Novels by Vivi wealth

Camille's pov “Mama, the buildings look shiny,” Ella whispered dramatically from beside the window.I glanced toward her and smiled faintly. “That’s because New York likes showing off.”The first thing I felt when I stepped back into Manhattan was anger. Quiet anger sitting deep inside my chest while black SUVs moved through streets I once ran away from with nothing except humiliation and two unborn babies growing inside me.Noah looked up from his dinosaur book immediately. “Chicago is shiny too.”“Yes,” I said patiently. “But Manhattan thinks it’s prettier.”Both twins burst into offended little arguments defending Chicago while my assistant Natalie tried unsuccessfully not to laugh from the passenger seat.The sound filled the car warmly, softening something tense inside me.Because six years ago, I came back to this city broken.This time, I returned with my children, my company, and enough power that people now fought for invitations into rooms carrying my name.Laurent House’s

Camille's povNothing in my life had ever terrified me more than the sound of my babies crying at the same time while I stood in the middle of a freezing apartment with exactly eleven dollars left in my bank account.I remember staring at the flickering kitchen light above me while one hand warmed a milk bottle beneath running water and the other bounced my son gently against my shoulder.The landlord had threatened eviction that morning. Again.The heater barely worked. Rain leaked through the cracked corner near the bedroom window whenever storms hit hard enough, and the tiny apartment smelled permanently of detergent from the laundromat downstairs.A year ago, I had lived inside a Manhattan mansion with marble floors and staff waiting outside every door. Now I counted coins before buying bread.Life was funny that way.“Mama…”My daughter’s sleepy little voice cracked through the apartment softly from the mattress pushed against the wall.I looked over immediately.Ella sat up slow

Camille's povAfter the wedding, I became a ghost inside the Harrison mansion.Just an unwanted mistake people tolerated because divorce headlines would cost too much money.The staff bowed politely but watched me carefully, like they were waiting for me to steal silverware on my way out. Every newspaper in Manhattan painted me as the jealous older sister who had trapped a billionaire into marriage, and no matter how quietly I carried myself, the stain never disappeared.Worst of all was Asher.He never yelled after that first day. That would’ve been easier.Instead, he became cold in the kind of way that slowly hollowed a person out from the inside. And Mabel made sure it stayed that way. She cried beautifully. Softly. Believably.Whenever she visited the mansion, she wore sadness like expensive perfume. She’d cling to Asher’s arm with trembling fingers and apologize for causing problems while carefully reminding him that I had always envied her. Sometimes she’d even defend me just

Camille's pov "Stand still, Miss Camille.”By the time the third person pinned my veil into place, I stopped feeling like a bride and started feeling like evidence being prepared for a crime.The women hired to dress me barely spoke as they moved around the room, adjusting lace and smoothing silk against my skin. Outside the locked guest suite windows, morning sunlight poured across the Summers estate like today was beautiful.“Done,” one of the servants murmured quietly.I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time.The veil covered most of my face, softening my features beneath layers of ivory lace.For a brief second, I didn’t even recognize myself.Maybe that was the point.The bedroom door opened behind me. My mother entered first, perfectly composed in an elegant navy dress while my father followed closely behind her adjusting the cufflinks on his suit. Neither of them looked emotional enough to be giving away a daughter today.Then again, maybe they weren’t.Beatrice’s

Camille's pov “You’re marrying Asher Harrison tomorrow instead of your sister.”The words slammed into me so hard I actually forgot how to breathe for a second.I stood frozen in the middle of my father’s office, fingers still curled around the strap of my handbag from the rushed drive home. Less than thirty minutes ago, my father’s assistant had called me at work and told me to come home immediately. The tone alone had terrified me. I had spent the entire drive thinking the bankruptcy rumors were finally true.I hadn’t expected this.The office suddenly felt too small. The scent of expensive cigars and polished mahogany clawed at my throat.“I don’t understand,” I said quietly, though the shaking in my voice betrayed me. “The engagement was always Mabel’s.”Neither of my parents answered immediately.My mother sat elegantly on the cream sofa beside the fireplace, one hand smoothing over ivory lace spread across her lap. I recognized the fabric instantly.Mabel’s wedding dress.The s