Have you ever had a dream of someone that you've never met before and instantly fall in love with them, and it is so strong that when you wake up you feel that person's presence? Meet Charles Spielberg, the prime minister's son, renowned for being princely handsome and mostly loved by all the girls in Iceland. After experiencing a break up, Charles's heart hankered for a redheaded girl who emerges in his dreams every time he sleeps. He entails to believe she exits, and pulls up his valour to seek for her. Meet Sheila Lovatta, the optimistic poor girl who seemed to appear in Charles's dream without her knowing. She dreams of becoming one day an Elite. But what she doesn't know is that her brother is keeping a one million dollar secret that will change her life forever. (It's a world between the poor and the rich; a world where the rich can have everything they need, and the poor wanting what the rich have but can't have it, because they are considered forever as slaves to the Elites.View More
Parkfields overflowed with all breed of persons that not one could fathom how affluent they appeared to be. Boulevards were restricted; shopping parades, espresso bars, and city restaurants throughout Parkfields were shut down in the honour of every elite graduating. The ballroom was then occupied by every young beautiful women and men by 6 p.m. There was a soft music in the background, playing a 1930s classical song titled 'J'attendrai' by Rina Ketty. Hundreds of gentlemen dressed up in tuxedos and women in luxurious and inexquiste dresses from high society were seated around tables adorned with golden platters, having polite conversations, drinking and mirthful laughter from every corner filled the room . In the upper room, Charles sat on a chaise, wearing a well-fitting blue water tux jacket with a freshly white pressed shirt, a bow tie and polished black shoes. Standing beside him in navy blue tux, was Jackson. "This looks to me like a nuptial and it is as if I am waiting on
Sheila had by no means thought she would be raided by such an unexpected quantity of money in her whole life. Being charged to pay £625 was a nightmare, and what seemed to reign in her was to find a way to escape this dilemma, but how will she do that? She took a glance towards the exit, but there are two suave men footing at the entrance as if they were conducting the eatery; there were twosome dining at the corner of the entrance, they would only seemed to be interrupted from their passionate moment just to watch Sheila been chased. And there were passers-by; anyone could try to hold her down for pilfering. She had to think of another option. "Miss Sheila, the payment needs to be made as soon as possible. You're paying on cheque, cash or swiping?" Dennis asked serenely. Sheila's jaw had reached to the ground. Why in hell didn't this man notice she wasn't an elite, but a Proletarian? But, she knew she was in trouble, hell trouble. First, she had to find a way to escape this nightmar
The news about Charleston breaking up with Lucy Martinez was made known to everyone, but nobody knew the reasons behind the breakup, which Charles wanted it to be kept secreted. Parties, and unusual celebrations was held by every girl to celebrate Charleston's breakup, and they knew from any moment that the prince charming will be looking for a woman to marry since the presidential election will be held in two months. Probably, Charles had his countdown. About Charleston's graduation day, specifically wealthy people received an invitation. Some girls were misfortune because their life wasn't known much of fame but it was of second-rate; and to invite such girls wasn't luck. It was an early fresh morning, where the sun greeted the sky with its smile. Louisa sat on a bleacher, stretching her legs. Nadia and Bella joined her.
It's her again, the girl with red hair, smiling at him!It is the first time he find it a pleasant thing to sleep during the day just to see the mysterious redhead girl, and this time the dream was special to him. He saw her face, clearly! When she smiled up at him divinely, tiny dimples appeared on her cheeks, her skin was flawlessly snowy, her hair wasn't red like crimson, but it was the most rich of browns, flaming and fiery. Her eyes, oh yes, her blue eyes were like staring into a pool of kindness. Her perfect full-lips were fruity and gave him the urge to kiss her.When he felt a hand shaking his shoulder, he didn't want to open his eyes, but continues seeing those eyes staring at him, those lips curling into a smile. He cursed whoever had interrupted his dream.“Charles!&rd
Throwing the door room open, Charles vaulted himself to his bed. He was man enough, and he was not going to let a tear flow from his eyes. How devious, malicious Lucy was and he hated her as much as he had loved her. He hugged his pillow to his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw tightened, tears sting his eyes and his heart twisted that he almost felt it tear apart."Mr Spielberg, you called for me?" Constance said, bowing her head.He groaned, and took a deep breath. "What do you think, Constance? Do you think this is my fate?"Constance furrowed her brows in confusion. "What fate?"He turned to face her, his blue eyes soaked. "Lucy is married. She has a daughter and she's pregnant. She used me."
Charles sat down in his study, pondering about the meeting he had yesterday with the elders of Elites organisation. They had poured out their thoughts about what they thought of him for the presidential position, reasons could be because Icelanders adored him, and that was a good image for the country, and had graduated with a PhD in politics. The whole meeting was mostly spent of political leaders speaking of his achievements, and throwing him compliments after compliments. Charles was weary of hearing their praises, and felt that walking out of the boardroom would have been the best option, but the leaders would have spoke about his impulsive act, and his father, Donne Spielberg, would have had him on the throat. Earlier this autumn day, Bryan had asked him over to watch the netball game that was taking place later the day, but he d
CHAPTER 11: It was noon, and an exquisitely bright and clear spring day. Clumps of building and snatches of parks looked through the clouds like dim islands rising out of the sun arrays. Wallace was a market town, and verily was the opposite of Lowtown. Second-rate, who were considered to be neither rich or poor, but a middle-class people making a living in Wallace. Luckily for them, they were sometimes accepted to do what elites do. They could afford what they could, rather than the ploleterians. The rich, the second-rate and the poor lived very close together but they rarely visited each other's territory. The proletarians' quarters were sharply separated from the sections of the city reserved for the Elites and the middle-class, uncommunicating and opposed
Later that day, Charles sat alone at the large beautiful garden, paved with rose beds. Shutting his eyes as in the time of meditation, he heard footsteps next to him. "What is it that you wanted to tell me, Mr Hensworth?" Charles asked, the familiar of peachy scent penetrated his nostrils. "Have you come to tell me good news or bad news? If it's good news stay, if not, depart from here. My father has put me in enough stress." Alabaster Hensworth chuckled, shaking his head. "What if it's both good news or bad news?" Charles sighed. "What do you want?" "The interpretation of your dream," he said nonchalantly, "Do you want to hear it?" Charles fluttered his eyes open and g
Sheila sat on the bed with crossed legs, staring at the newsprint laying beside her. Her lips curved into a wide grin. "How can a man be this beautiful?" She giggled, tracing her fingers over the Charles's face on the newsprint. She reached out for a scissor, and deftly cut off his face, leaving Mr. Montero and Mr. Spielberg's. Taking up the piece of Charles face, she beamed holding it to her chest.The wooden door flew open and Michael stepped in. Sheila stagged the picture behind her back instantly.Michael planted his old traveling bag on the floor, sighing. His neck-length hair was disheveled and uncombed, sweat beaded his forehead, a shred of his grey shirt was ripped off. He looked as if he came from a clash. He turned to face his sister, his eyes tuning in different emotions of breaking down, or of glittering sadness.
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