Chester Life Of Luxury Novels & Stories

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.

“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?

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.

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.

Michelle says drolly. I snort into my coffee. "Come on, Chelle, you are always being wined and dined." Michelle is twenty-five and drop-dead gorgeous. It also helps that she comes from minor aristocracy so spends her weekends with people called Alistair and Kiki. She never has a shortage of gorgeous, available, well-bred men whisking her off to the opera in Covent Garden or taking her away for minibreaks in the Cotswolds.

Gradually, I started to mingle with the upper echelons of society. The nation's elites had gathered for an expensive gala at the famed LuxorLuxe Vista Hotel, a symbol of wealth and excess in the center of the metropolis. The hotel's status as a meeting place for the city's elite made it an ideal setting for this highly anticipated event, known for its extravagance and exclusivity, attended by the country's wealthiest and most influential figures.

She's elegant and beautiful, with a grace that comes from old wealth and confidence. "Ms Hale. Introduce me to your youth elixir dealer sometime." She laughs, a polite, mirthless sound. "I take it you've met my Allera?" "She's lovely. Your tales didn't do justice to her beauty." "Some things are better witnessed in person. I take it you're here for an answer to your proposal?" Straight to the point. As usual. "There's only so far stubbornness can take a person, Ms Hale. Especially in the business world."

# Chapter Fifteen: Family Dinner Weston Cade's townhouse in the Upper East Side was the kind of beautiful that announced itself immediately and aggressively — antique furniture arranged with museum precision, a chandelier that had probably cost more than Ivy's entire restaurant business plan, and a housekeeper who took Ivy's coat with the practiced neutrality of someone paid handsomely not to have opinions about the guests.