Chipettes Eleanor の小説・ストーリー

!R18+ Contains matured content. Viewers Discretion is advised.! "Do you, perhaps, have a wife or a fiance at home?" I inquired. He blinked at me once before he shook his head negatively. "Oh great! This is great." I mumbled and my eyes looked to his navy blue Armani Suit and with a nod, I added, "Your outfit is perfect as well." "Perfect for what?" He asked. "A wedding. We're getting married. Let's get married." "What?" ••• What would you do when, on your wedding day, you find your so-called fiance in his dressing room with his manhood buried deep in between another woman's thigh? Call off the wedding and leave, right? That's when you're free to make your own decisions though. It's not the same for Avery Roosevelt, the hidden heiress of The Roosevelts. This, however, is the sticky situation she finds herself in. Livid with anger, she grabs the first man in front of the hotel reception and proposes marriage to him. But when she finally discovers the man she had proposed marriage to was the CEO of the company her Family has been in rivalry with for ages? And when the secret behind her birth is revealed to the world? Would her husband stand by her or let her go? And when another secret is unveiled to the couple? A secret that depended on their future together. Would they drift apart or would love prevail? "Hubby, I slapped Eleanor Roosevelt for badmouthing you. Did I do wrong?" "Of course not. Let me see your wrist... Does it hurt you?" "Hubby, I cursed at the wife of your business partner for calling me a b*tch." "It's fine. I don't plan on working with them anyway." "Hubby..." •••

After I remarry my wife, Vivian Crowell, I decide to rent her out to other men. When her male best friend, Elliot Everhart, summons her away from me, I no longer kick up a fuss about it. Instead, I charge Vivian by the hour. The rent is 10 thousand dollars per hour during the day, whereas it'll be 20 thousand dollars per hour at night. If it's a holiday, all prices will be tripled. After running my new business for three months, I now have an additional 20 million dollars in my account. Although Vivian has promised to pick out my suit for the banquet with me, Elliot calls her and complains about how he's nicked his finger with a knife when he was cutting vegetables. I don't even bother raising my head as I hand my bank account number over to Vivian. One midnight, I suddenly suffer from a fever. When Vivian is driving me to the hospital, Elliot calls her and claims that he can't sleep due to discomfort caused by his intoxication. I merely pull out my umbrella fluently and tell Vivian to drop me off at the junction ahead. Upon noticing her hesitation, I just smile at her. "Don't forget to transfer the payment to me." On the day our son, Victor Carrington, is going for his regular follow-up appointment, Elliot calls Vivian once again. "Eleanor wants to go to the amusement park. It'll only be fun when we have a woman to accompany us there." After Vivian ends the call, she turns around and is about to crouch down to explain everything to Victor when she sees him mimicking my actions by sticking out his hand at her. "It's fine, Mommy. You can just pay us. But today's rate is the triple kind."

As the price of gold soars, my late mother, Eleanor Hutchinson, appears to me in my dream. She tells me she has left a gold bangle on my nightstand. If I wear them, they'll bring me wealth and bless the child I'm carrying. But after I find the bangle, I give it to the rabid dog the neighbors keep locked up. In my previous life, my younger sister, Irene Owens, and I marry two brothers and become pregnant at the same time. During a prenatal checkup, the doctor says Irene's baby appears to have severe birth defects and recommends terminating the pregnancy. She doesn't take it seriously at all. That very day, Mom comes to me in my dream, and I find the gold bangle on my bedside table. After I tell Irene about it, she slips the bangle onto my wrists. She says, "You always say Mom favors me. But after she dies, you're the first person she thinks of and approaches. Just wear them." I do exactly as she says and never take the bangle off. But on the day we give birth, Irene delivers a healthy baby boy with rosy cheeks and a loud, vigorous cry. My baby, however, is born with two sets of reproductive organs. The child isn't breathing the moment it's delivered. Before this, every prenatal exam has shown that my baby is healthy. I realize Irene and the bangle must have something to do with it. The sight of my horribly deformed baby drives me insane. In a fit of rage, I dig up Mom's grave and confront Irene. "Why does Mom keep paving the way for you even after she's dead?" She has me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I waste away in despair until I die. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Mom first appears in my dream.

