Financial Peace

That day, my parents and sister who were all working abroad suddenly told me that I was a second-generation rich with trillions of dollars in wealth!Gerald Crawford: I am a second-generation rich?

Poor or rich, Influential or infamous, there will always be moments that has left us downcasted; moments becoming memories that has created a habitual space in our hearts. 24 year old Linda Solanke, daughter to political juggernaut and a career-crazy lady battles with her past which has become a strong contender as she thoroughly thrive to attain success in spite of nightmares, regrets from her past and confrontations from those she perceive as malicious. What do the world expect from a 24 year old lady? Success? Is marriage a necessity? When the troubled Linda meets the striving young man, Bode Thomas after giving up on love, we wonder if she will assure herself that life is not really as cruel as she had thought but can Bode's fiery nature make her tick? Will Linda look past her fears and doubts by finally pleasing the world by agreeing to the basis that she really need a man afterwards? Won't her past haunt her once more when things get better and the unexpected happens? When trouble set in once more, what should be done? Read and discover in "Sought-After Peace" a new thrilling novel!

It was stupid…stupid for him to think that money gives everything which was absolutely true. But, then will it give him love?Girls and Love were something far corner in his world and he had no time for them at all. His ego was something he kept in his heart and brain. But, when a girl entered his life with a slap, he only wanted to prove his egoistic side. He did everything to prove that to her. But, he miserably failed to know that she was precious.On the other hand, when she thought she had lost everything, he entered. But she failed to realize that it was his gameplay and would only lead to heartbreak and it did. After years of the tragedy he created, when she thought she was planning something in her life…he entered again.This time not to prove anything but to show her what her presence was meant to be for him and in what she was successful years ago. He knew he lost her but with a little faith, he was going to strive hard to go behind her and make her his again…only his.Would she be able to forgive him and would he himself be able to forgive him?His Lost Peace is created by Priya Amour, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

I was the stingiest rich wife in the city’s high society. I did not spend money on beauty treatments or travel. In fact, I did not even own a single decent outfit or a handbag. Everyone laughed at me. They said I had the fortune of a wealthy family but not the luck to enjoy it. However, what they did not know was that behind closed doors, Arvid Hans, who was famous for his lavish spending, was a hundred times stingier than I was. He piled on gold and jewels to keep up appearances in public. However, with me, he was a miser, refusing to spend a single extra penny. We split every expense down to the last penny. Every meal and every prescription required a receipt and an entry in the ledger. He said this was to help me develop a business mindset. He said that fairness and caution were the keys to a lasting relationship. While other wives were decked out in expensive jewelry, I was dressed simply. He said I was naturally beautiful and did not need such trinkets to enhance my looks. Even our housekeeper was hoarding gold for investment. Yet he kept me from touching a single penny, citing the Hans family’s tradition of being frugal. For three years of marriage, I lived like a devout nun, strictly adhering to the “rules of frugality” he had tailored for me. It was not until Christmas Eve, when I returned a day early from visiting my parents, that I discovered someone else had been living the life of luxury meant for me.

As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message. "You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately." I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself. The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring. In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face. The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago. The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead." Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley. Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places. If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill. When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove. Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans. As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden. It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me. I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley. From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.

Just how rich can a person be? My husband, Don Leonardo Bianchi, is incredibly wealthy. Every time he abandons me for his childhood sweetheart, Sofia Rossi, he gives me a building. The first time, it was a luxury apartment building with a sea view. The tenth time, it was a commercial property in the prime downtown area. By the 50th time, the general managers of several real estate companies had started calling me "Boss". Five years into our marriage, my real estate spreads across the entire country. When the deed to the 97th building is delivered to me, Sofia sends me a taunting voice message. "You might have the property deeds, but I have Leonardo. Aurora Esposito, tell me, which one of us is the real winner?" After listening to it, I don't cry or make a scene. Instead, this time I take the initiative to draft an agreement and wait for Leonardo to sign it. Once Leonardo comes back, he signs it and praises me for being magnanimous. He then takes me to a party as his date. At the party, Sofia loses game after game and is stripped down to only her underwear. When she loses once more, she turns to me—who is wearing only a dress—with a meaningful smile and says, "What's the fun in just me taking things off? I think Aurora, the perfect Donna, should join in too." Amid the clamor of cheering, I quietly look at Leonardo. "You just have to take off one piece of clothing. Don't spoil everyone's fun. When we get back, I'll give you another building," he whispered to me coaxingly. I calmly acquiesce. Little does he know that he won't have another chance to give me anything, because what he blindly signed earlier is our divorce papers.