Novel & Cerita A Caribbean Heiress In Paris

---------- In the bustling city somewhere in America, Phoebe is seated inside the Starbucks quietly enjoying her coffee. "Have you heard? The Beischel's Heiress is actually the reason why the well known Nikholas Fairbourne suddenly disappeared." Phoebe was about to take a sip in her cappuccino when a woman's voice from the table behind her stopped her midway. With the mention of that familiar name, her heart actually beat erratically. "What do you mean?" another woman's voice. "Well, can you believe it? He was actually engaged with the young Beischel, but the heiress suddenly ran away. He must've been so heartbroken and humiliated that he hid from public." the first one once again gossiped.

For two long years, Vivienne believed she was the legally wedded Mrs. Montemayor. To be the perfect, submissive wife Ethan needed, she endured the cold stares of high society and swallowed the endless humiliations from his elitist family. She loved him with everything she had, believing his promise that they would eventually accept her. ​Until she accidentally tore their marriage certificate. ​When Vivienne went to the city hall for a certified replacement, her entire world collapsed. There was no record of their marriage. The document was a complete fake. The man she called her husband had trapped her in a beautifully constructed lie, using her to secure his grandfather’s massive inhe

He declared in a deep voice and Cara lowered her head, wiping a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. “You’ve only one choice. Submit to me!” As he spoke, she felt a shiver run down her spine at the deep resonance of his voice. Cara lifted her gaze to him, and her gloomy hazel eyes met with intriguing grey eyes. *** Where would this forbidden relationship take them? What led the heiress of the most powerful business empire to live under the identity of a deceased girl? Will the hidden heiress ever regain her rightful identity? Who will be Cara’s savior?

‘Hell, this just wasn’t what I needed…’ Nikolas whispered, looking at the wonderful, naked woman lying in his bed. His mother announced to him that she had found him another potential wife. She was a brand-new heiress and a Greek one. Her name was Karisa Castellanos. Her brother, Mixalis, had just been disinherited by their grandfather, and Karisa had been pronounced the sole Castellanos heiress.

Bianca said, standing up from her seat. She had narrated everything to Carl including how she was made the heiress of a grandfather's company instead of her father and how her dad had intentionally tampered with the brakes of the car to set them up for an accident. Leah had also narrated how Dean contacted her to be Bianca’s personal guard even in Italy and how being legitimately married with someone eligible would be the saving grace for Bianca, but right now Carl really wouldn’t hear of that. “So you want me to come in and act like her husband?” Carl asked, seeming confused.

He didn't look homeless, and one can tell from one glance that he is well-read. The truth is I was not finding any of his questions funny as I felt miserable and pained from all the embarrassment I had earlier encountered. I pulled down my shirt for him to see out of annoyance. “Here it is sir, it is a fucking birthmark and I hate it, I will gladly give you if you want it," I said in frustration. “I'm so sorry to bother you my lady, but I happen to come from London, and this mark of yours is a mark that is mostly associated with the royal family, I think if that mark is real, that you may be a princess,” he said, looking surprised at his own words.

Jasper blurted, confusion growing. Darius pointed to the photo of Estelle and Sylvie. "One of them is an heiress from the Imperia elite circle. The other is the mayor's daughter. None of you can afford to anger any of them." Sharp inhales filled the room. The laughter died instantly. A chill ran through the group. No one had imagined two beautiful women could carry that kind of weight. There was certainly an air of refinement about them. They were not women, mere heirs like these men could lust over.

The luxurious penthouse overlooking the glittering Eiffel Tower was bathed in soft golden light from crystal chandeliers. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the iconic monument sparkling against the Paris night sky. The air carried the faint scent of expensive perfume, polished marble, and the distant aroma of rain on Parisian rooftops. Genevieve Laurent, a 24-year-old French heiress, stood trembling in the center of the living room wearing only a sheer black negligee, her heart hammering with dark, shameful anticipation.

At that moment, she felt the ground should open and swallow her. She had never been embarrassed all her whole life. She lifted her head up and when her eyes came in contact with his, her fists clenched. His gaze was mocking and intimidating and if she didn’t need his help, she would have mocked him with words. “What’s all this fuss for by the way?” She asked, pointing at the helicopters. “Don’t want to be caught in traffic.” As Harry replied, his gaze was fixed on his Patek Philippe grandmaster chime wrist. “How can I help you, Mrs Zara? I can’t waste another minute standing here with you.”

To be honest, I don't even know why I'm this drawn to her, I just have this gut that she's a nice person and somehow, it felt like I knew her from somewhere. With Bernard and Asher taking the front seat, and Charlotte and I taking the back seat, we all got busy with talks. Ben and Asher won't stop talking about work while Charlotte and I talked about our personal life. Our childhood experience— just the happy memories though. I couldn't talk about my bad experience. It was just like opening a closed wound. I got to know that she's the heiress of the Flair's family. They're also one of the powerful and prominent billionaires here in America. She's her parent's only daughter and also a doctor