Novel Storm
I’m as good as single
Xavier’s fingers curled into fists atop the mahogany desk, his knuckles bleaching white as he struggled to piece together fragmented memories. The silence of the room pressed against him-a suffocating shroud of unanswered questions. He propelled himself up, the leather chair squeaking in protest, and walked to the window. His reflection stared back at him, like a ghost amid the expanse of New York’s freedom below. His mind whirled with the accusation that clung to him like a vile second skin.
“Who was she?” The question echoed in the cavernous space of his chest, hollow and haunting. He didn’t understand anything about the lady who accused him of rape. Worse, he has never seen the lady before; he just knows he woke up next to her the next day. How did she get to his suit? He doesn’t know how she got there. What the fuck is going on? He thought as he shoved both his hands into his pants.
The door crashed open. Xavier didn’t flinch; he watched the reflection of his father storming in, the old man’s fury palpable even through glass.
“What is this filth splattered across the internet, Xavier?” His father’s voice was a whip-crack, sharp and unforgiving.
“Filth?” Xavier turned slowly and deliberately. “That’s one word for it.”
“Cathleen doesn’t deserve this, Xavier!” The old man spat out, disdain souring his features.
Xavier’s jaw clenched. “Cathleen?” Mockery laced his tone, a cruel twist to the syllables. “Oh, you mean your precious daughter-in-law?”
“Watch your mouth,” his father warned, but Xavier plowed on, relentlessly.
“Father, I’m as good as single.” Xavier’s voice cut through the air, cold and hard as steel. “She vanished after that damn glow girl event-three months of radio silence. You think that’s what marriage is?”
“Where has she been?” His father’s question bore the weight of expectations unmet; disappointments piled high.
“Ask the wind.” Xavier scoffed, bitterness seeping into his bones. “Ask the empty bed where she’s supposed to lie. I don’t fucking know.”
“Xavier-” His father began, but Xavier wasn’t done.
“Your golden girl left without a trace, and now my name’s dragged through the mud, linked to some woman I’ve never seen before!” He barked a harsh laugh, devoid of humor. “Tell me, what’s next in the grand tale of Xavier Knight?”
They stood there, two Titans locked in a silent battle, the air between them charged with unspoken words and festering wounds. Xavier’s gaze never wavered, daring his father to challenge the narrative unraveling before them.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.
“What do you mean you don’t know where your wife is?”
Xavier’s hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching with restrained fury. “What do I mean?” he echoed, a snarl beneath his breath. “I’ll tell you what it means,” he shot back, the betrayal sharp as broken glass in his voice. “It means I’ve been living in a damn ghost marriage. Six months of emptiness, Father.” His dark eyes were pools of scorn. “And then, as if that wasn’t enough, your precious daughter-in-law sent me divorce papers, like a slap to the face.”
Old Mr. Knight’s posture sagged; his age suddenly became apparent as he lowered himself onto the edge of an opulent leather chair. The lines on his face deepened, etched by disappointment and concern. “Divorce papers?” he murmured, more to himself than to Xavier.
“Yes,” Xavier spat out, his hand raking through his hair, sending the dark strands into disarray. “Imagine waking up next to nothing after you decided to be loyal to your wife, but she ran off like a scared little cat.”
“Jesus, Xavier…” The old man’s voice trailed off, lost for words. He looked at his son, noticing the tempest brewing behind his eyes.
“I didn’t even have the decency to face me,” Xavier continued, his voice laced with acid as he sank into his chair, the leather creaking under the weight of his anger. “She just ran off from Miami, like a thief in the night, and came back only because I begged you to beckon her, and then vanished again.”
“Six months,” his father repeated, shaking his head slowly. “What did you do, Xavier? What did you say to her?”
“Nothing!” The word was a bullet, fired with precision at the heart of the accusation. “We were trying, alright? Giving it another fucking chance.” Xavier’s gaze was icy, his words slicing through the air. “But after the Glow Girl fiasco, she fled. No note, no call, nothing.”
The room was thick with tension, and the silence was shattered only by the distant hum of the city below. Old Mr. Knight sat, pondering the puzzle before him, each piece tainted with secrets and lies.
“Fix this,” he finally said, his voice hoarse with a cocktail of emotions. “Whatever the cost, Xavier, you’re not only fighting for your marriage but for your name.”
“Trust me,” Xavier growled, the fire of determination igniting within him. “I’ll clear my name and Cathleen-” He paused, a cold smile creeping onto his lips. “–she’ll regret crossing me.”
With every word, the atmosphere crackled, charged with the promise of vengeance and the bitter taste of betrayal.
Xavier’s fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the mahogany surface of his desk, each tapping a silent echo of the chaos raging in his mind. The room, once a sanctuary of power and control, now felt like a cage, the walls closing in with the weight of scandal and accusation.
“And the note?” Old Mr. Knight’s voice cut through the tension, his question hanging between them like the blade of a guillotine poised to drop.
Xavier’s jaw clenched, and his eyes were as cold as steel. “She left nothing for me except that fucking note with the excuse of going to an urgent meeting. No fucking breadcrumb trail.” Bitterness laced his words, sharp as barbed wire. “She bailed without a damn word.”
The old man, a statue of contemplation, allowed a knowing smirk to twist his lips. “I think I might have an idea of what is going on here.” He rose from his chair, the leather creaking under the shift of his weight. “I will go find her,” he declared, his tone edged with resolve. “And you, Xavier, fix your mess. I don’t believe for a second that she’s running without cause. More lurks beneath the surface, and if I’m right, it’s time you sort your life out, young man.”
With that, the old man exited, leaving a silence that throbbed with the pulse of unseen but palpable truth.
Alone, Xavier’s gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond the window, the sprawling metropolis indifferent to his turmoil. He raked a hand through his hair, the strands rebelling against his touch, much like the memories of that night-fragmented, elusive, mocking him with their absence.
“Fuck!” His curse was a whisper lost amidst the sirens and the ceaseless heartbeat of New York City.
He snatched his phone from the desk, the screen’s glow an unwelcome intrusion in the dimness of his brooding thoughts. Fingers flying over the keypad, he punched in the number with force enough to bruise.
“Get the lawyer!” he growled into the phone, his voice a low rumble of barely restrained fury.
Caleb’s response came quickly, tinged with an urgency that echoed Xavier’s own. “On it, boss. We’ll clean this up.”
“Make sure you do,” Xavier snapped, the threat implicit in his tone. “Because I swear to hell and back, Cathleen won’t get the upper hand. Not when I’m done with her.”
The line went dead, and Xavier tossed the phone aside, its impact against the desk a minor act of defiance in a battle where every move counted. His reputation, his legacy, and everything he had built were at stake-and Xavier Knight was no stranger to playing rough.
As the city lights blinked below, igniting paths through the encroaching darkness, Xavier’s resolve hardened. There would be no retreat, no surrender. This was war-a war he intended to win, whatever the cost.