Novel Delia Novels & Stories

The dark-haired man asked to be sure there was no way to get around this other than through violence. "I haven't started with you, Mr. Antonio. Since you've forgotten, let me jog your memory a little bit. I am that sixteen-year-old girl you found working with the Baroness, and you bought me, took my innocence, and slept with me whenever you wanted, whether I liked it or not. Finally, I ran away." Delia narrated. It was at this point that Fabian remembered her. "Clara, I thought you were—" "Yes, Clara is dead. The woman sitting in front of you is Delia, your nemesis. I won't rest till there's nothing left to pick from you."

"I ordered this for myself, I was just going to find a cool spot to drink..." Delia laughed. "You're still such a terrible liar Celine, and you're also very far behind. Do you think you are going to win over me with how slow you have been? Then again, with that face of yours, I understand why you are skeptical of putting yourself out there," she said, and my heart nosedived. "I have given my all to the company Delia, I won't allow you to steal it from me just because you think it's fun to destroy me"

Darius pov This feels so surreal, I never thought I will come to the underworld ever again. But here I am, in the underworld. Once upon a time, this is my home. Everything began here. Now this place is nothing but a bad memory. This is the place that has so many memories of Althea and me together. Everything is the same. Nothing changed much. My room where Ornan killed her, has a black burned mark on the wall. I guess my father never bothered to clean it up. Out of all the rooms, this one feels untouched.

She instructed her best friend and rushed to the bathroom. "What's this?" Tasha found something on her desk. she picked up the booklet and turned the pages, "A new novel?" she exclaimed. "Wait!" Arielle shouted from the bathroom, she had the habit to write it down instead of typing her stories, she used her gift to write 2-3 chapters of her new novel last night before going to bed. She rushed out with the toothbrush still on her hand. "Give that to me." "Nope. You're writing a new novel? A romance novel at that?" Tasha ran around the room reading the notes.

“But if she sees a handsome officer, something may happen; therefore I chose to bring her with me rather than leave her, especially as it is dangerous for a girl at home alone. But if I go without her to Rashroff, then let her grace give command to tie her with a cord, or she will play pranks.” “I was no better myself,” said Basira. “They gave her a distaff to spin,” said Zastar; “but she danced with it, since she had no one better to dance with. But you are a jovial man. Basira, I should like to have an encounter with Sir Novoveski, for I also am fond of amusement at times.” Meanwhile, before supper was served, the door opened, and Mellehov entered. Sir Novoveski did not notice him at once,

Eliza asked as she entered the room. “What?” Viviane coyly asked. “I heard something about facing your biggest fear head on,” Eliza said. “What’s going on?” Arthur eyed his daughter as he said, “Sit down and have some breakfast. Your mother made scrambled eggs with her homemade sausage. You know how you like her sausage.” Eliza smiled as she said, “I do love that sausage.” Then, placing her hand over her stomach, she added, “I’m not hungry, though. I think I’ll just have some coffee.”

She insists, "You had sex with me. The article said that you've only had sex with two people and I am one of them. It's so obvious that you're not over me. My name is Delaney, and Dels could be short for Delaney." "But it's not short for Delaney." I explain, grabbing Delilah by the waist and pulling her in front of me. I wrap my arms around her protectively, "Dels is short for Delilah, my wife, and the article is about her." I decide to be extra clear with my explanation.

DELILAH'S POV It’s been a week since I had started my new life. And seven days since I was spending my nights in the bakery. I didn’t gather enough money till now to look for a place. After all, it’s just the start of my work, I couldn’t expect her to pay me just now itself.

The silver thread glimmered like a dying star between my fingers as I pulled the final stitch. I had spent weeks carving a masterpiece out of a mess, breathing life into a gown that was little more than a hand-me-down from Nora, the chief maid. It was a relic of the royal palace, salvaged from the scrap heap of a life I was never meant to lead.