Novel & Cerita The New Yorker Candace Bushnell

I stood at the other end, my hand smoothing my skirt and my other hand positioning the ID card hung on my neck. Elena Carter Journalist New York Times My gaze fell to the ID on my neck, I felt so proud. I had worked hard for this. A few years ago, I was running around every corner of New York City searching for stories that would make a good headline but now here I am, I was even invited to give a speech at the opening charity event where all notable elites from across the city were invited.

On the first floor inside the Central Exhibition Hall. Those who were able to attend this auction were all famous figures from nearby cities. This kind of event also saw many handsome men and beautiful women in attendance. Cassy, who came dressed extravagantly, was undoubtedly one of the sharpest. She wore a long peach-colored dress that made her skin look brighter. Cassy was a TV host in Sire City with some fame. So wherever she went, she attracted a lot of attention. "Isn't that Chester Yale from Galaxy Corporation?" "Both the guy and the girl look incredible!"

Vanessa Hale, the woman who planned luxury weddings for billionaires and laughed at romance clichés, suddenly had no idea what she was getting herself into. But she couldn’t help thinking… maybe, just maybe, this scandal wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

he said, with a stern face. If he only knew how all together related the events were now. That I was the missing link to thread it all together, and that I would rather die than be seen as the Alphas’ mate. The future new Luna Keller. I am Cadence fucking Mattison, top investigative journalist whose name is always UNDER the headline. *In all fairness there’s never been a reason for us to be a headline before. What are you going to do write the entire ten pages of the paper yourself,* Fanny fussed.

Finn's POV: I looked around the crowded room and had to force myself not to yawn, i couldn’t stand attending events where everyone drank too much, laughed too loud and tried far too hard to impress each other, i knew i was what women considered a real catch. Hell, a stupid magazine had done a write up on NYC most eligible bachelors and placed my picture as number one, I had been furious and tried to have myself taken out of the article but my attorney had spouted some crap about freedom of speech, since the publishing of the article,i was being approached by even more materialistic females.

With that much vulnerability? “So, things are getting better, right?” Alexis nudges me, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Come on, I need some first-hand information. I am one of the top fans betting that you guys are going to be one of the rare power couples.” I shake my head amused by her words, scrolling further down. A particular caption reads: 'Is New York's most desired bachelor finally off the market? Or is the mysterious brunette just a passing phase? Cast your votes below!'

Billionaire heiress, corporate legacy, Yale graduate, a former VP of one of the most powerful family businesses in the country and she's walking into our conference room in, I check my watch, twenty-three minutes. Twenty-three minutes until I see her again. My phone is in my hand before I consciously decide to move. I pull up a private browser and search for more recent information, anything from the past week. My fingers fly across the screen, typing search terms, refining results, and digging deeper. There. A society blog from three days ago. The kind of gossip site that thrives on scandal and drama. "Leo Hunters Spotted Moving Out of Penthouse: Is the Queen's Marriage Over?"

My phone buzzed with an email from Maya: "Check the news. We just got mentioned in Forbes." The article was titled "How Two Executives Turned Corporate Scandal Into New York's Hottest Startup." "We're never living this down," Damien said. "Worth it?" "Absolutely worth it.”

A gossip column picked it up by Tuesday. The column was called City Notes and it occupied the specific niche of reporting on New York's wealthy without access to the wealthy, which meant it relied heavily on social media content and anonymous submissions and the careful reading of public documents. Its writer, a woman named Jessica Holloway who had been covering the city's elite for eleven years and had never spoken to any of them directly, framed the item as: Rumours are swirling that Reed Industries CEO Alexander Reed and chef Elijah Felix have reached a significant relationship milestone. Eagle-eyed followers of the Dominic Reed Foundation's I*******m noticed what appears to be a ring on

God knows the narrative didn’t need more fuel. The room was too clean. Too white. Too cold. I dropped my bag at the foot of the bed and sat down, staring at the blank TV screen like it might show me a different life. Then my phone buzzed. T*****r. I*******m. Blog links. “The Nanny Scandal: Who Is May Hemlings?” “Leaked Video Exposes CEO’s Secret Affair.” “From Nobody to Notorious: The Woman at the Center of It All.” I threw the phone across the bed. It bounced once, landed screen-down.