Jessica Crown Novels & Stories

Because no matter how far I move in my own world, no matter how controlled everything becomes… This? This is constant. “Jacob, are you even listening?” Stella’s voice snapped me back. “No,” I said honestly. She gasped dramatically. “Wow, rude.” “Very,” I agreed, reaching for a glass of water. “You’ve changed,” she continued, shaking her head like she was deeply disappointed. “Ever since you got my role model pregnant.” I paused. Slowly turned my head to look at her. “My what?” “My role model,” she repeated proudly. “Alexandra Fisher Hale. Do you know how iconic she is? And you just… casually got her pregnant like it’s nothing.”

The one who holds my hand when he is scared. "Give me the crown," Darius says. He moves closer to me. "The letter from the lawyer. The DNA proof. We will burn it together. You will go back to being my wife. My good wife. My obedient wife. No one gets hurt. No one needs to know." "What crown?" I ask him. He smiles. The same smile from this morning. From our wedding. From seven years of lies. "I know you are the Princess," he says. "I found you first. Before anyone else could. I made sure you stayed small. Stayed grateful. Stayed mine."

"Who was it?" No answer. "Jess?" Jessica looked down at the envelope. Cream coloured. Official. Foreign stamps. Her heart began pounding. Slowly. Then faster. Then faster still. "Oh my God." Daisy appeared in the hallway. "What?" Jessica turned. Still holding the envelope. Neither sister moved. Neither spoke. Then Daisy's eyes widened. "Oh." Jessica nodded. "Oh." The envelope suddenly felt very heavy. Ridiculously heavy. As though her future had somehow been folded inside.

Morning light filtered through the curtains of Isabelle’s chambers at Cresthaven Palace, illuminating the small desk where she sat motionless, quill suspended above parchment. A letter to Amelia lay half-written before her, the ink long dried. How did one tell a dear friend that the crown prince had requested assistance in courting her? More importantly, how did one write such a letter with a heart splintered into fragments?

I reminded him of that. Mark’s laughter filled the room, "You pull her brand under Crownwell & Brooks, and not only will sales explode, the old men on your father’s board will have no choice but to acknowledge you.” he added and I smiled. But even as he said it, my mind wandered to that final, elusive woman—the one CEO no one could seem to pin down easily. She had built a brand with ruthless speed, but stayed hidden from the spotlight, a ghost among giants. She's a mystery and the last key to my throne. Am never missing this opportunity.

"No, this dress is so dull... I want something amazing which grabs attention at one glance." Jessica whined and the woman who was showing them clothes were already out of dresses now she was scared that she won't be able to satisfy royal ladies. "Jess... Come on, the last dress you tried was good." Angel shook her at her dramatic behaviour. "It was good not wow!" Jessica rolled her eyes. "I want it to be wow!" "Of course, you are the princess..." Sebastian hyped her. "See!" Jessica looked at Angel. "Mom! Do something... What are you wearing?"

Dante was seething, but he had to keep it under wraps. He never saw it coming. The girl who had always been so meek, the one who clawed her way up from the slums, the real deal heiress, was showing her true colors then, all teeth and claws. "50 million? In your dreams! Who do you think you are?" "Dreams are optional." I whipped out my phone, the screen showing a ticking countdown to send. "This is Rosa's health report. It says her kidneys are in perfect health, and that the whole sick act was just a con to snag my kidney.

They mourned him and continue to do so. Someone had to take over now that the King was gone, and the young Crown Prince is doing an excellent job of carrying on his father's legacy. He's skilled at making snap decisions, and he's a natural leader. Not to mention that he's quite attractive. Anastasia isn't the only girl in the kingdom who fantasizes about him. When she sees him pass by, she can't help but steal a glimpse at him. If word gets out that she secretly admires the Prince, she'll most likely be beaten to death, but who can blame her? Despite the fact that he is rumored to be engaged, Anastasia smiles sheepishly whenever his name is mentioned. Even if he isn't enganged, a maid and a