Deeper Than Money Novels & Stories

The Anatomy of the Generational-Audit This was the "High-Concept-Core." The $1,000,000 debt from Chapter 1 had been the "Tension" that created the "Diamond." In the "Void," that tension was the "Proof of Purchase." The "Un-Born" were using their "Pure-Neural-Lattice" to "Infiltrate" the "Memory" of the "Billionaire’s-30-Day-Debt."

Because, Darryl has never made such comments about her to anyone else before. To calm his anger, she said apologetically, "It's okay! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just angry earlier. Please, let's forget it. Baby, I was thinking of going for shopping, but I don't have enough cash on me." Abigail said, trying to change the subject. Darryl took a black card on his desk and passed it to her."It has 1 billion dollars. Spend it however you want." Abigail was so happy. That was more than enough to make sure that her plan worked perfectly. She could pay whoever she wanted to pay and hire whoever she wanted to.

You have been abiding too long with ghosts. "Humour me," I said calmly. "Before my patience runs out." He examined me at the edge of his glass. "You're asking about old money. Blood money. Before you were ready to rule." "And yet it still moves," I said. "Quietly." Vittorio leaned back. Dino, everything old is still breathing. You are the one who should know that, of all people. I leaned forward slightly. "Was it yours?" His smile was broad and very gradual. "Why ask me?"

He was a grown ass thirty year old man with a billion dollar company to his name. Yet fear still accompanied the thought of his father being alive. "Earth to Ryke, so we are calling and telling them you got hit by a truck right?" Ryke blinked, "No Crystal. This is really important". "I don't get it. Don't you already have enough money?" "It's not about the money. It's about networking. Didn't you learn anything from Logan?" Her phone started ringing. "You just had to say his name didn't you?" She ignored the call. "You're still not talking to him?"

Dirty money smells like copper, stale sweat, and fear. It has a texture—gritty, used, passed from desperate hand to desperate hand in the dark. Clean money has no smell. It is digital. It is a stream of zeros and ones flowing through fiber optic cables buried deep beneath the ocean. It is invisible, weightless, and absolute.

Densely packed financial statements, bank transfers, asset transfers, and shipping lane and dock transfer documents rolled past one by one. The entire crowd watched in dead silence, not daring to blink. Martin was completely dumbfounded, his mouth hanging wide open in shock. Because beneath all of those documents, in the most prominent position possible, was my name on every single line. I looked at Martin's reaction with satisfaction and snapped my fingers. The screen shifted once again. In the report, a single line of text was exceptionally glaring. [Martin's current assets: 0 dollars [Current total debt exceeds one billion dollars.]

It was like heaven had also become much, much closer. “Giovanni,” I cried, his name again aching my back, making him slide deeper into my throbbing pussycat. Giovanni’s hands moved under my body, clasping the cheeks of my bottom as he angled his thrusts. This time, he went so much deeper into me, and with every plunge of his length, it would rub against the sensitive nub of my flesh, making me gasp. I had thought that there would be no greater pleasure than what his thrusts were already giving me, but this—

He was sweating, his hands trembling slightly as he greeted Matteo. "Don Matteo," Thornton’s voice was strained, forced. "I... I wasn’t expecting you." "You should have been," Matteo replied coolly, stepping inside without an invitation. "Where’s the money, Thornton?" Thornton’s face went pale. "It’s... it’s complicated. You have to understand, I—" "I don’t need your excuses," Matteo cut him off, his voice low and dangerous. "You owe me, and I expect you to pay." "I will, I will. Just... please, don’t hurt me." Thornton’s voice wavered, his desperation clear. "I have something else I can offer. Something more valuable than money."

He asked. “Technically this isn't a job. This is me working off my debt. I didn't have to put in an application. You didn't have to check my resources, references, or whatever jobs check. And I certainly don't get a paycheck at the end of the week.” “Then no, I guess this isn't a traditional job. But you do work here, and you are getting paid. It's just the money is going towards what you owe.” “Yeah. Well, did you think maybe, perhaps, I might need the money to go toward something other than your stupid bike? Maybe I might need the money for something else? Something much more important.”

The money had been helpful to her family. "May I ask what your dream job is?" Henry asked, intentionally not driving fast so he could spend more time with her. "Well, I mean I just never saw myself being responsible for the day to day activities of a mighty mansion. I always knew I wanted a better life. You know, to have enough money, go on vacations, buy anything I want and also provide for my family. That alone motivated me to have good grades in college. I studied Business Administration intending to be successful in the business world but life as usual throws surprises at us."