The Marquell's Heir
Epilogue
A name she never knew.
A world she never asked for.
And now, everything changes.
Nova Whit is pulled into the Marquell legacy—a family built on wealth, power, and buried truths. she’s in a house where power runs deeper than blood, and the people inside are as dangerous as the secrets they keep.
The Marquells. A family with a name that holds more weight than she ever imagined. And in their world, one thing is clear: no one can be trusted.
And in the silence of the Marquell estate, where time seems to hesitate and eyes watch too closely, Nova steps into a story that was already waiting for her.
Not by chance.
Not by choice.
But by the quiet pull of something that’s been set in motion—long before she arrived.
Now, all she can do is follow the trail.
And who’s really leading who?
Author Ri
This is my New chat story
Author Ri
Hope my dear readers like it
Episode 1: A begining
The night was unnaturally quiet.
The wind howled through the empty street like a wounded animal. Streetlights flickered violently, as though protesting the presence of something unnatural. It was half-past midnight—when the city slept, but the monsters within it stirred.
A man in black walked through the alley, hands in his coat pockets, face half-hidden beneath the shadow of a cap. His boots tapped against the wet pavement with a rhythm too calm.
At the alley’s dead end, another man waited—pacing, muttering under his breath. He looked up as the man approached.
？？？
“Finally!!” *snapped*
“You took a lot of time”
The man said nothing at first. He stopped just a few feet away, looking at him with unreadable eyes.
？？？
“Then hand it over and we’re done. I don’t want to get involved in this any more than I already am.” *impatiently*
？？？
*smile faintly* “You already are.”
It happened so fast, that the waiting man didn’t even see the blade until it was buried in his gut.
？？？
*gasp!!*
“Wh–why... you said—”
*stumble*
the man pulled the blade out with a practiced twist. Blood pooled quickly at the victim’s feet.
？？？
“Please,” *he choked* “I didn’t tell anyone— I swear—”
The man murmured and crouching beside him.
The knife moved again, precise, deliberate. There was no hesitation in his movements.
？？？
“Stop struggling. I just need what’s inside and You shouldn't have lied”.
He muttered, Slicing across the man’s chest with clinical efficiency.
The dying man whimpered and soon there was silence once again.
Standing up, the man reached into his coat and pulled out a phone and diled a number.
A voice answered on the second ring.
？？？
“It’s done,”
*said simply.*
after speaking to the person on phone he threw it back inside his pocket and walked away, disappearing into the fog—
The university lecture hall pulsed with a steady mix of attention and apathy. Tiered seating stretched across the wide room, filled with students in various stages of consciousness. A few were dozing, arms folded, heads bobbing with every slide change. Some were half-listening, their phones hidden under the table, fingers flicking across social media feeds. The diligent ones sat up straight, tapping notes on tablets or scribbling into worn notebooks.
The massive smart screen at the front glowed blue as Professor Mr. Claridge paced beside it, his voice calm and amplified through the mic clipped to his collar.
Mr Claridge
“Efficiency is not just about time. It’s about consistency. Control. The ability to predict outcomes even in unstable supply networks.”
He clicked the remote again. A case study appeared on the screen—graphs, numbers, timelines.
Somewhere in the middle of the room, Nova Whit set with Focus and a pen gliding across a page of notes. She wore a peach-colored shirt tucked into white pants creates a clean, fresh look, giving a sharp contrast to the violet hue of her eyes—unusual, yet never dramatic. Her platinum-blonde hair framed her face in loose waves, catching hints of light when she leaned forward to write.
Nova Whit/ Marquell
*taking notes*
Beside her, Rachel Gable her good friend leaned back slightly, twirling her pen between her fingers like a baton.
Nova Whit/ Marquell
*glance at her*
Rachel Gable
“Why does he always talk like he’s narrating a documentary?” *whisper*
Nova Whit/ Marquell
“Because he thinks he’s hosting a business podcast and we’re his lucky live audience.”
