روايات وقصص ضمن The Great Gatsby

“You’re brutal. Correct, but brutal.” By 4:00 PM, the gifts had escalated to the absurd. A first edition of The Great Gatsby—because I had once mentioned I liked the tragedy of it. A set of Japanese calligraphy pens—because I liked to doodle on my scripts. A box of pastries from a bakery in Paris—flown in fresh that morning. “Okay, the croissants stay,” Katherine declared, shielding the pastry box with her body. “I have moral boundaries, and wasting French butter crosses them.”

“Sure.” Gasbty notified me of our flight and I rose to my feet, leaving the bill on the table with an extra tip. Then I whipped out my umbrella and walked under the showering rain. I knew the weather was slightly chilly but I didn't wear a coat on purpose. I wanted to feel the chill and the crisp air. I got to the car waiting on the sidewalk and closed the door. “How was your afternoon tea?” Gatsby asked as she took the umbrella from me. “Splendid. If I was a greedy bastard, I'd buy the whole place and keep their secret recipe for myself.” I smiled.

"What bridge incident? What have you done now to embarrass this family?" Sophia yanked her arm away. "Worry about your own daughter's scandals, Sandra. God knows there are enough of them." She stormed up to her room, her mind racing. Lucas Vanderbilt had found her. The stranger from the club, the man who'd stopped her that night – he wasn't just anyone. He was *the* Lucas Vanderbilt. "Fuck," she whispered, sliding down against her closed door. * * * Lucas stood at his office window, watching the city lights flicker to life as dusk settled. His phone buzzed.

Katniss This time, Giselle and I didn’t go back to the villa or my apartment after the ceremony. Rather, we got to the palatial house of Mr. Corleone who was a very influential and wealthy man. The opulence of the surroundings intimidated me as if I were a bird confined in a cage of gold. This mansion, which we were to spend our first night as “husband and wife” was as quiet as the grave, the only sound being the wind blowing outside.

She stopped abruptly, then turned to me, “What are your favourites? I mean, apart from Pride and Prejudice. I tilted my head, “You want to know?” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and I wished I had noticed it first. “Tolstoy, Fitzgerald, and Baldwin.” “The Great Gatsby?” She asked, “Of course, you're the type of man who'll admire Gatsby. Rich, brilliant but lonely as hell.” She went on a full rant about Gatsby then, her hands gesturing animatedly, and I never wanted her to stop.

"That one is a classic, eh?" "Yes it is a true classic," Olivia said with a smile. "I've lost count of how many times I have read it." "I can imagine, can you relate with any of the characters?" Olivia shook her head. "I don't think so. Maybe Gatsby though, that desperation to be somebody and to be wealthy. I don't share the motivations, of course, just the desire. If I did have all that wealth I would be powerful and no one would believe they can control my life."

This exquisite gown had been personally tailored by the renowned designer, Summer Carter, known for her exceptional creations in the bustling city of New York. Lost in his own thoughts, Storm continuously glanced at his watch, oblivious to Scarlett's graceful descent. He had no desire to attend the event, preferring to immerse himself in his work rather than partake in such gatherings. However, he had no choice but to attend, as the man in question was a new investor.

Grace took out the emerald jewelry she had bought at the auction and called for the housekeeper, Britley Lawson. "Britley, help me find a gift box to pack this." "Yes, madam." Britley quickly wrapped the gift. Grace admired the packaging. "You're very good at this." "Madam, where are you heading today?" Britley asked. "Hawkins Manor," Grace replied. Britley didn't ask too much after that. Later, Grace chose a white Maserati in the garage and drove to Hawkins Manor. Since it was Elizabeth's birthday, Hawkins Manor was bustling, and the atmosphere was lively.

"The world will still be broken in the morning. He helped me as I lay back slowly and closed my eyes, the oxygen hissing in my nose. As I drifted off, I dreamt of a bridge. It stretched over a void. I was standing in the middle of it, watching the pieces behind fall away into the dark. Five hundred miles away, Roman Crescent suddenly buckled. He fell to the concrete floor, clutching his chest. The psychic link to his pack’s wealth had just vanished. the fortune that had sustained their legacy for centuries. It felt like a cold blade being pulled through his heart. He knew that, without a phone or a lawyer, Elara had pulled the final trigger.

SCARLETT FOSTER The light tap from the driver on the front window snapped the intense spell hanging between us. Caleb slowly pulled his hand back, though his burning gaze lingered on my face for a heartbeat longer before he turned toward the door. The driver slid into the front seat, quietly offering a brief apology before turning the key in the ignition. The engine hummed to life, and the Maybach pulled away from the rain-swept harbor overlook, gliding smoothly onto the freshly cleared highway.