Gilded Age Novel Novels & Stories

“What is so important?” “You’d be shocked.” The call ended with a beep. Sighing, I brought the phone to my face and began to scroll through the news headlines of the day. A sharp gasp tore from my lips. I blinked once and then twice, hoping that I’d read the headline wrongly. ‘Inside Ophelia Whitmore’s Gold-Digging Past: Five Times She Used Men For Status’ I shot upright. Gold digging? Unbelievable. Scrolling down, another one popped.

"This is our family's trusted secretary. He's been protecting my family's wealth for decades." "Oh." Keira's eyes widened. "You are rich, Mom?" she asked. "Yes. In fact," Henry spoke, "the Golden Age was funded by them before it was even on top." "Oh," Keira exclaimed. "So..." She waited for her mother. "I will tell you the rest later. But I want you to greet him. This is Carter."

The Billionaire’s Gilded Cage By Golden Tree They dressed her with silk and silence. Beneath the light of Seoul’s finest chandeliers, Chaewon Kim stood like an impossibly shaped statue—flawless, beautiful, untouched. The designer evening gown clung to her body in shining folds of ivory and silver, the off-the-shoulder cut beautiful with china skin. To the observing superior, she was the very picture of poise and privilege. A beautiful heiress claiming her rightful place at the peak of authority. But beneath her composed facade, she was drowning.

I had my uncle look up her ID info, and as soon as he checked, it turned out that Lillian is a notorious gold digger! Those around us erupted into murmurs, while Clara crossly held up her phone for everyone to see. "I've gone to so much trouble for you, yet you're being completely ungrateful about it, Nicholas!" Nicholas snatched the phone and stared fixedly at the screen, noting the name Lillian Naughton displayed there. Just as Clara claimed, there were only two individuals by that name—one was the prestigious heiress of the Naughton family, and the other was an infamous marriage fraudster and gold digger.

“Oh, and one more thing. “My name is Claire Bennett. “This mall was a gift from my father on my twentieth birthday.” I let the silence settle. Then, calmly: “Mr. Collins… on your boss’s own property, do you really think anyone would dare frame her as a thief?”

“I don’t think she knew she was doing it. I don’t think she’s a bad person. But I felt, by the end, like a piece she’d collected.” Eleanor thought about this. She thought about Preston, the man she’d been engaged to first — the jaw, the shipping lanes, the interior life of a parking garage. She thought about the French count. She thought about the long line of people who had wanted to be near her wealth or her name or her access, who had wanted her as context, as setting, as the background against which their own life would read better. “I know something about that,” she said quietly. He looked at her. “I know you do,” he said. “That’s why I’m telling you.”

Nyx Calder learned early that survival had nothing to do with kindness. The gates of Briarcrest Academy rose from the mist like a judgment carved in iron and stone, their wrought crests catching the pale morning light. Beyond them stretched manicured lawns, ivy-choked buildings, and spires that scraped the sky with quiet arrogance. Power lived here. Old power. The kind that didn’t need to announce itself because it had already decided your worth. Nyx tightened her grip on the strap of her worn duffel bag as the gates slid open without a sound.

-----------Glimpse----------- The stillness of the penthouse felt just like some gilded cage pushing me down. I still could hear my mother’s rasping breaths in my head alongside seeing a hopeful smile on my brother’s face when I told him about tuition. Survival along with books in addition to breath that is what the money represented for me. Under a man who looked directly at me as though I were some poison wrapped up in pearls, I found myself still wrapped well in silk I’d never truly own.

That was the end of Ivy Thorne. "Miss Ivy?" Her grandfather’s voice came from the top of the stairs. The old man walked down, leaning on his cane. He looked at her and smiled. "You look like your mother. She always had that look in her eye when she was about to win a war." "I learned from the best, Grandfather," Ivy said, walking over to hug him. "Thank you for the gala. It was perfect." "It’s only the beginning," the old man warned. "Julian is a small fish. The real sharks will come for you now that they know the St. Claire heiress is back. Are you ready for the board meeting tomorrow?"

It was the same book which written by Gillian Bridgerton. Something make him feeling uneasy after realizing a possibility that both Gillian and Cecilia was coming from the same world. "It's annoying." He whispered and choose to read it to wasting some time. The story was about a noble man who fall in love with his maid. The man's parent didn't agree with the relationship. The man chose to ran away with her and move to a small cottage in the outskirt of the city. One day, when the man dug their small land to plant some flowers, he found several golden bars buried in there.