Imperium Press Mga Nobela at Kwento

I really hope she likes it. My cellphone rang on a nearby table. Without looking at the caller ID, I placed it to my ear. "Hello?" "Is this Zenia Blackman?" "Yes, this is she, who's this?" "My name is Jermery from Hands On. I got your information from a magazine colonist who published some of your clothing lines. I'm very much interested in seeing some of your designs as well." OMG! OMG! Jeremy from Hands On is speaking to me. "Thanks so much for calling, Jermery . We can schedule a day that's convenient for you."

He shrugs his shoulders like he sees me as nothing. "Please do not call me little princess again!" I find that worse than these guys staring at my damn body and drooling. Little princes! Who the hell does he think he is? "Is my conception of you wrong? If it is, please just say, but we all knew your mother was the queen and didn't get her hands dirty, and we all know you will follow her steps." "Mr Lewis, your conception is very wrong and off. You used the power of my name for immunity recently yet have the guts not to pay?" I look at him, trying not to get into an argument over stupid things right now, like him seeing me as weak.

Once it was grown, it would bless the land of the emperor who planted it. “It is proof that the current imperial family is a descendant of that fae, right?” “Well, the silver hairs of the imperial family are symbols that remind us of the deity’s blessing.” Matt took the comfreys from his hand and put it in a space ring, magic dimension storage in a form of a ring. Dio messed his mint-colored hair and smiled. “It must’ve been hard for the imperial family to hide their identity,” Dio mumbled. “They say that the emperor uses magic to dye his hair when he goes out for secret inspections,” Matt answered him.

The flesh and blood on his arms grew again. His eyes were incomparably sinister as he resisted the chaotic wind blades. He wanted to reconstruct his true body and take the final step to become a real Immortal Emperor. If he failed, he would die. Chu Xun was really crazy. The chaotic void was the most terrible in the starry sky. Even an Immortal Emperor would be in great danger after entering it. However, he wanted to take the last step here. If other Immortal Emperors knew about it, they would probably be scared to death.

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To be a fortress, a system of allies rather than a web of personal connections. When the head of his father’s security detail sat him down that night and told him, in no uncertain terms, that the fatal car crash that supposedly killed his parents had been staged, he didn’t feel an ounce of surprise. It was the natural way for them to go. With assassin’s bullets in their skulls. If whoever killed them had expected the empire to crumble, though, they were woefully mistaken. There was absolutely nothing that could shake the company’s foundations, not while he was alive. He would never disappoint his father and mother, not even in death.

My jaw clenched as I turned out of the block and onto the sleek road. I hated everything here. I hated the expectations, the scripts that were written for us long before we could even form sentences. Why do our fathers think they had the right to dictate our lives? Why does his father keep shoving royalty and legacy down Alex's throat like it was the only reason he had him? Why does mine keep trying to mold me into a man I can barely recognize? The perfect son. The future president. They didn't know us. At least, mine never really did. I exhaled, shaking my head. There was one person who probably would understand me right now. Who would relate to how I feel right now—but she wasn't reachable

The rain came down. She thought about what Carmen had said: “Victor Crane is still inside Damien's company. On the board.” Which meant Crane had access. To the company structure, to the legal team, to the kind of institutional machinery that could reach into a journalist's editorial chain and apply quiet pressure. She stopped in the middle of the pavement and stood there in the rain. What if the call hadn't come from Damien? What if Crane, who had spent ten years managing this, who was still inside the company, who had billed forty hours of strategic consultation in the three days after Elias's death, had made the call himself? Using the company's lawyers, the company's name, without Damien'

I asked suspiciously, "You hated my father. You spent a decade trying to drive Quinnix Innovations into the dirt. Why would you spend a fortune to free his daughter?" Jared’s hazel eyes locked into mine as he let out a soft amused breath, leaning an inch closer. "Because Amelia, your father is dead, and the empire he left behind is currently being asset stripped by your charming ex-fiancé and your traitorous cousin. Quinnix Innovations is vulnerable and I don’t like leaving things I want out in the open." "You want Quinnix," I said with a frown. "So you dragged me out of a South African prison to do what? Beg me for stock options?"

"Make it ten." She had it ready by nine-thirty. Meridian Press was a midsize publisher, independent, well-regarded but perpetually undercapitalized. They had been looking for investors for the past two years, ever since their primary backer had pulled out during the pandemic. Iris's book was the biggest thing they had published in a decade, and they were scrambling to capitalize on its success while also keeping the lights on. Perfect.