Nouvelles CEO Feel-Good Story & Romans

On our fifth dating anniversary, my boyfriend, Luke Bolton, gives me a cheap bracelet worth less than a hundred dollars. On the same night, he splurges ten million dollars on a yacht for his first love, Cindy Gale. I refuse to accept this, and he accuses me of making a scene. "I gave Cindy that gift to boost the company's stock price, not because I still have feelings for her," he says. "You're poor, and I still promised to marry you. Isn't that enough? This was actually your last test, Elisa Gray, but you failed it." I break up with him, and he immediately proposes to Cindy. Five years after that, we meet again at a luxury hotel during a business summit. His company is about to become an industry giant, and Cindy is holding onto his arm. When he sees me, I'm standing in a fountain, all drenched and disheveled. "Elisa," Luke sneers. "When you turned me down back then, did it ever cross your mind that you might end up worse than a homeless person? "Don't think acting pitiful here will make me feel sorry and take you back." I ignore him. My son's cherished blue diamond was a birthday gift from his father, and he accidentally dropped it into the fountain. He's so upset that he's about to cry, and I have to find it right away.

Everyone in our circle knew I had always been obsessed with Daniel Rothman. I followed whatever he did—went to school, learnt eight different languages, studied finance. After all, the Rothmans and Fosters were destined to merge through marriage—our intertwined business empires depended on it. However, on our wedding day, Daniel flew overseas to rescue his crush in distress. Our childhood bond, once the envy of everyone, became the biggest joke of all. There I was, wearing a wedding dress worth millions, standing alone as I completed the grand ceremony by myself. The headlines were everywhere. For the first time, my name came before his in the news. How foolish. Men were a dime a dozen. But there was only one well-established business empire. I did not just want his body. I wanted his money, too.

The day Arthur Reed and I signed our divorce papers, his stepsister, Chloe Bennett, watched me with red-rimmed eyes. "Lilith, I'm sorry. Once I get better, I'll step aside and give Arthur back to you. You have to believe me." I could recite that apology in my sleep. Whenever Chloe cried, Arthur gave in. To keep his depressed stepsister happy, he would put another set of divorce papers in front of me. We had married four times and divorced four times. Everyone praised Arthur as a caring brother, while I was the one who had to suffer for it. Every time the paperwork was done, Arthur would kiss my cheek and say, "It's just a piece of paper. It's temporary. Once Chloe is stable, we'll remarry. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." I believed him. I kept waiting for him to come back to me. Then last month, I was rushed to the hospital after a car accident. The doctors needed my emergency contact before they could operate. I called Arthur. He sounded annoyed. "Chloe's in a terrible state right now. She needs me. You're so strong. Can't you look after yourself?" So today, when he put the divorce papers in front of me for the fifth time to calm Chloe down, I signed without hesitating. Arthur assumed I would do what I had done the other four times and go home to wait for him to marry me again. He was wrong. This time, I meant it. He would lose both me and his fortune!

It's my husband, Niall Luther's birthday. I take my son to the hospital to visit Niall since he's working late; I want to surprise him. However, we get into an accident on the way there. When I rush to the hospital with my bloodied son in my arms, I see Niall holding his first love's daughter. He coos at her and says, "This might be a small wound, but there's a risk of infection if it isn't handled well!" His first love, Chelsea Blanc, gives him a chiding look. "You treat Lulu so well that I'm getting jealous." Niall wraps an arm around her. "It's only because I love you. You're the one I love the most." I pull out my phone and call him. He keeps his arm around Lulu White and rejects my call. So, I text him, telling him our son is injured and has been taken to the hospital where he works. I tell him he needs to attend to our son. However, he berates me for lying. I have no choice but to take my son elsewhere for treatment. Before leaving, I see Niall kiss Chelsea tenderly and tell her he wants to take her to an amusement park. That's when I know he and I are over.

The housekeeper deliberately reveals her busty chest when I'm out of the house. She says coquettishly to my husband, "Oh, my. This is an accident, Mr. Houston …" My husband looks like he's focusing on his drink, but he keeps sneaking looks at her. I see all of this from the housekeeper's livestream.

Starla Xander was orphaned at a young age. With both her parents gone, it was her uncle, Xavier Lloyd, who rescued her from that hopeless home. For over a decade, he had cherished her, shielding her from the world, treating her like the most precious gem in his life. And so, inevitably, she fell in love with him. She truly believed he loved her too. She thought that one day, they would get married and build a future together. But when Starla finally confessed her feelings, Xavier reacted as if she had crossed an unforgivable line. “Starla, I’m your uncle. Get rid of those disgusting thoughts!” And that wasn’t even the cruelest part. He chose the most brutal way to reject her. On the twelfth anniversary of the day they met, he stood before her with a beautiful woman by his side. He met Starla’s eyes and said, “Meet her. She’s your future aunt-in-law.” As she watched them standing together—so effortlessly close—something inside her shattered. She let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I understand now.” Without another word, she turned away, pulled out her phone, and called her research mentor. “Professor Zimmer, I’ve made my decision. I agree to the cryogenic preservation procedure.”