Rachel Gable
“We could’ve streamed this on YouTube with popcorn instead of freezing in this overpriced lecture hall.”
Nova Whit/ Marquell
*giggle*
Rachel Gable
“Okay, serious question. If you had money and no pressure—what business would you start?”
Nova Whit/ Marquell
*blink*
“That’s the second time you’re asking me that.”
Rachel Gable
“Yeah, because your last answer was ‘coffee and poetry’ and I feel like you’re holding out on me.”
Nova Whit/ Marquell
*sigh*
Nova Whit/ Marquell
“Fine. I’d probably open a used bookstore. You know, the cozy kind—with mismatched armchairs, string lights”
Nova Whit/ Marquell
“And you?” *glace at her*
Rachel Gable
*grin* “Oh, I’m going full-blown tech cult. Think big—apps that spy on you but in a cute way.”
Nova Whit/ Marquell
*frown* “That sounds horrifying.”
Rachel Gable
“But profitable” *wink*
They both stifled their laughter as Professor Claridge’s voice echoed again.
Mr Claridge
“And this,”
*pointing to a graph on the screen*
“is why decentralized logistics has become essential in post-pandemic recovery.”
Rachel Gable
“What even is that?” *stare blankly*
Nova Whit/ Marquell
“Basically? It’s your excuse to avoid learning Excel,” *muttered*
Nova bit back a smile and kept writing, though her thoughts wandered. Not because of the lecture. Soon the lecture got over and they attended their remaining classes together.
Nova slung her bag over her shoulder and walked through the college gates. The air smelled faintly of dust and sunlight, and her feet ached from sitting through back-to-back lectures. She let out a slow sigh as she made her way toward the bus stop, weaving through the familiar crowd.
Pulling out her phone, she unlocked the screen and tapped on the most-called contact: Mom.
After 3 rings it was finally picked up.
Nova Whit/ Marquell
"Hey, Mumma. you still at work?"
Elara Whit (FL Mom)
"Yeah, just wrapping up some files. You’re done for the day?"
Nova Whit/ Marquell
"Mhm, some lectures have been cancelled” *yawn*
Elara Whit (FL Mom)
*chuckle* it's good then. Go home and take some rest.
Nova Whit/ Marquell
“I’m heading back now. Want me to pick up anything?"
Elara Whit (FL Mom)
"umm... maybe some bread and milk on your way?"
Nova Whit/ Marquell
"Got it. Bye~"
Elara Whit (FL Mom)
"Bye. Now go home safe."
Nova ended the call with a soft smile, her fingers brushing the screen a moment longer before slipping the phone back into her bag. The afternoon sun dipped lower as she walked toward the corner mart, the buzz of cars and conversations filling the background.
Inside, she quickly grabbed the bread and milk her mom needed. The air inside was cool, the aisles familiar. She paid at the counter with a quiet “thank you,” then stepped out, blinking slightly at the sunlight.
That’s when she smelled it—smoky, spicy, unmistakable.
Just a few feet away, a food truck with a small crowd in front of it was grilling spicy chicken skewers, the kind seasoned with chili flakes, garlic, and just the right amount of char. Her stomach growled on cue.
With zero hesitation, she walked over and ordered one.
The skewer was hot and fresh, the spicy glaze glistening under the sun. She took a careful bite, savoring the perfect mix of heat and flavor.
Nova Whit/ Marquell
“Mm, okay, worth the fire in my mouth,”
Still chewing, she made her way to the nearby bus stop, balancing the groceries in one hand, skewer in the other. Just as she tossed the empty stick into the trash bin, her bus arrived with a hiss of brakes.
Nova hopped on, found her usual seat by the window, and exhaled—half full, half tired, but entirely at peace.
Still, something about today felt slightly off. Nothing obvious—just a quiet itch in her thoughts she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was nothing.
But even as the day moved on, that strange feeling went away.
Author Ri
Let's see what Novas future holds for her 🙃
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