Counterattack Of The Superrich House Husband Chapter 1 นิยาย & เรื่องราว

He tapped the edge of the paper against his knuckles. "This is beautiful," Mr. Willoughby whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "This is absolutely beautiful. Julian Vane thinks he can rule this city just because he has billions of dollars and a big security team. He thinks he can just brush you aside, Mark. But he forgot one very important thing. He forgot the law."

“That thing was a burden. And this house? I’m selling it too. Buyers are coming tomorrow.” My breath caught. “You can’t sell this house. It was my mother’s. It’s mine.” “No, it’s not,” he hissed, stepping closer. “Everything went to me. You want to take it up with the council? Go ahead. Maybe they’ll listen to an impure wolf.” Rage boiled under my skin. “You’re disgusting,” I whispered. He laughed. “This house is too far from the city and it’s expensive. I got a good deal. And you? You’re married to a billionaire now, so stop acting greedy. You have no idea how the world works.”

This chapter is 1550 words — passes GoodNovel minimum 1500. Question: Should Gerald Hart go to jail for selling info, or stay dishwasher with ankle monitor? Comment: JAIL or DISHWASHER — Your votes decide if father is forgiven like mother was. Next: Chapter 16 — Pregnancy scare (Ava real, not fake). Who is father? Damian's last night before eviction or...? If you are reading to Ch15, you are core family. We have 15 chapters, 22k+ words — ready for premium contract! Please rate 5 stars! — Kelvin | Daily 12PM WAT | 15 chapters published

Soft, absurd timing, possessive billionaire Alpha. My gray-gold eyes flash. Ghost Wolf inside wants to run to Prince Street, to stone, to fight. "Flash marriage was Chapter 2," I say. My voice layered again. "This time I propose. After I make Bronx Alpha kneel." Marcus smiles, first time, gray-gold eyes wet. "That's my son. Ohio accountant to Luna King in eight chapters." Elevator dings again. Fourth black SUV no plates. This one smells like wet dog blood smoke and Bronx, bigger, and door opens and yellow eyes, bigger than Malrik's, look up at tower. Rorke Fang howls from Prince Street boutique below. Sound shakes Manhattan. Full moon still high. Sunrise in four hours.

She had been the one footing the bills in the house for the past few days. She understood the funding of the IVF must’ve drained her husband’s account, so she didn’t bother. She heard some voices from the seating room as she went to find out who they were. At the wall clock, it was 10 pm. “As you can see, Alison is moving in with me, “he said authoritatively. “I want you out!” “What?” You can’t be serious, Morris,” Isabelle barked. Her screams was trapped in her lungs, her voice stolen by sheer disbelief. Her tear gland was distorted, eyes welled with tears.

Julian’s heavy boot slammed down onto Silas’s wrist, pinning his hand to the floor with a sickening crunch of bone. "You brought a knife to my house, Silas?" Julian murmured coldly, aiming the barrel of his pistol directly between the debt collector's terrified eyes. "I brought an empire." "Do it," Silas coughed, glaring up at Julian with raw, psychotic hatred. "Pull the trigger, Sterling. You kill me, you get nothing. The Swiss hospital proxy triggers the second my heart stops. My fail-safe." Julian froze. Maya stepped out from the staircase, her blood running cold. "What are you talking about?"

she said, her words slow and deliberate, "that this house you’re standing in? It exists because of my husband’s money. So maybe you should think twice before throwing your weight around." My mother’s face twisted in disgust, her lips curling. "He gave me this house," she spat. "It has nothing to do with you." Aunt Rachel’s gaze didn’t falter. She smiled coldly, shaking her head once. "He — my husband — gave you this roof over your head. And that makes it everything to do with me." There was a sharp edge to her voice I’d never heard before, like glass splintering beneath her words. I should’ve felt tense. Afraid.

I figured she was helping her parents, covering her siblings, drowning in expenses. I never imagined this. That my wife—now a big-shot academic—could pull in millions from one project like it was nothing. And I never imagined every dollar went to another man. Yeah, I know. At my age, being jealous over this stuff is almost a joke. But after grinding for thirty-plus years, living like a ghost—don't I deserve an answer? That first night away from Janet and Asher, I actually slept. Really slept.

I sighed and leaned my back on the chair. “It will be over before you know it. Have you met his parents?” She asked. “Yes, I have. Mum, they're super wealthy. Everything screams wealth in that place.” I expressed my amazement as I remembered the mansion again. “Of course. They're the Ferdinands. Wealth runs in their family.” She confirmed with a smile and I nodded. My stomach growled and they laughed. I realized I was so angry this morning I forgot to eat. Damn it!

"HONEY!" Madame Madelle yelled angrily at her husband. "I'm descending! Just a second!" Her husband, Anthony Ybarra, responded with a louder voice. Anthony walked over and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Beautiful, aren't we?" Madame Madelle grinned. "Always, my love. Always this lovely." Anthony responded. "Of course, if I don't, you'll never love me," Madelle teased him. "What? Why do you think that way?" Anthony was upset.