The Gilded Years A Novel Novels & Stories

Nyx Calder learned early that survival had nothing to do with kindness. It was about timing. About silence. About knowing when to bare your teeth and when to disappear entirely. Kindness was a currency for people who could afford mistakes. Nyx had never been one of them. The gates of Briarcrest Academy rose from the mist like a judgment carved in iron and stone, their wrought crests catching the pale morning light. They didn’t swing open with ceremony or welcome; they parted, slow and inevitable, as if the school itself were deciding whether she was worth letting inside.

She tried to distract herself from the sudden tension by looking at the restaurant. The Gilded Lily lived up to its name. Its exterior was white marble and polished brass, its tall, arching windows gleaming with warm light, exuding an atmosphere of old-world royalty and new-world wealth. It was quite the opposite of The Cozy Corner, the casual place Lucian had taken them to for their date. While The Cozy Corner was a dim, informal hangout, The Gilded Lily was classically elegant and undeniably expensive—the typical place Vyr Machiavelli would pick out.

I will want him to abandon the mafia life but since I'm not sure of him, whether he'll be my forever, I can't say or do anything. We walk upstairs to the golden library, it's written so on top of it. The door is gold and giant, I believe this is the reason it's named so but when the door is pushed open and I see the interior, everything is gold, the book shelves and the ceiling, a gold chandelier stands in the midst, suspending from the ceiling, giving it powerful rays of light on the entire room. I feel this' my best place. "I think I can take a book from here?"

Chapter 34 The Gilded Lily restaurant dripped with understated opulence. It was an exclusive restaurant perfect for business meetings, and exactly why Davey had chosen the place. Thick, dove-grey carpets muffled the sounds of hushed conversations, allowing the clinking of crystal glasses and the murmur of discreetly placed fountains to dominate the soundscape. Tables were spaced generously apart, ensuring privacy. Each was draped with pristine white linen, adorned with a single, flawless orchid and gleaming silverware. The lighting, meticulously planned, cast a flattering glow on every face, softening wrinkles and highlighting bone structure.

the driver asked respectfully. I leaned back, closing my eyes. My father’s gentle smile surfaced in my mind. "Home," I said softly. "Pick up my dad. We’re spending the New Year in Azure Bay." The convoy began to move, dust rising behind us. Later, I heard that the Murrell family became the biggest joke in the area. Drake was buried in debt, wandering around the village muttering that he was married to the richest woman alive. Meanwhile, Diana lost everything over the fake silver bracelet incident. In the end, she suffered a stroke and was left bedridden, with no one to care for her.

Marcus grabs my waist and pushes me behind him, “Your highness.” He did a bow-like gesture. “What are you doing?” Marcus opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t. “ And do not even think about lying. Your job was to stay hidden and to keep your eyes on her.” The purple eyes slowly faded to gold and Marcus sighed.

“We stop them with leverage.” Isolde held the folder tighter. And in that moment, she knew. Velvet wasn’t over. It was evolving. And this time, they would burn it down from the inside out. Velvet’s newly christened backroom once the infamous Gilded Room had been reimagined as something deceptively mundane. The silk walls were now matte gray, the gold leaf swapped for brushed steel. Restraint masquerading as progress. But Isolde recognized the intent. They were dressing the same beast in a new skin.

Because he wasn't this way a few moments ago when we had arrived at the hospital. We pulled up to a place called The Gilded Talon. It was a five-star spot that screamed old money and power. When we stepped inside, I almost lost my breath. The ceiling was draped in gold-leaf moldings, and massive crystal chandeliers hung down like frozen rain, casting a warm, shimmering glow over everything. The floors were polished white marble, and the walls were lined with velvet curtains the color of deep wine. It was beautiful, but it felt like a cage—a very expensive, very shiny cage.

The lobby was marble and glass, cold enough to remind you you didn’t belong there unless you were carved from the same stone. The elevator ride felt endless. I caught my reflection in the doors: sleek black pantsuit, hair pulled back, red lipstick that said don’t mistake me for fragile. When the doors opened, I stepped into a penthouse that looked more like an art gallery than an office. Alexander stood by the window, city spread beneath him like a conquered empire. “Elara,” he said without turning. “You’re punctual.” “I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” I said, closing the distance between us.