Beatrice Bartoni Novels & Stories

She demanded, before she showed her palm to him, indicating that he should give her the documents in his hands. “Wait, what?”. Theodore exclaimed. ‘This young lady is a weirdo. Because, why would she want me to give her my certificate?’. He couldn't help but wonder. Beatrice saw that Theodore was gradually backing away, causing her to understand the thoughts in his mind. She sighed almost as if she was uninterested in the way he was retreating from her. Before Theodore could leave her side, she snatched the certificate he was holding in his hand. “Hey, young miss! What do you think you are doing with my certificate? Return it to me at once”. Theodore tried to snatch his certificate from Beat

Beatrice Vane was a name whispered in the dark corners of Wall Street—the elder sister Julian had never mentioned, the one who had been scrubbed from the family records after a scandal that nearly collapsed the New York Stock Exchange in the late nineties. While Silas Thorne had been a blunt instrument of corporate power, Beatrice was a scalpel. She didn't destroy companies; she hollowed them out from the inside until they collapsed under their own weight.

And her minions, always lurking behind her like shadows, trailing after her like perfume and lies. I stiffened immediately, my spoon pausing mid-air. Liam’s eyes flicked up toward the door, and his entire posture changed—relaxed, but alert. “Well, well,” Beatrice’s voice sang out as she approached our table. “If it isn’t Zara. Eating ice cream like a real girl. Didn’t know sarcasm had calories.” I didn’t look up. Didn’t flinch. I’d heard worse from her. I focused on my dessert. Beatrice didn’t like being ignored.

— Luciana knew that they were talking about the little girl. —Well, that makes me very happy, I think you already know most of them, so before starting the meeting, I'm going to introduce you to my beautiful daughter, the person in charge of the company, Luciana Brown, honey, this is Santiago O 'Brien — Santiago smiled as he finally knew who the beautiful woman was and extended his hand.

“You here to gloat, or do you actually have something useful to say?” Beatrice let out a soft chuckle, sipping her Bordeaux. “I just got back from a brand endorsement gig overseas. Thought I’d dip my toes into the entertainment industry—something a little more permanent. Whitney’s drama just started shooting, right? Here's an idea: we work together. I’ll step in, snag a key role with her. Then we hit her reputation, and once she crashes, Serena’s company will follow.” She set her wineglass down with a delicate clink, eyes gleaming with calculated ambition.

“No. I’m just playing my part.” “Oh,” said Joshua, laughing at his mother’s bubbling excitement. Vicky looked around her for familiar faces. Then suddenly she sees someone she knew from high school. “Oh, hi Beatrice,” said Vicky. She was running to see her old classmate. Beatrice Miller is well known for her famous clothes and fashion designs. She was one of the legendary fashion designers. She is also in charge of many runaway projects and jewelry design. Some of her works are displayed in museums for people all over the world to see and admire.

It was a very huge store, with a million dresses, it smelt of fresh roses and pastry. “good day ladies” a tall lady greeted us the moment we walked into the store, she wore a suit and had a pair of spectacles hanging off her nose. “Miss Romero” she added with a smile. “and you must be miss Santiago, Romans fiance”. I smiled at her. It was funny though that her store was named after my fathers name.

He proudly stated. The three suddenly got stunned and it seems like they have swallowed their tongue for a moment after hearing her name. "D-Don't tell me she is the same Bea Watson we knew? The nerdy pathetic cousin of Elena who used to have a crush on---" Julie suddenly stopped talking when Thyago cut her off. "Are you familiar with Wattson Interior Firm?" He stated. "You mean she is Beatrice Wattson, the famous interior designer who owns that firm?" Claire surprisingly uttered as the man beside him was still in shock.

"And I’ll run the winery, because Leo doesn't know the difference between a Sangiovese and grape juice." Beatrice, now nearly ten, sat at a wooden table with a sketchpad. She had Caro’s fire and Alessandro’s unwavering focus. She was the heart of the farm, a girl who knew every vine by name and every secret of the soil. The screen door creaked open, and Caro stepped out. She looked at her family, and the breath caught in her throat, just as it did every single day. She walked over to Alessandro, sliding her arm around his waist. He pulled her flush against his side, his hand resting on her hip in the possessive, grounding way that had never changed.