Jean Sinclair Novels & Stories

Juliette thought for a moment, then blushed and said, "The inspiration came from my fiance." The reporters instantly lit up. "May we ask who your fiance is? Is he also in the art world?" Juliette hesitated, but Dad grabbed the microphone and announced proudly, "Her fiance is the successor to Sinclair Group—Leon Sinclair!" This interview sparked heated discussions. Labels like "high-society wife" and "genius artist" quickly captured everyone's attention. Leon's father, Joseph Sinclair, even appeared in person to confirm Juliette's status as the Sinclair family's future daughter-in-law.

McQueen spat. "You are a horrible person!" Mr. Sinclair suddenly exclaimed, his voice filled with rage. He had always been the quiet one, never saying much. But today, I could sense his fury from where I stood. "You made me so happy to think I had found my daughter. You gave my wife and me false joy!" He growled. "You should be in prison for this." "Finally, you agree with me!" Gianna laughed. "But we won't send you there," he added, his voice resolute. "I know you have your reasons for doing this. I just want you to leave, get your things from Alexander's house, and vanish like you never existed."

"We’re so close to winning today!" Lilian sighed in anger and regret. "Mom, don’t worry. I still have an ace card up my sleeve!" Clarissa took her phone out and called an overseas number. Soon, a lazy and gloomy female voice could be heard from the phone. "Hello?" "Jeanne, please save me! That little b*tch Naomi almost ruined me!" Jeanne Morgan was born with a gold spoon in her mouth. She was the daughter of one of Gin City's top four most influential families.

Sinclair’s friends turned toward her. One of them eyed her dress. “Oh, this must be the… companion Roy brought?” Mrs. Sinclair’s smile widened, sharp as glass. “Oh yes,” she said sweetly, “this is Dianne. Roy’s… temporary interest.” A few of the women exchanged looks. Karen stepped into the circle, folding her arms. “Temporary is generous.” Dianne felt the first sting under her ribs but kept silent. One of Mrs. Sinclair’s friends leaned in with false curiosity. “Where did you say you schooled again, dear?”

His smile returned in full force as he settled down on it and motioned for me to do the same. “Please, Ms. Fairchild," he purred, "take a seat. Let's get down to business." As I settled into the chair, Mr. Sinclair leaned forward, a diamond ring flashing on his finger. “Ms. Fairchild,” He began as his voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. Elijah Sinclair, COO of Gadget Inc., and, as of yesterday, a most fascinated admirer of your architectural prowess." He sure did know how to play the games. It was psychology to earn yourself in someone’s best book by making a nice statement about things they cherished the most.

A year after Catherine’s death... I stood in my bar watching the woman dancing in front of me. She was an attractive brunette with curves and a killer ass. I took a drink of my whiskey and kept my eyes on her. I was waiting for my second in command, Jacob, to meet me so we could discuss the problem that needed to be dealt with. The woman walked up to me and pushed her body against mine as she whispered in my ear. “Do you want to go have some fun sexy?” I pushed her off of me.

His personal space, was beautiful and expensive. He thanked the driver, climbed out, and let himself in with automatic door, inputting his pin. The foyer lights came on automatically warm. He hated it. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his keys on the console table, and walked straight into the living room. And froze. Sarah sat on the long gray sectional, her legs crossed at the ankles, fur coat draped over the armrest like she’d just arrived. She wore a cream silk gown underneath, understated jewelry, hair swept into a low chignon. She looked every inch the elegant matriarch she was—and right now, she looked like an intruder.

Weird for the painter to be so specific. “Maybe he did take a mate.” I shrug. However, I can’t help but stare at the woman. Jean. The only Jean I know of is Jean Sanguinite, an ancestor of mine who lived, coincidentally, at the same time as Lucian. Jean was a strategist and the leader of the Nelo Clan. There is no portrait of her in the clan’s archives. In fact, it seems like someone deliberately wiped out all evidence of her existence. But stories cannot be erased. Jean is considered nothing short of a saint in vampire culture. She swooped in and outsmarted the wolves, securing a favorable outcome for our kind and preventing more blood from being shed. Even the most arrogant of vampires res

It was quite easy to transform Jane Puckett, scholarship student and chronic coffee drinker, into Jailbird, the mysterious masked dancer in Fantasy Island. The hangover would have to wait. Bills didn't pay themselves.