Novel Upper Westside Novels & Stories

“But you are twice my age, how come I get to call you by your name but you can’t call me by mine?” “I’m afraid so, but I would like to be called Mr. Willard, if possible. But you may call me whatever you like.” “Okay,” I sighed, getting into the car. Arthur shut the door behind me and then we were off. I watched the large skyscrapers pass us by as we made our way to the Upper East Side. This was a place I rarely came to. It was the richer part of town and not a place that I blended into. The car came to the reputable Delmore Tower. To think that this man owned this building was insane. This place declaimed the biggest A-listers and most powerful politicians. My staying here was something tha

It was a nickname rather than an accusation. "The stranger is teaching me to play chess," Isabella said. "I beat him last time." "He probably let you win," Elena teased from the front seat. "He did not!" Isabella protested. "I'm good at chess!" "I'm sure you are," I said, smoothing her hair. "You're good at lots of things." We arrived at our apartment. A beautiful place in the Upper West Side. Three bedrooms, high ceilings and a view of Central Park. I had bought it with my own money.

"I've arranged a private clinic in the Flatiron district. It's completely off-grid. No digital records, no insurance trails. We go in, see the baby and leave." He paused, leaning back in the chair. He twirled a silver pen between his fingers, his eyes tracking the dark circles under my eyes. "And after that," Aris said, his tone shifting into something lighter, something almost playful. "I have a spacious apartment on the Upper West Side. Three bedrooms, a view of the park, and absolutely zero gang activity within a five-mile radius. It's quiet. It's safe. It's a completely mafia-free zone." He winked, a quick, charming flash of teeth. "If you need a place to land for a few days while you fi

He just waits for me to slide onto leather seats so soft they feel obscene. We pull into traffic. The city transforms through the tinted windows, the grime and noise filtered into a silent movie. We leave the hospital district—street vendors selling stale pretzels, pedestrians jaywalking, the honest grime of people surviving. We enter Midtown's steel and glass canyons. Then the Upper East Side. The buildings get taller. Cleaner. Whiter. The sidewalks are swept. Fifth Avenue. We stop in front of a boutique with no sign. Just a brass number on a black lacquered door.

**************************** Sophia Bennett’s Office — Manhattan, Upper Midtown The skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the 27th floor glass towers. Soft jazz murmured from hidden ceiling speakers, blending with the faint hum of city life below. The scent of white oud and cedarwood lingered in the air—her signature. A low, matte black bookshelf ran along the far wall, filled with business journals, first editions, and press kits bearing the Bennett Media Group insignia in clean gold foil. No family photos. No distractions. Just empire.

*** Upper East Side, New York Alessandra Walk the other way, Alessa. Stop following him. Stop going towards a man you know is not good for you. He is Danger incarnate. A mystery that should not be unfolded. But I wanted to-no- needed to know more. I needed to understand this deep sated fascination that I had for him and the impact he had left on me that one night.

“It’s filthy here. You can sleep on my jacket first. Please put up with this. We’re only going to be here for a night.” “How about you then?” Deirdre was confused because there was only one bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Don’t worry. I brought a jacket with me so I won’t catch a cold.” Tobey shut the window and moved to the sofa. “Sorry for troubling you today. We’ll head to the west zone first thing in the morning.” “West zone?” Deirdre was stunned. If she remembered correctly, the west zone was the area for the wealthy. It was the best location in Surstate, and the prices of items and houses were 10 to 20 times higher than in the east zone.

A ghost kept alive through scent. I hadn't set foot in this room since the reading of his will. Hadn't wanted to. Our brownstone on the Upper East Side held too many memories—most of them carefully filed under "do not examine closely." But Maya's foundation launch was approaching, and I couldn't keep avoiding certain truths.

From my perspective the apartment was my guarantee of next year's housing. Although I hadn't seen Nox's apartment on West 77th, I was certain my little one-bedroom couldn't compare to it or to Patrick and to Cy's on the Upper East Side. Nevertheless, I liked it. With its wood floors, white walls, and a galley kitchen, it wasn't pretentious. It was cozy. From its large old windows, I couldn't see the park. Instead, they looked out onto a tree-lined street, and just down the block was Tom's Restaurant on the corner. I planned to tell Nox—eventually.

I’m not sure I’m ready. But I’m going anyway. The plane lands at JFK at 6:47 AM. I didn’t sleep at all. Just sat there, touching my necklace, remembering. Derek’s address is in Manhattan. Upper West Side. A neighborhood I’ve never been to but my GPS knows the way. The Uber driver tries to make small talk. I give one-word answers until he gives up. We pull up to a beautiful brownstone. Old money. The kind of building that whispers Moore legacy even without a sign.