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Picture two people at a beautiful, rustic hotel overlooking the sea. They're the epitome of a happily married couple on their honeymoon, until something happens that shakes their happy farcade -- a diary, to be exact! Eyare finds out he's a means to save face, a plan B and a second option through the damning words his recently aquired wife wrote down in her diary. Now he's at a loss as to what to do. It seems his life is a magnet for bad things, as one negative thing comes fast on the heels of the other. There's a conspiracy to wrench his birth right of the kingship, right from under his nose and from an unusual suspect too, lending credence to the saying ---- The people closest to you are the one's that can hurt you the most. The walls seem to be closing in on him. Will he be able to keep them at bay? Follow Eyare in this gripping tale on his race against time. Find out whose life is up for keeps and whose is going to be lost.
"You're going to have to brace yourself, madam -- your husband's a schizophrenic."
"Schizo - what?" She tasted it on her lips. It was very foreign to her. She sat up straighter, scared to hear what he was going to say.
Beads of sweat popped up on her forehead and she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the wooden frame of the chair she was sitting on.
She focused on the the hum of the air conditioner, capturing and enhancing it till it became a recurrent loop in her mind.
"A schizophrenic is someone
who can take up different personalities and looses touch with his environment, communicating with only people he can see. That's the layman's term." There was a pause, in which he looked at her directly and then continued speaking. "The scientific term is a bit more technical. It is one of several brain diseases whose symptoms may include loss of personality, agitation, catatonia, confusion, psychosis, unusual behavior, and social withdrawal. When you brought him in earlier, I was able to diagnose same symptoms I mentioned."
"Oh my God, this is terrible!" There were unshed tears in her eyes. Agitation was clear in her voice and she began wringing her fingers together. "Doctor, will he be okay? I mean, is there a cure and is he dangerous?"
"Not really, I mean most schizophrenics can be curtailed with drugs and become harmless with constant care." He looked at her, compassion lacing his eyes.
"That's fine then so ---"
"I'm afraid it's not. You see when you brought him in yesterday, he kept murmuring unintelligible words, but I was able to make out one word." This was the part he hated -- being the bearer of bad news.
He shook his left leg nervously, wondering how she was going to take it.
Osagiede waited with bated breath as the doctor leaned forward, hands laced together on his desk. "He mentioned the word -- kill."
"What's all this hogwash about killing, doctor?" Huge furrows appeared on her forehead and her voice rose in panic as her heart beat accelerated.
"I'm sorry, but your husband probably fancies himself as an executioner!"
"A what?" Her voice squeaked with fear.
"An executioner is ---"
"I know who an executioner is doctor, but my husband has never been violent, why, I'm even the one who kills the chicken during festive periods."
"Madam, this is not the time for jokes. Your husband needs serious medical attention and immediately too."
"Doctor, is he, can he . . . What I mean to ask is, can he be cured?"
"In most cases, no, we will do our best and leave the rest to God, but the earlier you bring him in, the faster his healing will take place." He interlaced his fingers for emphasis, leaning towards her.
He felt sorry for the woman whose husband was in the early stages of the mental disease. What could he say to comfort her? He only wished she could act fast and bring him in to start the treatment as delay was very dangerous.
Osagiede staggered up from the high backed chair and with some effort, lifted her stricken face to the doctor.
"I'm not ready for stark white walls, constricting spaces, the smell of sickness and death, neither am I ready for life being turned upside down. No doctor, I'm not bringing him in. . . yet."
The doctor was aghast with shock, his mouth fell open and he said with a shake of his head "This portends danger madam, how --- "
"I'm finished here and don't expect me back in a hurry."
With those words, she got up and rushed to open the door of his office and closed it quickly behind her, just incase she changed her mind.
Sagging against the door, a sob caught in her throat. No! She told herself, I can't give up easily, I have to be strong for him.
With that last thought, she walked briskly down the hospital corridor, later breaking into a run.
On the drive back home, she recalled the doctor's words.
Your husband fancies himself an executioner.
She had to get home soon, for earlier on, she had left Eyare murmuring to himself. Only God knew what he could do as she had left Eseosa with him.
With that last thought, she increased her speed, a niggling fear at the back of her mind.
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My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.
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The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.
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As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
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I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.
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In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?
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I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.
DREAM WAKE
E.V Ometan
Romance
Chapter 1 PROLOGUE
05/04/2022
Chapter 2 IN THE BEGINNING
05/04/2022
Chapter 3 RESURRECTION
05/04/2022
Chapter 4 PLANNING TIME
05/04/2022
Chapter 5 DESTINY WAITS -I
05/04/2022
Chapter 6 DESTINY WAITS - II
05/04/2022
Chapter 7 AND SO IT BEGINS
05/04/2022
Chapter 8 YOU, BABY AND I
05/04/2022
Chapter 9 TROUBLE IN PARADISE
05/04/2022
Chapter 10 ON THE CUSP OF DARKNESS
05/04/2022
Chapter 11 SUNNY DAYS AHEAD
30/04/2022
Chapter 12 TROUBLE REARS ITS UGLY HEAD
30/04/2022
Chapter 13 TOUGH DECISIONS
30/04/2022
Chapter 14 TREACHERY
30/04/2022
Chapter 15 THE SECRET MISSION
30/04/2022
Chapter 16 FRIEND . . . OR FOE
30/04/2022
Chapter 17 THE SECRET MISSION - II
30/04/2022
Chapter 18 THE PLAN
30/04/2022
Chapter 19 THE AFTERMATH
30/04/2022
Chapter 20 FRIEND OR FOE - II
30/04/2022
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