Courtney Dilaurentis Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Cornelia, you look beautiful tonight. Is that a Dior gown? Charles, you look dashing yourself. Feel free to head into the parlor and I’ll be there shortly. The help will bring a fresh round of champagne. I am taking requests tonight.” “Oh, how lovely. I do hope you will sing Jul, jul stralande jul! I miss it so from our home country.” “Then I shall just for you cousin dear. I’ll be along.” Courtney waited for her cousin and her partner to get out of earshot, before her true ugly nature returned to the surface. The monster that lived inside her pretty shell. “Why are you even here? And dressed like that! My guest will talk about this. You should have contacted me first and we could have mad

“Good Morning, Alpha Regent Bronx Andreas Mason! Joyeux anniversaire [Happy birthday], Luna Regent Goddess Iokaste Mason! How are you feeling, mon ami?” Delilah breezes into the Bronx’s office with Musu and kisses me on both cheeks. She sets down a round cake. The icing is ombre from white to lavender to gray frosting and three candles on top. “Leticia Latmus, Klay Sombun, I hope you are both well!”

Her presence was the sole reason why every other person were right there in the room- Courtney Richardson, The CEO of Citadel's, who had an indifferent expression on her beautiful and sharp-featured, yet attractively mature face. She wore a black chiffon shirt under her brown jacket, with matching pants that fitted her long legs perfectly. The red butterfly tat slightly above the collar of her shirt was uncovered by her brown hair which she tied into a neat bun. Her deep green eyes watched through the fitting thin golden-framed glasses sitting above her nose bridge perfectly as the man in front made his analysis on the data projected on the screen.

“Leah Cartwright. She was one of the girls in the archive. I just... I just found out through a friend. They found her in her apartment this morning.” I swallowed. “How?” “Hanging. No note. Nothing. Just... gone.” The line went quiet for a beat. Then Delilah whispered, “I don’t think it was a coincidence.” Jason and I sat across from Cassandra at the dining table. The sunlight cut across her face in sharp angles. “She was twenty-nine,” Cassandra said. “I remember her. She was always laughing. Always pulling me into trouble.” I reached across the table, took her hand. “I don’t think we’re dealing with just scandal anymore,” Jason said. “This archive... it’s too big. Too much to lose.”