Ethnicity Bill Bellamy Wife Novels & Stories

She looks in the way of Damon and says to him, “Gather everyone around, including the press outside. I would like to invite them to done with me. By the way, have you seen my … have you seen Jonas around here?” “Jonas Marcel?” Damon inquires. Alexia shakes her head and says to him, “No, Jonas Rivas, my brother.” The people around her start speaking amongst each other in confusion, “Her Fiancé and brother have the same name?’ “Hasn’t her brother died long time ago?”

For him, the important thing is money and all the facilities they provide for him. But then, something he just remembered made him ask his mother. "Oh, right. Mom, when do you think Alex will come along with his wife again? I don't think I will get tired of seeing such a beautiful woman. What's her name? Isn't it Elisha? Oh, damn it! Alex is fortunate to get such a beautiful wife." Bellona gave him a murderous look. "She's not Alex's wife. At least they weren't legally married yet. Then, in my opinion, she is not very beautiful. Besides, she might be doing plastic surgery, and her makeup was also thick."

“Blame him? Don’t flatter yourself even if Jacob hadn’t asked for a divorce i would have made sure you were thrown out. Did you truly believe a criminal like you could ever be worthy of my son?” Clara sneered tossing her hair “Exactly. Stop acting like you are some tragic heroine no one is buying it.” Whispers stirred among a few bystanders nearby. “Wait… isn’t that Jacob Wilson’s ex-wife?” “I heard she went to prison.” “Prison? No wonder his mother hates her.” “Still she is prettier than I expected” The whispers pricked at Vanessa’s ears but she kept her face calm her tone measured. “Believe what you want the marriage is over.”

I suddenly felt small again. “My great-grandchild!” Mrs. Bellamy’s voice rang through the room. She jumped up from her seat and rushed forward with a wide beam on her face. “Grandma, be careful or you’ll trip,” a woman said, her lips curled but one would believe she was truly worried. Mrs. Bellamy paused, then turned to the woman with a sharp gaze. “I’m not as clumsy as you, Henrietta. Don't forget your place.” Henrietta looked bitter, and moved closer to the man beside her as if looking for his protection. But the man, tall and dressed in a sharp black suit, gave her a cold glare. I believe he was her husband.

Alastair nodded at Amadeus before opening his mouth. "Bellamy was promised a wife by a prominent member in Desert Sun. Her dowry is rather handsome and appeals to both Bellamy and Alpha Jonah," at my father's name, I swallowed down my anxiety. Straightened my spine. "She hasn't come to Desert Sun and we were told to come to fetch her. We want no trouble with you, Ciaran. We were told she lives for high society and this is the event of the year."

His comment went straight to Ariel's ears, who gasped and covered her mouth at the news of Abigail being pregnant. "Well, serves her right," Bellamy turned to me and smiled in sarcasm. "But here's the thing; you're wrong to think I did it because of her. I'm not even her mate anymore. I just signed the divorce papers. It's not about her; it's about justice for those innocent people," Bellamy made his stance clear. The two made it loud and clear that they didn't want me. I lowered my head and took a deep breath. I didn't need to stick around anymore.

"This is a one-year contract for marriage between you and Mr. Declan Rowe. During the contractual period, you'll be recognised as his wife. You, as well as your child, will be required to cohabit with him for the duration of the contract. You will be required to attend formal events together and show up as a couple in love. We will ensure to protect your public image, ensuring that neither you nor your child is fully revealed to the public or made to face any form of criticism during or after the contract. Your only duty is to partner with Mr. Declan, presenting him as the perfect husband and loving father. In return, you'll receive a monthly allowance, and upon the lapse of the contract, yo

Time passed in a trick. It was the week of marriage when the nation's husband was going to get married. Words passed like fire. Girls from high society were envious of the bride. Bellamy was known as a bitch in the upper class but, no one dared to offend her, afraid of the consequences. As the chaos in the whole of New York City, the Smith mansion was also in chaos, not because of the marriage, but because of the hard news in the morning. Bellamy hadn't returned home since she left before meeting Alaric.

"That’s a billion-dollar subsidiary, Amara. The board will never approve a total divestment." "Then the board can read about the 'Silent Billionaire' and his contract bride in the Sunday papers," she said. Her face was inches from mine. I could smell the faint scent of the soap she used—something herbal and cheap, not the French perfume my mother do forced on her. "I’ll tell them about the eraser, Gideon. I’ll tell them how you spent a year trying to rub out my personhood so I wouldn't embarrass your brand."

"What's going on here?" she asked in perfect Italian, her tone brooking no argument. The officer snapped to attention. "Racheal, this man is demanding to see a prisoner, Abigail Johnson." The woman turned to me, and I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. It was none other than Racheal Williams. My ex-wife. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since the divorce. My mouth and eyes couldn’t help but open widely. She was looking more powerful and confident than I ever remembered.