Built To Sell Novels & Stories

I shrugged. “Well, I think you could make quite a lot selling handmade furniture if the bassinet is an example of your work.” Elaine sighed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I don’t want to make money selling the things I made. I build things because I want to, not because someone commissioned them. Yes, the Yoda pod stroller was commissioned, but I didn’t ask for money. I wanted to build it for Ryū. “Thank you, Elaine. But I only build for fun, so I wouldn’t probably ever sell my work.” I shrugged.

That’s not what comes naturally between us. That’s not what I want, and I’m pretty sure that deep down, it’s not what she really wants, either. What she really wants is to serve me. “They’re not going to want to sell,” my realtor says. “That building is hugely profitable for the property management company. They rent some of those units for—” “I don’t care. Whatever the cost, whatever you have to do to make it happen, get them to sell.” “Mr. Garvalle, I really don’t think…”

Carter had been on his boss's jet for a few hours, so he felt in need of a drink. - "The real estate company wants to sell the property for a very high price, and you know it. Waiting for the crappy apartment for a few more months won't be a problem, but buying it now will definitely be" Evans was restless inside. He walked over to the glass that separated him from the lit city and sighed, turning the ring on his ring finger as he thought. That was what set him apart from thousands of other people. No matter what he felt, he always hid it.

No matter how much she tried to convince herself it wasn’t real, the truth weighed heavily on her chest: she was being delivered like a sacrifice. Her phone buzzed softly beside her—a message from Sophie. *Where are you? You sound scared. Please call me.* Amelia swallowed and locked her phone without replying. What could she say? *I’m on my way to meet the man who bought me.* The car finally slowed. When Amelia looked up, her breath caught. The building towered above them, sleek and imposing, all glass and steel. It looked cold, untouchable, and powerful, just like the man waiting inside.

There was no malice, just cold efficiency. “Are you saying this is… legal?” I asked. “Legal enough,” Liam said with a smirk. “No paper trail. No pack drama. Just a clean deal. You pay, I deliver.” I let out a breath, knowing that desperation was creeping in where resolve used to be. “Show me what you’ve got.” Liam’s smile widened. “That’s the spirit.” The casino lights were all for show. Flashy. Loud. Distracting. Designed to make humans feel like they were on top of the world, drunk on adrenaline. I didn’t even glance at the tables.

*Patricia’s POV* I felt the tension that surrounded the entire kitchen of the bakeshop as the news about the new owner spread. Everybody’s wondering why the old owner of the bakeshop sold the rights of all the branches of this bakeshop since business was doing well and in fact, the name of the bakeshop has been a household name already. They say that it was sold to an old man, but since he got sick, his son came to take over and handle the business.

The metal shimmered in the cold wind. "Is that a castle?" I whispered. Selene looked just as stunned. We watched as the car crawled up a driveway that seemed to hang off the edge of the world. The road was a narrow strip of stone with no guardrails and a lethal drop on both sides. This place wasn't built to be welcoming. It was built to kill anyone who tried to get in. "Definitely a castle," Selene agreed. "Think they have wifi?" I asked. It was a joke, but my voice was small.

The heat of the afternoon sun was nothing compared to the slow-burning fuse lit deep within Orion’s chest. As he navigated the manicured lawn, his presence acted like a tidal wave, parting the sea of socialites and businessmen. People reached out to touch his sleeve, to offer a handshake, or to pitch an idea to the youngest CEO to ever dominate the national market, but Orion moved past them with the single-minded focus of a heat-seeking missile.

"What the hell happened here?" Donald stepped forward. "Mr. Olson, these people wanted to use a woman to pay off their debt—" "I've said this before." Uncle Wesley's voice was cold and unyielding. "Don't bring just about anyone here. "Get rid of them." He turned to leave as soon as he finished. No! I summoned everything I had left to push myself up, but my body gave out, and I crashed back to the floor. My throat refused to make a sound. Uncle Wesley's footsteps didn't slow.

“Ask your boyfriend what his people did to us.” “Sorry — I mean your boss,” she corrected herself quickly, the word dripping with false politeness. She straightened, smoothing down her blouse as if composing herself for a fresh angle. “Your sister is here to stay with you. To help ease your burden.” “Ease what burden?” I asked flatly. “Have you forgotten?” My voice rose despite myself. “I’m a slave — a toy — sold off by you. Unless, of course, you’d like your own daughter to be one too.”