Novel-novel oleh ari noana

Agatha POV:The applause thundered, a wave of sound washing over me as I stepped back from the podium.The weight of the "Innovator of the Year" award felt solid, cool in my hands.From the stage of the grand ballroom, the sea of faces blurred slightly – industry leaders, tech journalists, NexGen employees, their expressions a mixture of respect and admiration.My gaze found my family in the front row.Dad, his eyes shining with a pride that made my own throat tighten, sat beside Lena, who was beaming, dabbing at her eyes with a discreet tissue.Isabella, a miniature vision in a velvet dress, clapped enthusiastically, her gap-toothed grin infectious.&

News Report Snippet – Financial Times Online, October 17th, Three Years Later“NEXGEN SHINES: DE ROSSI AT THE HELM, CAMPBELL STRATEGIES PAY OFF. Three years after the tumultuous period that saw NexGen teeter on the brink, the tech giant has not only stabilized but thrived under the leadership of CEO Agatha Campbell-De Rossi. Analysts credit her sharp business acumen, inherited from her father, the legendary Aldo De Rossi (now retired but serving in an advisory capacity), and a series of bold, strategic partnerships, many reportedly influenced by her husband, Charles Campbell, CSO of Campbell Enterprises. The successful integration of Campbell’s security and logistics expertise with NexGen’s innovative tech has created a formidable market force. This success comes as a welcome contrast to the recent downfall of rival Xing Enterprises, whose enigmatic former head, James Wei, currently faces a barrage of international fraud and market manipulation charges f

Agatha POV:The scent of flowers, mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of expensive perfume and old wood, filled the air.It was… beautiful. Surprisingly beautiful.Not the grand, ostentatious affair Charles’s stepmother had initially envisioned, nor the sterile, contractual signing I had secretly feared. Charles, in a rare moment of concession, had agreed to my request for something smaller, more intimate. Just family and our closest friends.Lena stood beside me, radiant in a chic emerald green dress, her eyes suspiciously bright. "You look stunning, Aggie," she whispered, squeezing my arm. "Absolutely breathtaking."I managed a smile, touching the delicate lace of my ivory gown. It wasn't a traditional wedding dress –

Agatha POV:The scent of antiseptic and starched linen still clung to Charles’s private hospital room, but it was less oppressive today.Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating the tastefully understated floral arrangement I’d sent yesterday – pale yellow roses, a deliberate departure from the pink ones he favored, a subtle assertion of… something. Independence, maybe. Or just a different mood.Charles was propped up against a mountain of pillows, looking remarkably well, considering he’d been discharged only a week ago after the hit-and-run.The bruises on his face had faded to a sickly yellow-green, the cut above his eyebrow was healing neatly, and his arm, though still in a sling, seemed to bother him less.

Agatha POV:The clanging of steel doors, the echoing footsteps on concrete floors, the hushed, desperate whispers of other visitors – the sounds of the correctional facility were a jarring assault on my senses.Each hallway felt colder, greyer, more oppressive than the last.This was a world away from the hushed luxury of my father’s mansion, from the sleek modernity of Charles’s penthouse, from the bustling efficiency of NexGen. This was a world of consequences.My hands trembled slightly as I followed the uniformed guard down a long, sterile corridor. I clutched my purse tighter, the contents – a few carefully chosen photos of Sophie, Camille had reluctantly provided after much persuasion from Lena – feeling like a fragile offering, a tiny beacon of

Agatha POV:"Are you sure you want to sell the mansion, Dad? You built it for Mom." I traced the rim of my teacup, the delicate porcelain cool against my fingertips.Dad sighed, setting down his own cup with a faint clink. He looked better, much better. The weeks since the attack, since Charles’s hospitalization and slow, frustrating recovery, had been a blur of stress and uncertainty, but seeing Dad regain his strength, his old spark, had been a steadying anchor."Yes, I know, dear," he said, his voice still a little raspy, but firm."But after what happened here… I don’t want to hold onto these bad memories. This house… it feels tainted now." His gaze swept the opulent room, a flicker of sadness in his eyes.