My fiancé presented two engagement rings—one for me, one for my sister to choose first. The first was a three-carat fancy pink diamond, flown in from Antwerp, the kind that made dealers go quiet. The second was a plain platinum band, standard issue, the sort you buy off the tray as a backup. For the first time in my life, I pointed at the pink diamond. "I'll choose first this time." Dante Moretti ran his hand through my hair, the way you soothe a restless dog. "Eleanor, you know Grace has always been particular. If she can't have the best, she'd rather have nothing. You've never cared about any of this. The other one is fine." I didn't answer. My chest felt hollow. We'd grown up together—his father ran the West Coast territory, mine the East. But in Dante's eyes, I'd always been the second daughter, the one who got what Grace didn't want. Every summer, he'd cut watermelon and bring the first plate to Grace. She'd take the center slice—sweetest, seedless, deepest red. He'd push the rest toward me—the pale pink near the rind. "This part's still good. Just not as sweet." When he bought his first Maserati, Grace picked the front seat—less motion sickness. He gestured at the back. "A little tight, but you can pick either side." Even our love was secondhand. He'd loved Grace first. She chose her academic career over him. So Dante, wounded and restless, came to me. In his world, Grace was always the first choice. I looked at the platinum band and pushed it across the table. "Give them both to Grace. I don't want either."

My mother, Eleanor Leigh, is pregnant with fraternal twins, but we aren't developing well. The doctor recommends terminating my younger sister, Juliette Vance, whose chances of survival are slim. Since Dad, Thomas Vance, suffers from azoospermia and can never have children again, I, Julian Vance, become the pampered, only child of the family. For my first birthday celebration, Mom and Dad gift me a house and a vehicle. Every day, they dress me up like a porcelain doll and specifically enroll me in ballet classes to elevate my poise. They even carry me everywhere I go, terrified that I might fall and end up with a scar. I only learn I'm a boy in elementary school when I get laughed at for entering the girls' restroom, and later learn it in a science lesson. Because of my classmates' constant bullying, I break down in tears, begging Mom not to make me wear dresses anymore. However, she, who is usually so gentle with me, suddenly flies into a rage and slaps me hard across the face right in the middle of the street. "What's going to happen to your sister if you don't wear dresses? It's your fault for being born a jinx! You killed your sister! "If you hadn't stolen her nutrients, she would be alive and well right now! Our family business would be booming as well. You'll either be our daughter for the rest of your life, or you can go to hell right this instant!" It turns out Juliette and I are the children Mom and Dad begged the heavens for, and while Juliette's a lucky charm, I'm a jinx. I wear long hair and dresses because I'm Juliette's body double. I sprint away in tears, only to be sent flying by a car running a red light. As my consciousness slips away, I wish with all my heart to go back to when Mom first found out she was pregnant. This time, I'll be the one to be reduced.

My mother, Eleanor Thorne, dropped out of school at a young age to work, single-handedly raising my uncle, Logan Thorne, all on her own. Because of that bond, right before she passed away from a severe illness, she tightly held Logan’s hand and entrusted me to his care, begging him to look after me. With bloodshot eyes, Uncle Logan swore right beside her hospital bed that he would never let a single soul lay a finger on me for the rest of his life. When I was seven years old, my biological father, Richard Jennings, was preparing to remarry, and he muttered a cruel comment under his breath, calling me a piece of useless baggage. The next second, Logan smashed a glass bottle right over his head. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to my little girl like that?" he roared. "Keep running your mouth, and I will personally ruin you!" Before his head wounds could even fully heal, Richard literally checked himself out of the hospital and fled the city, never daring to show his face around us again. During my high school years, a boy cornered me on the way home to force a love letter into my hands, which completely terrified me. Logan flew into an absolute rage. That very afternoon, he brought a crew and broke the boy's leg. That act invited a violent retaliation. Logan was targeted in a brutal hit-and-run and left for dead on the asphalt. He spent three grueling days fighting for his life in the ICU before the doctors finally pulled him back from the brink. Yet, the exact moment he was discharged from the hospital, he tracked that student down again and beat him within an inch of his life. I was utterly horrified. Desperate to prevent my uncle from hurting anyone else on my account, I, Maisie Thorne, secretly applied to a university overseas without telling him, leaving the country for three long years. On the eve of Logan’s wedding, he personally flew out on a private jet to pick me up and bring me back home. That night, we sat down to have a quiet dinner together. But the night took a twisted turn when his fiancée mistook me for a hidden mistress. "So, you're the little obsession my husband can't seem to stop thinking about," Victoria Vane sneered, glaring at me. "I’ve heard all about the mysterious girl locked away in his private thoughts. Let's see how much sleeping around you can do once I strip that pretty little face right off your head, Maisie Thorne!"