Novel & Cerita Desperate Duchesses Series

a genetic disorder that is inherited from newborns or sick people. However, the idea that the Duchess needs it raises more questions than it does in the current context, where she is tormenting a man who calls her his master. "This is the last time I'll spare your life, so you best change your ways. In addition, did you manage to secure the commodities to be traded in the Barley country?” After a moment of prolonged silence, I heard the man cry in anguish.

She wasn’t supposed to be anyone’s pawn. The Duke’s voice cut through the tension. “Let her go, Isabella,” he growled, his tone laced with menace. He stood tall, despite the blood dripping from his lip, his posture exuding authority. Isabella didn’t even flinch. “You’ve lost, Duke,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Your empire is crumbling, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” Victoria’s mind raced. This is it. The Duke’s empire was on the brink of destruction, and now, it seemed like Isabella was the one to bring it all crashing down.

Duke Alexander eyed Alessandra suspiciously who just beamed innocently at him. But it did not fool him. Since the moment he met her, he had known the manipulative soul lay behind her innocent smile. “The duke and duchess of Terrence duchy were murdered,” Alexander said with a smile. “Since the young duchess is comparing the two incidents, I am even more curious as to what happened to the Maximillan duchess and her family.”

“Let me tell you something. My cousin who works in the palace said that Princess Elle of the Orvel Kingdom seems very close to His Majesty the King. His Majesty even used his first dance with Princess Elle instead of Her Grace, the Duchess of Alison. Duchess Alison was the one who sacrificed everything to get His Majesty in the position he was in. Almost everyone saw that Duchess Alison came to the party yesterday. But instead of dancing with the people who supported her, His Majesty the King prefers to dance with the person who caused the great war some time ago.” “I'm pleased that the current king cares so much for his people. But I want His Majesty to care more about Duchess Alison. Compa

“When did you intend to tell me that you knew Mr. Greg? What relationship do you two have?” “Except that he’s a big name in the country, I have no idea who he is and why he saved me.” “He likes you, can’t you tell?” David threw in his opinion while playing games on his phone. “What do you know about love?” Maria took a jab at him and scoffed. “Sister Maria, stop looking down on me. I’m master of ladies’ hearts,” he said proudly. “Is that so, then the king of England is my father,” she playfully rolled her eyes.

"Miranda Yves, the late duke's mistress. The duke claimed her as the best love he ever had. His true love." It took her a while to perceive the information. "And the duchess, did she accept it?" Of course not, she answered her own question. It reminded her of her mother, she was sort of the woman in the painting. The duchess of Livingston surely didn't accept her, but what could the poor lady do?

"Stole her from Mr. Martini." He becomes stiff and gives me a suspicious look. Mr. Martini can be dangerous when it comes to ladies, as we both know. The last female who refused him got washed up at the Tennessee River's bottom. Although her cause of death was officially declared to be suicide, there is more to the story than that. Not to mention... "May I ask why?" I have to give him credit for his remarkable composure in this situation. I'll take care of my family later, but I'm sure they'll have heard about the night's happenings by morning.

The sign plates were under the portraits. “Alicia Elizabeth. Died at twenty-seven.” “Luisa Valencia. Twenty years.” “Amila Lavinia. Still alive.” “But often falls sick,” Tom backed me up. “Do you think it’s the third?” “I think the first wife bore the duke the heirs, and then died. Just look at her...” “Yeah. The difference is staggering.” Three women, but only one of them was drop-dead gorgeous, the second and the third looked plain. The first was tossing her head up, as if saying, I’m young, beautiful, loved, envy me! And even the duchess’ sparkling diamonds seemed smug and haughty. The second one stared forward in disbelief.

Why would I let a stranger or a fortune teller lure me into picking cards? The second has a throne at the edge of a cliff. A crown lay cracked at its base while two figures faced away from each other. “The Rejection.” She blurted. The word struck harder than any blade. “You will deny what is yours,” she continued, voice steady. “Or she will deny you. Pride will speak louder than fate.” My jaw tightened. “I never reject what belongs to me,” I corrected. But she only smiled. . The third card slid from the deck before I could hesitate. Flames consumed a kingdom. A wolf and a woman stood at its center, their hands barely touching as everything around them crumbled.

Inside the high walls of the Fleming Palace, a suffocating silence blanketed the halls, disturbed only by the measured shuffle of nurses and doctors. Duke Cedric Fleming stood at the edge of the duchess's hospital bed, his towering figure rigid, hands clasped behind his back. His usual poise, cold and aloof, had shattered under the magnitude of his worry. The duchess, his mother, lay unconscious, hooked up to machines that beeped faintly in a losing battle against death. The most elite specialists in the country had tried, failed, and withdrawn.