Ink Darling の小説・ストーリー

The house was quiet except for the distant, rhythmic lap of waves against the shore and the soft creak of the floorboards under our bare feet. Lila’s room glowed a soft, dreamy pink from her night-light shaped like a crescent moon, the canopy bed draped in gauzy white fabric like a little princess fortress. She was already sitting up when we slipped inside, dark curls a wild halo around her sweet face, clutching the stuffed wolf Dante had custom-commissioned for her third birthday—the one with the tiny silver collar embroidered on its neck in delicate thread because, as he’d told the maker, “she needs to know what forever looks like, just like Mommy.”

The girl turned her head to it. “Can I still have cake?” Lydia chuckled, the tightness in her chest easing slightly. “Of course you can still have cake. In fact, I think we need cake now.” “With pink icing?” “Extra pink.” “With sparkles?” “The sparkliest.” “And a crown?” “We’ll get three,” Lydia whispered. “One for you, one for ducky, and one for Grammy. Though mine has to be silver. I have a reputation to keep.” The little girl giggled then, a soft, sweet sound that made the nanny smile and wipe her eyes again.

About 20 minutes later, she finally came. An older woman dressed in extravagant clothes. I approached her. “Hello, Mrs. Winifred. I'm Dahlia, CEO of DAHL.” I smiled at her and handed her my card, she took the card from me, then looked at me from head to toes. Her eyes lit up the moment she sighted a scarf wrapped around my neck. “Isn't that Tonia’s latest design? I heard there are only three pieces available in Drawlwood. You managed to get one,” she seemed so excited.

"Without standards, there can never be improvement." -Taiichi Ohno- *** Damian was drying his hair on his bathroom when suddenly he heard a knock on the door so early in the morning, he had no idea who would come to his place at 8A.M and to be honest it annoyed him a bit. He opened up the door to find none other than his sister, Scarlett Heart, the owner of Scarlett Heart Beauty company and the wife of the one and only Carter Roman, a Wall Street multi-millionaire who owns his own private jet. One of her hand was holding Xenia, who stood there in her red dress and brunette pigtails which complimented her sweet youthful look.

Emily worked part-time in the most elite bar in the city. They called it, The Octagon. This was the only work that she could have in the evening since she was too busy at school in the morning. After her day classes, she changed her clothes from her school uniform to her club attendant uniform. She changed to a black mini-short dress paired with a red scarf tied neatly around her white long neck. She had a small rectangular gold-plated nameplate attached to the left side of her mini dress.

After a few tense moments, she heard the satisfying click of the door unlocking. Emily slipped inside, closing the door gently behind her. The room was lavishly furnished, a testament to Alex Walker's wealth. She quickly scanned the room, spotting the safe tucked discreetly in the corner. She approached it, her mind focused on the combination Inishola had given her. With nimble fingers, she dialed the numbers, praying that it would work. The safe door swung open, revealing the necklace, a stunning piece of jewelry that sparkled even in the dim light.

Emily Warner, the crazy and happy go lucky side-chick in all of the stories. She is happy that all of her friends met the man of their dreams but she hasn’t. She has never met a man who even remotely loved her. As a kid, she always hoped for a crazy life story like beauty and the beast or toy story or finding nemo. But she worked at a nine to five job, at the age of twenty nine, she was single, while all of her friends were either getting married or pregnant. And there she was sitting in front of the television, eating chips out of her hair.

A golden anklet accessorized her bare feet and a golden chained necklace with a fiery red pendant adorned her neck. Karrie took a deep breath before returning a smile. Her big black eyes mirrored her gratefulness to everyone who helped preparing. She tucked a loose strand of her short raven black hair to the back of her ears as she looked into her mate’s direction. She was forced to suck in a breath at the intensity of his stare. Slowly, she walked down the aisle, not breaking eye contact with the one and only alpha who she rightfully belonged to. She took in his appearance, her lips tugged upwards in appreciation.

Rhian Monteclara, a lively and charming 25-year-old entrepreneur, is the face behind the popular fragrance brand Glam Perfume—known for its tagline: "One scent, one story." Her magnetic presence easily captures attention wherever she goes. People are often drawn to her confidence, but some become unexpectedly put off once they see her bubbly and playful personality.