Chronicles Of An Aristocrat Novels & Stories

I wore a facemask, hiding from watchful eyes, and for the first time, I told her everything—about Simon, about the marriage that had nearly destroyed me, about the lies spun so tightly I couldn’t breathe. She listened, eyes blazing with outrage. “That’s it. Never trust those rich assholes. They’re always hiding something—cheaters, liars, psychos. There’s always something rotten.” I laughed weakly. “I was rich once, remember? And I wasn’t any of those things.” “You,” she said firmly, “were the rare exception. And that’s why you have Ajax. He’s proof of the good in you.” She reached over to pat his head. “That boy is pure blessing.”

Her chest throbbed faster, and she exchanged glances with Rohan because she didn't know how to answer it. “Ho-honey come on. She still has a lot to do.” Rohan grabbed his wife's hand, but she just let him go. Nadia smiled sarcastically as she clung to the girl's arm. “Patrice, what do you think of my husband?” she said that they were both surprised. Baron stopped wiping and turned his attention to about the three. “OMG. It's just like a drama series in TV.” Leon was amazed. The young man smiled as he watched Rohan's nervous face.

“How should I bloody know? I’m all the way in Her Royal Majesty’s Great Britain while he spends his time in France, mate. You can’t possibly think he’s gonna tell me his every dirty little secret, right? …Wait a minute, what’s going on? Did you uncover something juicy? Or… No way! Don’t tell me you really think our parents adopted him just to groom him into marrying you! He’s the golden kid of the ‘Noble House of Tremont’, darling! Who are we peasants to groom such a royalty into becoming your unfortunate husband?” Cynthia was exasperated. “Plato West, you’re a frickin’ douchebag who just won’t leave anyone alone! I dare you to get stuck there and not come back—like, ever!” She terminated th

she asked. Chaswick brought up a mirror screen of the file number her mother was trying to access. "Dominic's will?!" "And the deeds along with every stipulation for the businesses he placed in your name," Chaswick added. She looked at him, who gave her a nod and sat back in his chair. She warned him of her mother's tactics just to get her hand on the company's account. It was always about money for her. Absentmindedly she watched as the sun played with his chestnut brown hair and lit up his ocean-blue eyes. He was in every way British Aristocracy, not to mention handsome. Strong chiseled jaw a light beard, and hair perfectly styled, and all his suits were tailor-made. He was a catch back in

His fair eyebrows stood bushy over light blue eyes that were always flashing with cold fire. He was a Prussian aristocrat, haughty and overbearing. But his mother had been a Polish Countess. Having made too many gambling debts when he was young, he had ruined his prospects in the Army, and remained an infantry captain. He had never married: his position did not allow of it, and no woman had ever moved him to it. His time he spent riding—occasionally he rode one of his own horses at the races—and at the officers’ club. Now and then he took himself a mistress. But after such an event, he returned to duty with his brow still more tense, his eyes still more hostile and irritable. With the men, h

A stack of blank papers waited on the old wooden table when a knock sounded at the cabin door early that morning. "Time to write our story," Dane said as he opened the door to let the light in. Ezra looked up from his chair. "Every chapter. For the kids and their kids. But first, who is at the door?" A young man stood there, shoulders tense. "I am Jaxson. Grandson of Vance. The old rival. I read the records. I want redemption. Not revenge."

She would tear down their aristocratic pretense before they could cast a shadow over her child. All that elegance was just a pretty wrapper on a rotting corpse. She needed to slice it off. The intense nausea in her stomach burned away, replaced entirely by a lethal, focused wrath. Without a fraction of hesitation, Avery pivoted elegantly in her heels, altering her trajectory to cut directly into their circle. Her spine was perfectly straight, her expression a mask of glacial calm. The surrounding aristocrats, who had been pretending to look at the gallery displays, instantly locked their eyes onto her, shocked by her sudden defiance.

The air reeked of incense and steel, a suffocating mixture of prayer and blood. Thalric Veynor, the duke who had maneuvered kingdoms into ruin, stood at the center of the chamber. His cloak, a deep crimson lined with sable fur, trailed across the flagstones like spilled blood. He had waited for this night—the final gambit of his schemes. His eyes, hard as black glass, were fixed on the throne dais where Serenya Vale, the newly unmasked heiress, now held court.

That’s when she figured that Isabella wasn’t from here. “You must be from another time period.“ “What do you mean?” “The thing you messed with wasn’t an hourglass. It was a witching glass.” “A witching what?” “The thing you called an hourglass. I read about it in my mothers’ books. It's an hourglass that’s been enchanted to control time. This item allows a person to travel between the past, the present, and the future.” “So, am I in the past?” “Yes.” “What year is it?”

Someone must have got her in a bad mood, but I’m the wrong person to lay aggression on. “Well sorry, it’s just whenever men like you come by and say “give me something heavy”, they leave wretched tips” She folded her arms, “And I look like one of them?” I raised a brow, I hate clueless girls. I have a Cartier watch and an expensive suit. If that doesn’t give it away that I’m rich then I don’t know what does. She moved closer to the counter to take a keen look at me, “Right you’re not, you’re that billionaire. Christian Montgomery.” The name fell seductively from her lips accompanied by a small smirk.