t blink. He walked forward, until he stood beside Jack. He didn’t look at Jack. His eyes were locked on William.“I said,” Mr. Black repeated, his tone even and clear, “Jack Miller will not apologize. You will invest under the original terms, or you will leave. There is no third option.”Victor Crane’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. He looked from Mr. Black to William, panic flooding his features. “Mr. Black, please! You don’t understand! We need this investment! The board—”“The board,” Mr. Black cut in, his head turning just slightly toward Victor, “does not make this decision. I do. On b

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and held William's gaze without blinking. That only made William hotter with anger, he could not believe a kid like this would dare insult him. He gritted his teeth.William answered a call and flipped the phone to speaker. “There’s an idiot at the downfall,” the voice said. “If that person doesn’t leave the company, I won’t invest.” Jack didn't flinch; he only scoffed. “I’m coming,” the caller finished, and the line went dead.“You don't know what you’ve done,” William snapped. “I’ll make you pay. You’ll regret this day.” Jack smiled then, calm, almost amused. He loved that William was the one losing his temper, not him. He took a slow step closer, his calm presence only feeding William’s fury. “Regret it? That’s funny,” Jack said softly, almost mockingly. “Because right now, you’re the one losing control.”William’s hands trembled slightly as he balled them into fists. “Control? You have no idea who you’re dealing with!” he shouted, his

Chapter thirteen.“Sir—” he began.“Just call me Jack,” Jack cut in, his voice sharp enough to slice through the silence.Mr. Black swallowed hard and nodded. “Jack… announcing you as the cleaner doesn’t seem like a good idea.”Jack’s lips curved into a dry, humorless smile. “Just do it.”A tense pause hung in the air. Mr. Black drew in a deep breath, eyes flicking to the stack of files on the desk as if searching for courage. “Then I’ll have to appoint Ms. Evelyn Harper,” he said finally.Jack’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Why her?”“She’s supposed to be your mentor,” Mr. Black replied, his tone low but firm. “And right now, she’s the only one who can be by your side without them noticing.”Jack’s jaw tightened. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he muttered under his breath, “Fair enough,” though his voice carried the weight of a man who hated to admit it.“Let’s go,” Mr. Black said quietly.Jack followed him down the hall, the sound of their footsteps echoing like a