I was anonymously reported for fraudulent credit card use and arrested. The victim turned out to be my own husband. I pulled out my phone to show them our marriage certificate to prove my innocence, but the police officer frowned as he looked at me. "Ma'am, the Lucas Richardson on this certificate is not your husband. You're still unmarried." I could not believe it and asked the officer to check again immediately. He looked at me with sympathy, but quickly spoke again, "Our records show that Lucas Richardson's spouse is Vivian Clarke and that they have a three-year-old child together. Ma'am, if you cannot prove your relationship with him, you will face criminal detention." I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Six years ago, Lucas had a secretary named Vivian who was obsessively in love with him. On the day Lucas and I got married, she caused a scene and threatened suicide. In the end, he had to personally handle the situation for three days before coming home. It turned out that his solution was to marry Vivian instead.

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

For eight years, I was James Carter's secretary and secret lover. Eight years of giving him my heart completely. I truly believed he loved me back - he was always tender and attentive when we were intimate, seemingly caring about my every need and desire. But then I overheard him telling others, "She's nothing but a stand-in, just someone to satisfy my physical needs when I'm bored. Did you really think I would marry her?" In that moment, I finally found the strength to let go and stop loving him. I handed in my resignation and walked away from it all. Yet after my whirlwind marriage to someone else, why did he suddenly start searching for me desperately across the city? Now he's here with tears in his eyes, claiming I'm the one he truly loves? Wasn't I just his convenient replacement all along?

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

During my three-year secretive relationship with my boss, Zane Bender, we used 999 condoms. Before Zane dated me, he'd go through 20 partners per month. After he started dating me, he only bedded me and me only. He promised me that he'd give me a surprise on my birthday. I thought it was going to be a grand proposal. But the moment the clock struck 12, Zane called me. "Cassidy, buy a pack of condoms and deliver it to the 31st floor of Mavelon Hotel right now. Remember, I want the extra thin ones." At that moment, I couldn't believe my ears. Before I could react, Zane completely lost his patience. He urged, "Stop standing around! Hurry up and get over here! Lily and I are in the mood right now!" Lily Hubbard was the charming secretary who recently joined the company. My complexion turned pale instantly. "You're sleeping with her, Zane? Then… Then who am I to you?" Zane fell silent for a while. Then, he let out a soft chuckle. "You? You're just a bedwarmer who can help alleviate my urges. That's all." It turned out that the so-called surprise wasn't a proposal. It was just me fantasizing about a relationship that never existed in the first place. The pink bubbles of love and romance finally popped on my 25th birthday. After that, a car accident completely changed everything in my life. When I meet Zane again, he realizes that he can no longer win back the heart of his "pet".

On the seventh Christmas of our marriage, my husband, Alan Seaton, who worked in France, finally agreed to let me visit him. That was when I learned he wasn't renting some basement apartment at all. He had bought a spacious three-bedroom apartment. His mother, Maria Seaton, had the primary bedroom. He slept in the second, and the third had been turned into a pink princess room for his mother's goddaughter, Daisy. Even Daisy's dog had a climate-controlled kennel on the balcony. When he caught me staring at the kennel, Alan laughed and patted Daisy on the head. "You treat that dog better than your own mother. You insisted he couldn't suffer, so you even had radiant floor heating installed for him." I stared at the border collie eating imported beef in his kennel, and something inside me broke. For a moment, I had no idea what to say to Alan. Should I tell him that I had worked three jobs to fund his business overseas and that when I had a fever, I could only afford expired acetaminophen? Or that I had lived on sandwiches until a bleeding ulcer made me pass out in my rented room? Before I could decide, Alan pulled me over to the dining table. "You haven't worked in Texas in years anyway. Why don't you sell your house there and move here to take care of my mom? You can look after Daisy's dog too." He had no idea I had sold that house in Texas years ago to clean up the mess he had left behind. Nor did he know that I was the real owner of the multinational company he worked for.

I fall for Asher Kline, the son of Mom and Dad's sworn enemy, and chase him for three years. When we finally start dating, our private life becomes full of debauchery. From tents and luxury cars to lounges and studies, any place that offers privacy and a thrill becomes ours. We push into every advanced position we can manage, filming plenty of steamy videos along the way. Then one day, I overhear him chatting with his best friend. "Aren't you taking it too far, using Rhea to get back at her parents? Maybe you should drop it and find another way." "No. I'm sticking with it. When the time comes, I'll leak those videos of us. Those two old farts will be so furious that they'll choke on their own rage. That's exactly what I want." "But you've been with her so long. Don't you feel anything for her?" "No. I only approached her to get revenge and destroy her family's company." I'm crushed when I realize his so-called love is filled with nothing but payback and scheming. But when I walk away and am about to marry someone else, he falls apart and begs me to forgive him.

