Novel & Cerita Empty Room Fresh Prince

the Prince said to my mother and I offered to take him there “What do you mean take me there? Do you think I brought him here for decorations? He wouldn’t do anything than read like a possessed person ever since you left. Nothing excites him anymore, he doesn’t even eat or go out to any parties or festival. He’s like a robot! I don’t want him clinging around me anymore, do something about him” the Prince lashed at me and I was taken aback “I should follow you to guard you” Remy countered but the Prince gave him a death glare

I pick the coziest shirt I can find and throw it over my head. When the prince comes back, he sees us all dressed up now, except Miles. He looks at Miles, threatening him with his eyes, but Miles doesn’t move. He's the demon of lust for a reason. He just sits there, feeling comfortable in his own skin. "I have information for you," the prince says. My heart is beating loudly, and the prince is gazing into space. I have a feeling it’s no good information. Have the plagues spread down here? What is so important he couldn’t even wait for us to get out of bed first before coming to our room?

After being forced to donate my blood to Zachary Doolithe, my wife Anna Lang's childhood sweetheart, I died in the small quarters that she had personally decorated for me. Before I died, my five-year-old son ran to the main quarters and begged Anna three times. The first time, he broke in and said that I was vomiting blood. Anna scoffed. "I see he's improved his ways. He's even taught our son to lie." Then she ordered the servants to take my son out. The second time, he knocked on the door and said that I was already beginning to convulse in pain. Anna tutted. "I only asked for a little blood, didn't I? It's not like I cut out his heart. Why is he pretending?” The servant stepped forw

I whispered. A few moments later, a notification popped up on my phone. A new post from Serena. The picture was of a room blanketed in jewels—rubies, sapphires, emeralds, piled up like small mountains. The caption read: 【Just said I was in a bad mood, and he sent all this. So dramatic! Good morning, my Prince of the Night. 】 The comments were a flood of envious praise. I put my phone down. I couldn't produce a single tear.

Not now. There was no time to be soft. There was no opportunity for it. You either made it or you didn’t. No in-betweens. No excuses. No mistakes. Be flawless, like always. She allowed herself a tiny smirk, then she vanished from before the mirror and the only sound of her leaving was the door clicking as she locked up. ~~~ Prince Williams was restless. It was not the first time, nor the last, he felt so. The restlessness had been growing in intensity ever since Felix left for America and every day, it seemed to weigh heavier on his mind.

"That'll be bad wouldn't it? I guess I'd need someone to bring me food." Prince Lucas looked at Charlotte suggestively. She laughed. "I mean, we'll have to wait and see." She said coyly. The elevator door opened to reveal a mostly empty space. The interior had been painted white and blue and from what Charlotte could see, there was only one office- two offices on the floor. "You look surprised." Prince Lucas stated. "It's a bit empty." "Yeah. I kinda like my space to be private. It's only my office and my assistant's that's on this floor." He said, directing her to his office.

Damn his killer smile and his dimples. "You know" I faced him, propping my left arm under my head "my prince charming is gonna have dimples just like you" I poked his cheek. He groaned "here we go again" I was pretty serious about the prince charming thing, I know that we dont live in a fairytale world but I believe there is a special person waiting for us. My special person must be super cute, tall, must have brown hair, blue eyes, dimples, and yes, pink lips. Yummy.

The place smelled old and dusty and even by the dim light of torches, I could make out the cobwebs hanging from the high roof overhead. “I hope our rooms are clean,” Troy muttered, “or I’m camping in the woods.” I looked down at the cracked, slate-grey floor. “Yeah. I think I’d prefer that too,” I said. Troy looked down on me, his face pulled into a grim smile. “I tried to warn you.” Another man, this one dressed in a completely black suit, appeared from thin air and curtly bowed to Troy, then to me. “Prince,” he said. “Welcome home.”

But the tension in Prince’s posture, the way he grips the gun like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, tells me he’s anything but okay. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” he snaps, his tone icy. “I can handle it.” I nod, swallowing back the urge to argue. Who is this guy, as it's not Max. Something about this doesn’t add up. Max never mentioned living with anyone. So who the hell is this guy? Prince brushes past me like the body at his feet is nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Let the guys clean it up,” he says dismissively.

I spring up from the table knocking it over and causing other men to turn their heads to watch the scene ,in a split second I pull back my arm clenching my fist, I throw it forward with force that knocked on the man I played with backwards when it connected, the dull thud and gasp of breath confirmed that I winded him. The chattering of the crowd fades away when others leave the place I heard someone joining them to help but someone else stopped him informing that I'm the fifth prince. That conversation in the background took me off guard as many people in the states didn't know I was the fifth prince because I always maintained a low profile to stay out of trouble.