Chuck Bass Blair Novels & Stories

Aaron sat in the car, picked up the mobile phone, made a call to Baird Churchil, "see you at the old place." "Dream" club, a special elegant room for, a man dressed very fashionable has been waiting there. "Master Hunter, I'm also a police chief. I'm always under your command. I'm really shameless." Baird Churchil is the youngest director in the history of W city. Yes, he was the director who accidentally saved his daughter and was suddenly commuted when he jumped into the river. God knows, he is only 28 years old this year. His 13-year-old daughter came out of nowhere. He now still takes the blame of the irresponsible man.

Bailey says, "Are you sure you won't come with us? I mean, there's room for one more in this old junker." "Yeah, I'm sure. Best of luck and try not to die, will you?" "I can't make that promise," I say. "Bye Chuck," Rebecca says. "Later man," Bailey says, "It was awesome meeting you." Chuck says bye and gets out of the car. With him gone, Bailey steps on the gas, and the three of us drive away. We take the empty road and leave Chuck's town. "Fuck," I say falling back into the seat. "Chuck. What a damn jackass."

His eyes drifted to me, and he winked. I rolled my eyes as I heard another wave of giggles echoing across the room. “So what did you do, Mr. Blair?” another reporter asked. He drew a deep breath. “I began by admitting my wrongs and asking for forgiveness. I also rehired her in my company, giving her the position she deserved.” Chuckling, a lady reporter rose from her seat. “And did you forgive Mr. Blair, Ms. Clairmont?” I glanced at Killian and smirked. “He made me a director in his company, so that was a good start.” A wave of laughter spread through the room. I waited for it to fade and continued. “As for forgiveness... he's on the best way to receive it.”

With no one left to turn to, Chuck drowned his sorrows in alcohol, drinking himself into a stupor day after day. His father, Russell Bassett, had finally reached his breaking point. When Chuck landed in the hospital after yet another binge, Russell put his foot down. "You've done nothing but throw your life away for six months. The company's stock is crashing, and the business is in shambles. If you keep this up, I won't think twice about cutting you off. You'll lose your inheritance." Chuck looked up. "So, who gets Bassett Group instead? That bastard son of yours?"

When I first met him in his house, I made up a name to fool him. “You know what? You look exactly the same like Nathan’s fiancee who was happened to share the same name with you. Blair, Blair Smith. But she died few years ago. What a pity. My brother sank. Now today, you show up, and if I didn’t make a mistake, you were once begging me for being my blood slave. Am I right?” Chuck’s words thoroughly irrated Leonardo. He stood up angrily and grabbed Chuck’s collar, threw him onto the ground and stepped him voilently.

He was worried she would go somewhere else. Blair stood up and was ready to leave when a man with a big belly walked over with a wine glass. “Long time no see, Master Blair.” It was Chris Moore, the chairman of the Angie Group. They met at a reception a few months ago. Blair nodded indifferently, not intending to converse with the other party. “Master Blair, are you leaving? Why don’t you stay a little longer and enjoy the night scenery on this cruise ship?” As Chris spoke, he handed Blair a room card with both hands and tried to fawn over him. “This is a little token of appreciation I prepared for you. I hope you’ll accept it.”

Then he stood and wrapped her in one of his rare, fierce bear hugs. “You’ve been my daughter since the moment you stormed into that gala,” he said roughly. “But hearing you choose it… Isabella Kane… it means everything.” Bella hugged him back just as tightly. The sight brought tears to my eyes. --- Chuck’s growth continued in a powerful way during a Foundation gala we attended mid-week. He delivered his first major public speech about breaking cycles of trauma. His voice didn’t waver once. When a reporter asked about his father, Chuck answered with quiet dignity.

“What did you say?” Sky jumped up in shock, turning over the wine glass in front of him. The red wine spilled out, yet nobody cared. Zachary was a half-stepped Grandmaster, so he could hear everything clearly. His expression also changed abruptly as he frowned. He knew the person who led the case in Divine Constabulary of Missouri: it was Travis Blair, an Earth ranked martial artist as well as his direct subordinate. Even though he was relatively rough and a bit flawed in his personality, he was still satisfactory in his other aspects. At least there was no problem with his loyalty toward Divine Constabulary.

The chill came deep from my bones. I wrapped the small blanket tighter around me, but it felt like some invisible force was sucking the warmth out of me. No matter what I did, I just couldn't get warm. Just as I was about to collapse, a black car slowly approached, stopping at the entrance of the rest stop. As if I finally found my lifeline, I used every ounce of strength I had left to shuffle forward. Only, when the window came down, it wasn't Uncle Cole who sat in the driver's seat. It was a stranger who introduced himself as Saul.

Hearing Jim praise Annie, Tate smiled widely. "Jim, you're too polite. My daughter has to thank you instead." Jim said with a smile, "You're lucky to have such a brilliant daughter. You don't have to be modest with me." Tate was just about to reply when he saw his two sons coming toward him. He furrowed his brows. "Dad, we would like to introduce someone to you." Anson turned sideways and gestured to Chuck. "This is Chuck Jensen of Well Spring Pharma." When Yvonne saw Chuck, her gaze darkened. How could this bastard be so shameless as to come to their party?