Sarah Spencer Diana Novels & Stories

Spencer POV: I feel so happy, finally she said yes. I know it's fake. But I will make it real. I just know that I want to know her personally ,in every way. I just want to become a part of her life. i feel scared when Sarah show up. i feel like she will misunderstand but she doesn't react at all. i feel sad that she doesn't feel anything towards me. But i will make her mine in every way, for that i will have to do lot more things that i really don't want to do. But I will get her.

A perfect fitted model. "You! What are you doing here?" Diana retorted. Alicia had glanced back at Sarah who stood some inches from her desk, a bit close to them, mouthing a "be careful". What did the woman mean what was she doing there? Was she blind to see her corporate attire? This was their second meet and she was fond of stirring up trouble. "I'm Michael PA." Diana had thrown her head backwards and flipped her long bone straight hair. She must have been really be spending a lot of money to make her hair look like that and smelling like heaven. It complimented her skin tone, beautifully.

She knew she would never be able to stand out in this manner and would have to do something different. Diana sighed sadly and then walked out of the classroom, when she spotted Sophia who was talking to a teacher about some history questions. Diana's blood boiled in anger as she glanced at Sophia. "Well atleast she is not interested in the prince now. " Diana walked away in much anger andcwas crossing the busy hallways, when syddenly her gaze fell upon the notice board of the college.

Even standing here today, they still felt as if in a dream. "Mr. Jonathan." Diana turned around, wearing a polite smile. Before Mr. Jonathan could speak, Sarah rushed over and grabbed Diana's arm. She praised continuously. "Diana, you look stunning today, having had a child seems to have made you even more beautiful!" Diana smiled, "Sarah, long time no see, you're looking better too." "Diana, I made clothes for your baby, take a look and see if you like them." Sarah eagerly pulled out the little outfits she had prepared from her Hermès bag.

Diana whispered. Sara stepped forward, her chest nearly falling out of the dress she wore—Diana’s favorite dress. Diana blinked in disbelief. “Wait… why are you wearing my dress? That’s mine. I wore that to my birthday dinner last month.” Sara said nothing. Instead, Andrea stepped in with a smirk. “I told her she could wear it. She looked better in it anyway.” Diana turned to him, jaw clenched. “That’s not the point, Andrea. That dress—”

What she had done put Sarah’s life at serious risk. This wasn’t an accident. No, it couldn't have been. She must have planned it. Diana did this to get revenge for Alex’s death that day. But if she wanted revenge, the target should have been me, not Sarah. How could she go after Sarah, who wasn’t even a threat? It wasn’t Sarah who ruined her life. It was her own choices that destroyed everything. She had no right to take it out on Sarah. If she wanted to invite death upon herself, then that’s precisely what she would get.

SARAH “I can't believe it. I’d watched this so many times but it’s still giving me butterflies!” “I couldn’t believe it either! Who would have thought that our Spencer would finally fall in love like this? Look... he was so sweet and tender with Fae here! Thank goodness there was a video; otherwise, no one would have believed it. He’s always so reserved… but kissing and dancing on the dance floor? I’d never seen that boy act like this before!”

Looking at the both of them, his eyes held a hint of surprise, "Diana, do you know Ms. Emerson?" "Ms. Emerson? Is she Mr. Winchester's wife, Ms. Hannah Emerson?" Diana froze and smiled. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Diana Sorsby." It turned out that this was Kenneth's younger sister, the eldest daughter of the Sorsby family, who was studying abroad. After greeting each other, before Hannah asked, Diana laughed and said, "Kenneth has been talking about you non-stop, telling me to learn more from you. Especially …"

"Your name is Spencer Hayes, 25, fashion designer. You're a self-proclaimed fashion icon." "Everyone knows that since I am quite famous, you know." I said. Dmitri continues while leaning on his bike. "You're a social media enthusiast, love luxury brands, and have a penchant for high-society events." My mind reels—this asshole is keeping a tag upon me. "But that's not all, Spencer," Dmitri says. His voice drops to a whisper; my blood runs cold. What does he know more? "You belong to a royal British bloodline."