Nikke Ingrid นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Bianca chuckled, and Ingrid followed. “Goodness me,” Ingrid turned to Moira, “I didn’t realize you were still here.” She said sarcastically. “That’s how insignificant she and her daughter are,” Bianca said. Ingrid faked a smile, looking at Moira, who still had her head bowed. “I want Cobb salad, less bacon and more broccoli, leafy greens, and avocado, please.” She turned to Bianca with a grin, “I have got to keep it in check for Theodore.”

I look back at Nick now and he clears his throat as he reaches for a plate to dish some food for himself. “And what has he been saying?” I ask Ingrid. “Well he has had so many good things to say about you. He talks about how beautiful and kind you are. How you are soft spoken and pretty stubborn as well.” she laughs. I can not believe my ears. Nickolas says good things about me? This is not possible or Is this all part of some plan of his? He has never said anything good to me since we met and I am finding it totally difficult to believe.

Nyos greeted as he waved one of her hands slightly in greeting. "X2" Frey said as he only raised her right hand. The girl who had arrived was named Ingrid. She did not even dignify the greeting of Nyos and Frey, who were standing next to Zark and in her place, she walked directly towards him. Ingrid's body emitted an intriguing smell. “Didn't you take a bath? Because I'll tell you a secret ... "Nyos began" ... you stink. " And to finish off the sentence "It must be the smell of the undead, since the meat is rotten."

I asked. "You, you, you... " "Shut up, bitçh" "My name is Mitch" she corrected me. "Oops, my bad" I feign ignorance. "I thought you're called bitçh" Ingrid closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, she gave me a tight smile. "I'm sorry, your highness" she bowed respectfully. "It's fine, I don't hold grudges against my subjects" I said. "You're so generous, your highness"

I whispered, dragging a hand down my face. Working in Braga, all the effort, buying a house, having something of my own in Portugal—those were clear goals to achieve. Approving promos, reviewing singles, and being the filter for everything. Signings, meetings… How was I supposed to focus with Delu stuck in my head? I pulled the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker, leaning back in my chair. “Hey,” Ingrid’s voice came through. “Hey. So Nikko’s back in the picture?”

Ingrid stood in the middle of a bunch of camellias, wearing a white dress and her brown hair flowing down her back beautifully. Everything about Ingrid is soft, pure, and brings peace. Sentences that ejected from her lips are always pleasant to hear, sound soothing and comforting. Young Nicholas moved, took a step toward his mother, but the woman he loved was having an argument with a man with a loud voice. Nicholas watched them from where he stood and recognized the man as his father. "Don't, honey, let him be free with his world," Ingrid said urgently. "You don't have to force him to take shooting lessons. He's still a child and needs to grow up like any normal kid."

She is standing next to a tall guy who looked like a tea lover, attractive, English and young, but a pussy of a man, and weak enough seeing as I can easily break his neck with one simple twist. Ingrid is so close to him, pressed up tight, but I know he hasn't lay a single dirty hand on her. Maybe not in any way that counted. She is staring up at him, then the crowd, gazing at the bunch of men losers seated here like they have a stupid gathering today. Hold up. Yes, that's my bambina; Ingrid La Rosa, but she looks . . . different. Especially with her holding that glass of whatever that is. She's confident. She's tipsy. Is she drunk?

Niko As I survey the room, I notice three distinct doors, each providing access in and out of this space. The first door, positioned at the back, swings open to reveal a cramped area filled with storage cupboards. Among the clutter, I spot an elderly woman nestled among the shadows, her presence almost hidden. She exudes an air of gentle vulnerability, with silver strands framing her soft, weathered face. Though her age marks her features, she radiates a sense of inherent harmlessness, as if shaped by years of quiet resilience.

It was so familiar, so familiar like she wanted to cry. Her eyes scanned the young man's face, his well-aligned brows, his alluring amber eyes, his features, it was the same picture of his brother Cede. “Let's do this again in a proper way.” Yui, offer his hand to Cederick, “I'm Yui Yang. ” Nikka does the same, “I'm Nikka Steinmetz.”Cederick took their hands... He was about to say his name when Christine uttered confusedly, “Brother Cede?”