Novel & Cerita Novel Upper West Side

Eliora's POV The building stood like a tombstone against the gray New York skyline—an elegant, pre-war limestone structure on the Upper East Side that screamed of old money and secrets kept behind heavy drapes. I stood on the sidewalk, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face, stinging my eyes. I took a breath, held it until my lungs ached, and let it out. In and out. Just a person. Just a woman. But she wasn’t just a woman. She was the woman who had brought me into a world she never wanted me to occupy.

# Chapter Fifteen: Family Dinner Weston Cade's townhouse in the Upper East Side was the kind of beautiful that announced itself immediately and aggressively — antique furniture arranged with museum precision, a chandelier that had probably cost more than Ivy's entire restaurant business plan, and a housekeeper who took Ivy's coat with the practiced neutrality of someone paid handsomely not to have opinions about the guests.

They weren’t her. I didn’t tell her I’d be picking her up. I didn’t have to. The cab stopped at a narrow street lined with patched-up sidewalks and rusted gates. Children ran barefoot, dragging kites made of newspapes, and women yelled from balconies. The smell of burgers has raised the atmosphere. This was rural New York. Her house stood in the middle. It was small. It has some faded blue paint and a metal gate hanging slightly off the hinges. It was nothing like mine.

POV: Claire Desmond The tires of my white Honda Civic crunched softly against the pristine gravel of a boutique on the Upper East Side. The building was a masterclass in architectural arrogance—towering white columns, floor-to-ceiling glass framed in polished mahogany, and ivy that looked like it had been groomed by a plastic surgeon. I killed the engine. My fingers lingered on the key. Two weeks.

Adeline's POV --- I'm surely going to get arrested for this. I mutter it under my breath as I approach a Mercedes G-Class, phone raised. October sunlight hits the glossy black paint, the car glowing against the gray Manhattan sidewalk, screaming money I'll never have. Just another Friday on the Upper East Side. The street runs with its usual chaos. Businessmen rushing with heavy briefcases, a delivery cyclist almost committing vehicular manslaughter against a tourist squinting at G****e Maps.

I think I need a shower, along one pronto! I parked the car by the side of the road before I went out of the car. I got my luggage and went to the door of my apartment. I know what you might think, leaving in New York was nice but it has its downside. The wealthy were living on the best side of the city. Upper Side, Manhattan, you named it. But for me? Hah! I was on the Lower East Side. I was not that rich and I refused to get my support from my parents. And so, I relied on my scholarship money and my payment from tutoring that I do for the labs.

Marble lined the floor and countertops while each room was filled with bright light from the floor to ceiling windows that looked down at the vast city expanse below. My penthouse was on the upper east side of New York, where everyone had their own chauffeur, chefs and maids. I was one of the few who insisted on not being provided with such luxuries, and I was proud of the fact. My phone pinged in the background as I poured out some coffee. I sipped the black liquid allowing the caffeine to hit the right spot. I switched my stereo on, blasting the volume up high as “walking on sunshine” came on. As old school as it was, I loved the retro tunes.

I let him take me home eventually. I know this is a terrible idea and the wise thing to do is go find a place on my own and stay as far from him as possible. But so many ups and downs in one night, my head has already stopped functioning. So I go for the easy option. Not surprisingly, he lives in the fanciest place in the Upper East side. His apartment is huge and well-decorated, just like the one he had in Boston. I carefully step into the foyer, feeling both awkward and nervous. I glance around the spacious living room and notice no sign of trances of a woman.

"Good. Because if you do, I'll personally break both your kneecaps. And if I can't manage that myself, I know plenty of people who'd be more than happy to do it for me. Hell, I'll even beg Anthony to get involved if I have to." I smiled. "Noted." The drive across Manhattan felt longer than it should have. Traffic crawled through midtown, every light turning red just as I approached. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel, restless energy coursing through me. Katherine's penthouse sat in the heart of the Upper East Side, all glass and steel and money. The doorman recognized me immediately, stepping aside without question. The elevator ride up felt like descending instead of ascending.

An apartment he'd moved to after selling the Upper West Side place that had too many memories. I met him there at seven.