Swan Duchess Novels & Stories

The woman he chose had to be someone who would sacrifice and give. I had been that girl. When we first had dinner together, I insisted on paying. When he mentioned in passing that he needed new sneakers, I worked a month of part-time shifts in the freezing cold to buy him a limited-edition pair for his birthday. He accepted them without a second thought, never once considering what it had cost me. We married, had Ryder, and I gave more and more, until my sacrifices became invisible. Once money began to flow, Michael wanted more. He wanted to prove himself and to prove he could provide others happiness with his wealth and power.

He had become even more reserved than before, yet his methods grew increasingly ruthless, turning him into a living demon feared by everyone in the business world. Rumor said he remained faithful to his deceased wife by staying alone to this day. However, whenever I saw those so-called faithful headlines, I only found them absurd. One day, after training, the director of the ballet academy came looking for me. “Clara, your talent and discipline are undeniable. The academy is going on a world tour, and we want you as the principal dancer for The Dying Swan.” I froze, my heart pounding violently in my chest. Becoming a principal dancer had once been a dream so distant that it felt unreachable.

It was not like she did not have maids to take care of her in the Maximillan duchy, but she was so busy that she could barely take rest, so taking a good bath was out of the question. “Ah, how serene!” she muttered as she leaned in the bath. Her whole body was being taken care of with utter attention. “Young Duchess is very beautiful,” one of the maids said. “The young duchess’s skin is very soft and fair.” “The young duchess’s hair is very long and silky. The silver hair looks very good and elegant.” “The young duchess’s eyes are just like rubies. So beautiful!” I know guys, I know. Alessandra is beautiful, freaking beautiful, thanks to Duke Albert’s extraordinary genes. But the thing is, i

Even Helena, it seemed, was unsure what to make of it. "Are you thinking about the Duchess?" Saihan pressed again. Hugh looked up. "What do you think?" Kevin leaned back in his chair. "A noblewoman with keen insight. She’s impressive..." "But she’s a fraud," Hugh cut in, his gaze sharp. Kevin raised a brow. "Isn’t that what makes sense, Duke? Most noblewomen care only for finery, attention, or flattery... but this Duchess? She identifies what even some of our top officials overlook. Of course she’s different—she’s not Baron Galina’s real daughter."

Duchess Catherine continued, her expression growing more livid by the second. “I also heard your cub is a pure human? With no trace of gene injections or modification?” Marquess Maxxwell cut in calmly, his tone seeking confirmation as he looked at the parents, whose faces darkened further. “WHAT?!” Duchess Catherine roared, the disbelief bursting into a shockwave that nearly split the air. A pair of enormous white wings erupted from her back with blinding force, sending the crystal shards on the floor skittering. She lunged toward the stunned family of three, her overwhelming presence sucking the warmth from the room.

"Look, Aleksander, I was going to drag this out a bit longer, you know, make you wait for it. But I know your uncle, he's been good to the family, and I know about you." "A lot of people know about me." "Ah, yeah, that little interview of the youngest millionaire. Well, I'm not talking about that. I know the Makalov side of you, and I know that you're serious about my dessert. The current swan Queen is one of my top five best sellers. If you want her exclusively, we're talking about a large sum of money." Dax leaned forward, gripping the stem of his wine glass as he talked quietly. The air around us felt heavy, like a blanket of tension was draped over us. "The desserts get a good chunk of t

It was like seeing a goddess. Her hair was a pale purple–a faint lavender, it seemed to reflect a cool cold light. Her eyes were closed, and her body looked tiny on the giant wolf's back. But oh, her face was a face that wouldn't be forgotten in everyone's mind, easily imprinted on their memories. This was the second time they had seen their new Duchess figure. The first time was during the Old Duke's victory party after the war in the West. And at that time, the Luna was wearing a formal dress.

Somewhere in the shadows, the blinds trembled as if holding back the city’s chaos—as if the room itself was waiting, patient and watchful, for him to speak. Declan Patridge stood far away in front of his unlit fireplace with his back to Andrew, his hand buried deeply in his pockets, sleeves rolled past his elbow—the epitome of a man winding down after another busy day, but still, Andrew gulped—the sound loud enough to grab Declan's full attention. “What brings you back here?” His somber voice landed like a blade in the haunting echoes of the office. The strains of Swan Lake bled softly through the office, all strings and sorrow, echoing against the tall windows like a memory that refused to

That was a bloody slap in the face. “I have a much better love life than you, donna.” “Oh yeah?” I wiggled my brows before drawing closer. Somebody had news to dish. “Yes. Now back to work. This is the budget I received from the charity organizers. They are planning something big. 200 thousand pounds is a lot. Are they building a fucking church?” She handed me the budget and I skimmed through it. Some of the things on the list were utterly insane. Like a swan ice sculpture that cost a whooping 90 thousand.