Bribing The Billionaires Revenge Novels & Stories

“What the hell?” I laughed. “You want this thing back, huh? But what do I get to show this generosity?” “Do you not have enough money that now you’re putting a price on your rare act of humanity?” “Well, it’s a wicked world out there. Everything comes at a price. Now, tell me. What’s in it for me?” “What do you even want? You already have everything.”

"Haha! Little girl, you don't understand. It's not done like that." "No! I think everything could be bought with the right price. You just think I can't afford it. Maybe I can't, but my husband, Devon Grey, can. I am sure you might have heard of him, the ruthless billionaire. If you help me, he will surely reward you properly." I raised Devon's name with the hope that it might make him rethink, and surprisingly it was very effective. "Did you just say that your husband is Devon Grey? The ruthless billionaire?" He looked alarmed.

"If you need money, I can give it to you. Just let her go!" The robber just laughed, a cold, menacing sound. "You think you can buy us off?" he sneered. "We're not just doing this for the money, pal. We're doing it for the thrill of it. And you're just a foolish hero trying to save the day!" Lucas felt a surge of anger, but he knew he had to keep his cool. He took a step forward, trying to get closer to Adelaide. "Please, just let her go," he repeated, his voice calm and steady. "You don't want to hurt her, I know you don't."

Stupid girl. A smirk crosses his face as he looks me up and down, like a lion eyeing its prey. I swallow hard. No! I won't let him get me. Mustering all my strength, I shove him hard. He staggers backward, clearly not expecting my actions. By some miracle, the elevator doors close just as he lunges forward again. “Goodness. That was close,” I mutter, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. Why did I think slapping a billionaire was a good idea? First, I stole from him, and now I slapped him. I wonder what Mother Annabelle will say now.

Think about how your daughter has become such a petty person. “I think Evie made him do this dad, she made him take the deal from you because she’s angry. I mean why would Alexander King, someone who had the whole world and country under his feet want a simple deal from that company? He’s getting revenge on us, that’s just my opinion though,” I added and went back to massaging his shoulders. The living room became silent as they mulled over what I just said. I wasn’t going to stop until they knew that their daughter is nothing but a rich brat.

In that moment, I understand something deeply uncomfortable: There was never a single villain. There was a chain. Pressure at the top. Ambition in the middle. Silence at the bottom. And the system rewarded all of it— Until it didn’t. When my phone buzzes, I don’t need to check to know who it is. Quentin. I answer. “October?” he says. No greeting. He knows. “Yes.” A pause. Longer than any he’s allowed before. “So it’s that now.” “Yes.” Silence again. And then, quietly—

His mechanical claw opened and closed, a nervous tic. "REWARD FOR CAPTURE OR CONFIRMED TERMINATION:" The number that flashed on the screen was so large it didn't look real. It looked like a phone number. "10,000,000,000 UNIVERSAL CREDITS." Ten billion. It was enough to buy this entire city. It was enough to buy a small country. It was enough to make a saint murder his own mother. "ADDITIONAL BOUNTIES: 1 BILLION PER ACCOMPLICE."

Desperate times require desperate measures. "Because I chose you. I could have picked anyone to be my bride. Any lady would have jumped at the opportunity, so if I choose you, you should be happy. Do you know how much power comes with being my wife?! Wouldn’t you like to use that to your advantage—to get revenge on those who did you wrong?" he said, taking puffs of the cigarette he had just lit. The room’s full light wasn’t on; everything was dim, and with the smoke, it was hard to see his expression. I’d never thought of getting revenge, and even if I wanted to, why would I get help from this commanding, arrogant man?

"Wipe the floor with your dirty sleeves, driver," Kiara ordered coldly, her absolute victory echoing on the quiet terrace. "And keep the tip. You clearly need it to buy better bandages before I make you drive me home." The crisp, pink five-hundred-rupee note floated gently through the air, landing softly in the puddle of diluted blood and freezing condensation near the toe of Aryan’s scuffed shoe. The three billionaires—his former brothers—watched in breathless, morbid fascination. They desperately wanted to see if the great Aryan Singhania still possessed a single ounce of human dignity. They wanted to see if he would finally break and scream.

Her fingers found the rabbit’s ear and smoothed it. The man finally spoke. “We have orders to ask you about property transfers linked to Blackwell Global,” he said. “We have a few transactions that look irregular. We need to know where you got funds from, and who you spoke to in the last year.” Elara stared at him. “I don’t know what you mean. I have no funds. I left everything.” He opened the folder again. A single paper slid free. It was a printout of a transfer. The numbers were small but real. There were bank names, dates. Her name was on one line. The feeling that rose in her chest was not fear but cold.