Novel Upper Westside Novels & Stories

here he turned to Basira: “We can take to Sir Rushet the letters which her grace, our benefactress, has mentioned.” “Thank you,” answered Basira; “there are occasions here continually, for men are sent expressly.” “All the commands must maintain communication,” said Sir Geswer. “But are you going to Rashroff, indeed, with this young beauty?” “Oh, this is an ordinary puss, not a beauty, gracious benefactor,” said Novoveski; “and I am going to Rashroff, for my son, the rascal, is serving there under the banner of Sir Rushet. It is nearly ten years since he ran away from home, and knocks at my fatherly clemency only with letters.”

I hugged her again in happiness. Eros’ Pov West Mansion has always been magnificent. It was everybody’s dream house. It wasn’t of a fair size, but it was enormously built with grey lyons bricks. They smelled of clean and age. The weeds and scrubs that usually covered the fence were now cleared and the grey lawn was even more visible. Small trees littered the compound and it gave the compound a darker shade. I inhaled the fresh air, away from the bustling of New York city. Sebastian drove into my garage. I had built mine to avoid competition of spaces. Yes, we even fought over trivial matters such as where to have your car packed. Would it be next to mom or dad?

“I’m in. Let’s meet tomorrow. 8 AM at the Baccarat Hotel. We’ll talk details.” “Perfect.” Marcus’s smile was audible. “And Sophia? Welcome back. The industry’s been worse without you.” That night, at 9 PM, the “Upper East Side Insider” blog went live. The homepage featured a sleek black-and-white design, no byline, no contact info—just a single blind item:

"Stay here with Chen. Don't go anywhere." "I'm coming with you." "Elena—" "We're partners, remember? You don't face your father alone." He looked like he wanted to argue. Then he nodded. Richard's apartment was on the Upper West Side. Richard's apartment was located on the Upper West Side, a prestigious address, but the building had a rough exterior. Paint peeling on the door frames. Carpet worn thin. Richard answered on the third knock, clearly hungover. "What do you want?" "Did you hire someone to kill us?" Dominic asked without preamble.

I cracked the seal and let the bubbles tickle my throat as I watched the skyscrapers pass by my window. I should have guessed that Michael’s penthouse would be on the upper east side, but I couldn’t help but stare at the buildings and how extravagant everything seemed compared to my dumpy little neighborhood. The driver pulled to a stop in front of a tall building and got out to open my door for me.

POV: Evelyn The Uber ride from the airport had taken nearly ninety minutes. Manhattan rush hour was a beast that didn’t care about my schedule or my fraying nerves. As the car finally turned into a quiet, tree-lined street on the Upper East Side, the late afternoon sun began to dip, casting a long, amber glow over the limestone townhouses. I sat up straighter, my chest tightening as I looked out the window. This wasn't just a neighborhood. It was a fortress of old money.

but it seems it was under a good rental agency, the building was in a good condition. “We are here.” Cassandra paid, said thank you and rushed out of the taxi. “Shit, I'm already late.” She stormed into her apartment throwing her wig on the floor. “God, you reek of alcohol. Are you drunk?” The petite housemate Renee, took the red wig with her finger and almost felt disgusted. She put it outside the balcony trying to wash away the smell with the smokey air of the Upper West Side neighborhood. “Hey, that's expensive.” Cassandra pushing her door room with her shoulder, threw her purse on the bed. She almost out of breath trying to be faster than she already did.

I should get out of here fast. I finally arrived at my penthouse located at one of the beautiful buildings in the upper east side of New York City. I live here together with my nanny and another maid. My parents were not here since they're busy running our hotel business, so basically I'm home alone. But I didn't mind it at all. I've gotten used to this situation. This is probably the consequence of being a rich kid. You'll have all the stuff you want but you can't be with your parents all the time. That sucks.

Sophie Parker wasn't an ordinary twenty-six-year-old girl. Born and raised in the Upper East Side, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods not just in New York but in the entire United States, and a member of one of the most well-known Jewish families in the city, she could have become the stereotypical spendthrift and superficial socialite, entirely dependent on her parents and preparing to rely on a husband in the future.

Everything that I thought was just a coincidence had been carefully engineered. Andrea was trying to ruin my life. "That bitch," I said quietly under my breath. "Let’s not jump to conclusions," Nina said. "It’s just a theory. You’ll have to go back to the government office and find out." After lunch, I had three appointments. I had to show two medium sized apartments in midtown, and then one huge luxury condo with 15 bedrooms, huge living room and dining room, a kitchen with floor to ceiling windows all on one of the best streets in the 80s on the upper East side.