Madam Giselle Novels & Stories

asked the middle-aged woman. "Ella Wang," I replied. "Nice to meet you, Miss Wang. I am Giselle - the woman entrusted by sisters to look after and care for this hostel. You can call me Madam Giselle. Hopefully you will feel at home in the dorms, Miss Wang, "said Madam Giselle "Nice to meet you, Madam Giselle," I replied. "They are boarders too. She is Rihana - your house mate," Madam Giselle said to the eldest girl.

She had that lawyer vibe going—white dress, black belt, strawberry blonde hair that probably cost more than our monthly grocery budget. “Hi, Giselle . Wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” She sat down like we were about to discuss college applications instead of my parents’ murder. “I’m Madilyn.” Malik stood behind her looking like grief had taken up permanent residence in his hazel eyes. His half-smile was about as convincing as a three-dollar bill.

Giselle sighs, massaging her temples. There's no other way she could survive this, so she shuts her textbook, organized her writing materials inside her pencil cases, and placed it all inside her bag. Giselle pulled her iced coffee and started sipping on it. She runs her finger on the leaked water from her cold cup. "No, I don't believe in them. We're no longer twelve," Giselle ridicules, rolling her eyes in absurdity. Her eyes trailed to her surroundings while Yvonne began to tackle more about bloodsucking demons until Giselle found something that caught her attention. Mr. Mercado placed newly made tiramisu crepe cake, the ones that she loves.

let the story build up so when Steamy McSteamy starts to strip naked, you will feel all the hotness which will get your toes curling and your fingers scrolling your screen back and forth. Pheww... did that get you hooked already? nope? okay, bear with me as I tell you a story about our Madam Billionaire. A story so strikingly beautiful that I might have a contender to mine and Luka's. This is a story about our filthy rich madam who will have her struggles after the death of her beloved father.

Everyone knows me as a gentle and calm wife. On our wedding night, my husband, Julian Chapman, sleeps with another woman. I tell myself that it's part of being married and that I should be understanding. He blows through the 30,000 dollars I brought into the marriage. I kept my silence. Then, he brings home one mistress after another. I pour them drinks myself. When his gambling debts finally catch up with him, he sells me to a brothel without a second thought. "This is my wife. She's quiet, obedient, and easy to deal with. Take her instead. Do whatever you want with her." I laugh. He has no idea that I had a reputation before I ever married him. They called me the Queen of Hell. I ha

"The Macy's Moote Harin Brain" "This girl should be brought here." He let go of Azfarin with a jerk. Azfarin staggered to the ground and did not understand what the man was saying. But he was now walking back and forth, and the three black men were shaking their heads and heading towards Azfarin. "Till Heradi Macy's Op" "Pick up this girl" He was speaking in his own language, his neck pointing towards the girl. All eyes were on the girl in the black shirt at the same time, and the steps of the tall man in them.

K•E•L•S•I:::: "Kelsi, What's happening here?"Who's that? Mum asked coming towards me with the things she bought, while looking at Anita departing figure. "Uhm....She's just a friend", I smiled, taking the goods from my mum who look unconvinced about my reply, I knew she could see my unsettled body language. "She is my Friend mum, ermm.... I mean my class mate, she was greeting me" I grinned, trying to reassure my mother.

But as we stood on the precipice of a new war, I chose to fight the first battle on my home turf: the canvas. ==== The Grand Galerie was a cathedral of glass and white marble, a space designed to make art feel like a religious experience. Tonight, it wasn’t just a gallery; it was a fortress. The elite critics from London, Paris, and New York were huddled in small, hushed circles, their voices a low hum of anticipation. For five years, I had been the “Madwoman of Aethelgard.” Tonight, the invitation carried only one name, embossed in gold against cream cardstock: VICTORIA VERMON.

“What kind of trouble?” The maid bit her lip, glancing at the others before finally speaking. “Lady Giselle… she was Alpha Denderick’s mistress before you returned. She showed up a few weeks before you reappeared, and ever since then, she’s been acting like she owns the place. She keeps saying she’s going to be the next Luna, that she’s the only one worthy of the title.”

She ran into the closet, frantically searching, only to find that my scent had faded from all my old coats. She panicked. Still in her pajamas, she bolted out of the apartment without even changing and headed straight for the fire station. She was going to look for me. In Giselle's world, everyone's face was just a blur of static. Like a madwoman, she rushed into the compound, grabbed every uniformed man she could find, and smelled them. "No, this is not it… No…" she cried out, stumbling forward. "You're not my husband… Where is he? Where has he been? I won't interfere anymore. I won't care who you see outside anymore. Just come back, please…"