Chester Life Of Luxury Mga Nobela at Kwento

Three years ago, I signed my divorce papers with a trembling hand. Today, I watched Julian Thorne choke on his champagne. The Grand Astor Hotel glittered with chandeliers and hypocrisy. Every billionaire in the city had gathered for the "Philanthropy Gala," but no one here had ever donated a dime without a tax loophole. I stood near the balcony, a flute of sparkling water in my gloved hand, and I let my gaze drift to the man who had destroyed me.

Everyone did. One of the largest corporations in the country. Worth billions, maybe more. "What would someone like that be doing at a charity gala?" Chloe laughed. "Donating money, probably." I shook my head. People like Albert Craig existed in a world I'd only ever seen through television screens and magazine covers. A world of private jets and penthouses. A world where people probably spent more on dinner than I earned in a month. The thought was absurd. And yet... My eyes lingered on the name. Albert Craig.

“It’s an honor to serve you, Miss Cromwell.” "Cromwell, Miss Cromwell?!" "Could it be that Cromwell family?" "Which one?" "the Cromwell family in the capital, the richest of the rich. Who else could have the head chef of Caesar Hotel personally greeting them? You know, Caesar Hotel is owned by the Jenkins family." "Goodness!" The wealthy ladies who were having afternoon tea gasped, lowering their voices in astonishment. The girl seemed to embody everything they envied—diamonds, designer bags, and most of all, the aura of being pampered.

I'll just try the best that I can. The day has ended and it is time for the maids to rest. What makes this mansion very different is that each one of us have our own rooms, except when one isn't used to being alone. I don't mind being alone so I was given my own room. The room's actually big, this can even be compared to our living room. Is Mr. Bertrand really just a billionaire or much higher than that? Or is there such a thing?

" I was exasperated. Nicki knew that I came here for inspection purposes. Yet, she implied that I was messing around. I was so furious that I let out a chuckle. "Nicki, have you forgotten who owns this hotel? You dare talk to me like that?" Joseph covered his mouth as he laughed scornfully. "The hotel belongs to Ms. Surridge, of course. You can't possibly say that it's yours. "Ms. Surridge is rich, pretty, and capable. It's no surprise that she has many admirers. However, it's a really foolish move if one tries to cause a scene here while trying to catch her attention."

KHLOE’S POV Life at Felix’s mansion wasn’t easy going for me at all. My room was farther from Felix. I was keen on pretending to be his wife, the room was furnished with everything any woman wished to have. The wardrobe was filled with designer gowns, tailored plainsuits and different colourful couture pieces, the walk-in closets were lined with rows of designer's shoes and handbags of different paired with jewelries worth millions of dollars. Felix had a personal chef assigned to make my dishes, there were beauty and spa treatments whenever I wanted. All of these luxuries came alongside lots of abrupt rules and regulations from Felix.

The polished wood floors, the carefully curated art pieces, and the sheer expanse of the estate whispered opulence. Her gaze shifted as a tall figure emerged from the house, walking toward her with unhurried grace. Charles Sterling. His presence was magnetic, his tailored suit fitting him perfectly, exuding both power and charm. Though Chelsea had never met him in person, his face was unmistakable—etched into SGH’s corridors, websites, and every piece of media that featured the Sterling empire. "Chelsea," Charles said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "I trust my boy wasn’t too rough with you."

I didn’t ask for any of this, but clearly, someone—Bellion, no doubt—thought ahead. I unwrap the toothbrush and run it under the faucet, shaking my head to myself. I always thought of myself as fairly wealthy. My apartment was nice, my lifestyle comfortable. But this? The level of quiet, effortless luxury that surrounds Alex Carter is on an entirely different scale. Everything in this house—from the sleek furniture to the butler who moves with practiced elegance—screams money. Not the kind that needs to be flaunted, but the kind that runs deep. Just how wealthy is Alex?

Was it pitifulness or a proclivity of warmth for his unsullied PA, Charles had no idea but he felt a shielding stance for the unblemished girl. After work Charles ordered Aliza to get ready. That night he took her to Regency, the fanciest restaurant in the city that he owns. Apart from being the mafia leader and the Alpha billionaire Charles owns a series of pubs, casinos, hotels and restaurants in the city. Yesterday night he had to take Aliza to Rutherford's club because he was bound by a business meeting. Charles couldn't afford to lose his eyes on his innocent PA to add insult to an injury on a foreign land.