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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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I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.
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For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
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For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond. That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession. The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me. The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed. "You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me." My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.
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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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Six years ago, I was a naive girl sold by my father to the powerful Sanders estate, only to be tossed onto the streets after a brutal assault they labeled "marital infidelity." I fled the country pregnant and broken, hiding from the shadow of a husband I had never even met. Now, I’ve returned to New York with my triplets to sign the final divorce papers and disappear forever. But Archibald Sanders—the man I was told was a crippled recluse—intercepted us with the cold precision of a predator. He didn't see the woman his family destroyed; he saw a gold-digger who had shamed his name. His security team hunted us to a grimy motel, using tactical force to snatch my children away and drag me to his glass-walled empire. In his office, he loomed over me, demanding a DNA test and threatening to throw me in prison while my babies were lost to the foster system. He was convinced I’d cheated, yet he stared at my sons with a haunting confusion, unable to ignore the stormy blue eyes that were a perfect mirror of his own. I stood there, paralyzed by his scent—the sharp tang of rain and expensive leather that triggered the icy dread of my worst nightmares. How could he accuse me of betrayal when he felt exactly like the monster who had shattered my life in that dark hotel room? "I'll sign anything," I sobbed, "just give me my kids." But the game changed when my five-year-old son hacked the tower’s security, holding the skyscraper hostage to save me. In the chaos, a fragile, silent boy—Archibald’s secret son—wandered into the room and reached for me as if I were his missing soul. Archibald’s face turned to stone as he tore up the agreement and locked the doors. "Until I find out why my son is looking at you like that," he growled, "you aren't going anywhere."
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The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you're eager to see me, you'd better join the queue, darling."
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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