Bridgerton Novels & Stories

“Miss Christine sure is delusional. Mr. Vincent is the Godfather of the Medici family. He’s worth billions. In New York, anyone with status treats him with the utmost respect.” “Isn’t he getting married to his fiancée in five days? And she’s saying he’s the love of her life? Does he even know who she is? Every Cinderella dreams of marrying into wealth, but not just anyone off the streets can be the Godfather’s woman.” I walked out of the hospital and, in a daze, got onto the subway. At that moment, my phone vibrated. When I checked it, I saw that Elena had sent several photos in a row. They were wedding photos of her and Vincent, taken in Central Park. The wedding dress she wore was the same

I looked up and felt my stomach drop. A woman walked in, tall and elegant in a designer dress that probably cost more than my monthly revenue. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, her entire presence screaming old money and privilege. She moved through the bookstore like she owned it, her critical gaze sweeping over the modest shelves and worn carpet. When her eyes landed on me, her red lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You must be Anastasia," she said, her voice smooth and cultured. "Christopher's little wife."

She was dressed in a crisp, sharp-collared long-sleeved shirt tucked into a perfectly ironed, professional short skirt that moved with her hurried pace. She didn't wait for an invitation, her heels clicking rapidly across the marble floor as she took in the scene of the spilled whiskey and the shattered television. "Sir!" she exclaimed, her voice tight with professional concern as she stopped before the wreckage. "Mr. Logan - is everything quite alright in here? I heard the crash from the hallway." Sebastian didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the blood dripping from his palm onto the white floor. "Does it look like anything is alright, Sonia?”

With a sharp huff, Cain turned and walked away, the crowd parting for him as he passed. Behind him, Vera lifted her glass. Orion met it with his own. They clinked them together, identical smirks stretching across their lips. And for the first time that night, Vera felt it fully— This was only the beginning. —— “Your dress is stealing the show, Ms. Vera,” Maya whispered beside her as they stood watching Didi and Cain stroll slowly down the aisle. The press were everywhere. Cameras flashed like lightning. Phones were raised high, people stretching on their toes just to get a better view of the bride and her gown. Vera overheard a group of women behind her murmuring breathlessly that they would

She'd told herself she could separate the mission from the ma# **THE CALCULATED BRIDE** ## **Chapter 4: The Inheritance** --- The Blackwell estate sat on fifteen acres in Connecticut, a monument to old money and older grudges. Isabella—still thinking of herself as Aria in these moments—watched through the car window as they approached. The mansion was Georgian Revival, all white columns and symmetrical windows, surrounded by manicured gardens that probably required a full-time staff. It was beautiful in the way museums were beautiful: perfect, untouchable, cold. "You're quiet," Damien observed from beside her. He'd insisted on driving himself rather than using his driver, one of the small re

The Billionaire Cheated Bride (Broken series book 2) by Diana Wolfe Elizabeth T. Sharma, a bastard of the rich and famous but bankrupt Carrington family was left with no other option but to marry one of the most wealthiest bachelor in America to save her late mother's foundation. She would never in a millions years imagine that her so called enemy turn fiancé would be a gorgeous mix blood with chiselled Greek feature and dimples to die for. Too bad his personality sucks.

I was literally a breath away from bawling. "This is marvelous, straight out of the Bridgerton series. You guys are giving Daphne and Simone vibes. I can literally hear him say 'I burn for you' for you by the way Jordan is looking at Mel." Luna remarked glaring at her camera. I couldn't help but wonder where she met this team of chatterboxes. Mel dropped my hand and took a deep breath before kicking her gown out of the way. A soft chuckle left my lips, but I quickly hid it behind my palm before facing the other way. Mel threw me a death glare, straightened up, and sucked in her breath.

I replied. “Mhm. Name one thing in this room prettier than me.” “The exit. Because you walked through it earlier.” She snorted. “That was so bad it circled back to being cute.” We walked out together, fingers brushing but not fully holding our public space compromise. Bridgerton isn’t exactly the place you start holding hands without looking around first. When we got outside, the sky was that deep evening purple that looks like a velvet cloth God accidentally dropped. Sienna squeezed my wrist gently. “You okay? You were quiet today.”

Confidently. Who is he? He is known by all as the eldest of the very handsome De'beuvor siblings, the mighty Crown Prince of the most respected kingdom in the east, Solterra, the kingdom of earth summoners. But to me, he is the man I love and I will forever love. He is Ares Demitri De'beuvor, the man I vowed to love till the end of time today, my love, my life, my husband. An inhuman growl from the outside echoed and fire boomed in the aisle that ran towards us, encircling me and Demitri but it didn't burn anything.

The smell of freshly cut flowers filled the air as she walked in. The music stopped, and all heads turned to face the far end of the walk. The opening to the bridal chorus started to play. Down the isle Claire came. There awaiting her was the Priest and her husband to be. Henry Laurent was stunning. He wore a black, single-breasted, satin tuxedo with a white-wing collar shirt. He was handsome, he looked like a young Justin Hartley with baby blue eyes. His face was emotionless, Claire doubted that he was even looking at her, he had such an expressionless face, she wondered what was going through his mind.