Novels by aayobamialabi

Cullen sat in his dimly lit study, nursing a drink and a grudge. It had been days since his last humiliation, and the anger still churned in his gut like a festering wound. Emily found out about his scheme so fast. It didn’t even have time to do the damage it was planned to do. It didn’t have time to sow in the seed of doubt…no time for her to guess. Nothing! All his efforts just went down the drain, and it hurt. Every failure, every setback…it was never his fault. Emily had outmaneuvered him, sure, but only because Sylvester had interfered. That man had a way of ruining things, and Cullen was sick of it. He was sure that he sent that man to follow him around. If not, how would they have known his plans? The man was sitting smug in the kitchen, and came out like a guard dog when things between he and Emily became heated. Damn Sylvester and his minions! As if the universe wanted to add insult to injury, his phone buzzed. He picked it up, already irritated. When he saw the nam

Sylvester was done thinking after a few minutes, and decided to beat the answers to his question out of the assassin he had knocked out. He crouched beside the spy, watching him carefully. The man was lying in a crumpled heap, his breathing shallow but steady. Sylvester waited for a while, then became impatient. The man was going to wake up sooner or later and if he could prompt it, then he would. “Wake up,” he muttered, grabbing the man’s collar and giving him a rough shake. No response. Sylvester narrowed his eyes. “You’re either real good at playing dead, or you’ve actually passed out. Either way, you’re talking.” He yanked the spy upright, leaning in close. “Who sent you?” The spy groaned, shifting slightly but keeping his eyes shut. Sylvester sighed, tightening his grip. “I don’t have the patience for games. Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll…” In a flash, the spy’s hand shot out, flinging a small pouch straight into Sylvester’s face. A sharp, acrid scent hit him imme

Sylvester walked with an easy stride, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning his surroundings without making it obvious. Since he left the house, someone was following him. He knew it before the person made three steps in his direction. Intention was easy to read, and when eyes were on him, he could tell.The person was persistent, and did everything they could to stay within reach, despite Sylvester trying to lose them.He didn’t want to end up in a scuffle today. Besides, being a city muse, he was used to being tailed. But the intention on this one was clearly malicious. But who? And why?Sylvester decided to take it upon himself to bring this person to limelight.If they were following him with such clearly evil intentions, then it was only a matter of time before they showed themselves…and their intentions.That was sure.He walked at a casual pace, whistling under his breath, playing the part of someone lost in thought. The presence behind him persisted. He could feel it…silent, pat

Sylvester sat cross-legged, lost in his cultivation, when the vision hit him like a soft dream. A land…his land.His country. So peaceful it felt unreal. No wars, no politics, no betrayals. Just calm skies, lush greenery, and people living without fear.Three children passed by him as he ventured further into the city, laughing and playing what he thought to be hopscotch. It had been so long since he engaged in any leisure of any sort, he barely remembered the names of them.He looked around, taking uneven steps as he moved deeper into this lush city.Would Greele ever know peace like this?The familiar scent of spices pulled him away from his vision, and away from cultivation.He tried to focus, and tried to get himself in check, but the scent was just too strong.He finally opened his eyes.His wife was in the kitchen, and if her scent called out to him, he’d better answer. He found Emily stirring a pot, and even though there was a smile on her face when she saw him, it didn’t tak

Edrag sat in his dimly lit quarters, one hand lazily twirling a dart while the other gripped the edge of his chair. A massive, slightly crumpled picture of Sylvester Wright was pinned to the wall in front of him, its corners curling from repeated abuse. Edrag squinted at it, rolling his shoulders before flicking the dart straight into the forehead of the man in the image.Thwack.Right between the eyes. He let out a satisfied exhale. “Boom. Dead.”Not dead in real life, though. And that was a problem. A big one.For him, every moment that Sylvester breathed was a moment to loathe. He hated himself as long as that man was alive, and wasn’t afraid to express it.As such, the giant picture of Sylvester Wright that had too many holes for comfort was suitable.He leaned back, tossing another dart in the air and catching it, his mind stirring with the same tired thought loop he had been riding for months.Sylvester Wright needed to go. In fact, he should have been gone a long time ago. Wh

The next time Cullen visited Emily, he had come with malicious content – evidence that was bound to break her home.He knew his sister.She was emotionally volatile, and tended to act on the now. He was going to use that to wreck her from the inside.That was the most important phase of his plan to destroy the Wright family.Sheep separated from the herd would always be easier to hunt. If he was able to separate Emily and Sylvester, it would be easier for him to deal with them.At least, that’s what he thought.As soon as he opened the door the Emily’s house, he was met with a less welcoming glare.“There’s my sister,” he smiled, putting on his best charm. “What’s gotten you into such a fuss?” he strode towards her, but she stepped back.The frown on her face wasn’t just there for show, though. She knew something that he didn’t, but Cullen didn’t know that.In fact, he was so unaware of how much dirt she had on him, that he decided to ignore the visible scowl of hatred that was plaste