During the holiday, I come across the wedding announcement of my son, Howard Miller, online while recuperating overseas. To my shock, his fiancee is a woman in her 60s! I rush home immediately, only to find that my adopted daughters are gathered around my adopted son, William Miller, and fussing over him. When they see me, they each have something to say. "Ethan, Howard says he likes older women. We've tried talking him out of it, but he won't listen." "Don't worry, Ethan. After Howard marries Ms. Holloway and joins her family as a live-in son-in-law, we'll help him manage all of the Miller family's businesses." "No matter which one of us William chooses to marry in the end, we'll respect it. The most important thing is to produce an heir for the Miller family to carry on the bloodline." As I look at Howard, who is already numb from all the torment, my entire body trembles with rage. The young women who are supposed to become my future daughter-in-law think they can steal everything away from my son. Dream on!

At the family meeting, my mafia Don husband spared his secretary one glance. I turned and walked away, canceled our wedding anniversary celebration, and decided I was done with him. I signed my name on the divorce papers I had prepared long ago. When Matteo Santoro saw the agreement, he called me at once, his voice tight with restrained anger. "What are you trying to pull this time? Is this really because I looked at Elena?" "Yes," I said. "Because you looked at her."

An intern started reforming the workplace and made an example of me. My CEO girlfriend, who claimed to love me more than life itself, said she would defend me by setting up an elaborate trap to destroy him. She demoted me from VP and promoted him instead. She bought the intern a luxury car and a mansion as his dorm. She said it was all part of the trap and begged me to be patient. Then my sister's heart condition worsened and she needed emergency surgery. I asked my girlfriend for a salary advance to cover the costs, and she agreed without hesitation. On the day of the surgery, I waited at the hospital from dawn to dusk. The money never came. All I got was a mocking post from the intern on social media. "My CEO's way too nice. Some employee tried hitting her up for a salary advance today. What if he just takes the money and bails? So I rejected it. "P.S. If you're gonna scam someone, at least make it believable." My sister died without treatment. Only then did my girlfriend finally call. "Don't be upset. Anna's surgery can wait a few more days. I'm playing the long game. "I'm building Lincoln up so high that when he falls, it'll destroy him completely. His birthday's coming up and I'll make sure he loses everything then. After that, we'll have that wedding you've been waiting for. Anna would love that." However, I had figured it out by now. The trap was just an excuse for favoritism. I was done with her.

"Ms. Medici, you've officially purchased the island. It's completely off the grid—once you're in, no one can find you. Also, the custom-made family you requested is ready. They're professionally trained to give you nothing but unconditional love."

There were two notorious losers in the high society. One was me, Olivia Corsetti, a spoiled brat whose only real skill was swiping a credit card. The other was my childhood sweetheart, Arthur Pembroke, an old-money heir with severe autism and congenital heart failure. But my oldest brother, Vito Corsetti, was the mafia Don who ruled the underworld, while my other brother, Leon Corsetti, was a Wall Street shark with a hundred billion dollars at his command. Arthur's two older sisters were just as formidable: Sophia Pembroke, the country's top federal prosecutor with a perfect record, and Chloe Pembroke, an elite surgeon famous for pulling patients back from the brink of death. One day, the four of them got together and came up with a plan. "Taking care of one loser is no different from taking care of two. Let's pair them up. It'll be less work for everyone." So Arthur and I went straight to a church and exchanged vows. After the wedding, we charged everything to Leon's black card, ate and drank for free at Vito's casinos, and waited for Arthur's sisters to bring us food every few days. That lasted until Vito sent us to a charity gala in Manhattan in his place. There, heiress Isabella Harrington took one look at a blurry photo taken from behind and decided I was the woman sleeping with her fiancé. I explained, "You've got the wrong person. I'm married. This is my husband." She tried to slap me anyway. Arthur instinctively stepped in front of me and took the blow. His lip split, and blood welled up at once. Isabella sneered, "What, are you an idiot too? Your wife's sleeping with other men behind your back, and you're still protecting her? "Get them both!" Several bodyguards lunged at us. I wiped the blood from Arthur's lip and called Vito. "Vito, someone's picking on me." But there was one thing they didn't know. Cross those four heavy hitters, and all you'd get was bankruptcy and prison. But cross the two of us losers, and you'd pay with your life.

When Dylan Sullivan took a new type of hallucinogen, I was forced to give myself to him to curb the effects. Innately fertile, I got pregnant, giving birth to fraternal twins—a boy and a girl—after marrying him. However, Dylan refused to let them call him daddy, drinking away the nights while staring at the picture of his one true love. Then, on our tenth anniversary, he locked us up in the basement and burnt us to death. As it turns out, he remained hung up on that moment when I saved him all this time, stubbornly convinced I intervened when he was vulnerable to satisfy my ambitions. That in turn drove a rift between himself and his one true love, whose heartbreak led to psychosis and the accident that killed her. But I somehow opened my eyes to find myself alive, returning to the day Dylan took the hallucinogen by mistake. This time, I let his one true love have him, while I headed towards the study…

I'm having a mental breakdown as I face a clogged drain with my feverish and fussing daughter in my arms. Meanwhile, my husband has reserved a hotel to celebrate another woman's birthday. My mother-in-law spits on the floor. "This is what you deserve. You can't even capture a man's heart!" I clench a fist around the winning lottery ticket in my pocket. I want to get a divorce.