Does A Trillionaire Exist Novels & Stories

she whispered. I gasped. My throat suddenly felt very dry, not knowing how to respond to the information Natty had just given me. I just stood there, frozen. Apparently, my condition surprised Natty, so she tapped me on the shoulder a little hard. "What's wrong?" "Ah....," I stammered. "No, nothing. I-I just... I was wondering who the richest person was," I continued, ending with an awkward smile. Natty shrugged. "Well, no one ever knows. They were very secretive. The only legendary rumor I know is that they have a child. Whether male or female, it's also a mystery."

If I was this jittery now, what would happen when we'd be seeing each other every day? USA's most eligible bachelor. Heartbreaker. Billionaire at twenty-four. Were the most popular anecdotes used to describe him? However, one stood out the most to me; a billionaire at twenty-four. Really? His parents weren't dead yet so how had he been able to have all their wealth under his name? Unless it was by name only. Or maybe he'd made his own money himself? No. That was impossible. How did someone at his very young age of twenty-four amass such a large amount of wealth, especially if his parents weren't wealthy in the first place?

Influencer with an $800 skincare routine. Ah. There it is. “Theo Rodriguez Involved in Car Crash in Washington D.C. Fiancée Also Hospitalized.” That handsome face popped up on the screen. Smiling on a magazine cover. Youngest trillionaire. Global real estate king. Heir to an empire. Too rich to sleep alone. And apparently, too dumb to wear a seatbelt. I stared at the headline for a while. Not because I cared, God knows I didn’t, but because the universe really does have the weirdest sense of humor.

With trembling fingers, I swiped it open and typed: Alexandro Castello's net worth. The screen blinked, and then— My jaw dropped. The zeros blurred together, and my breath caught in my throat as the number stared back at me. A trillion. Not just a rumor. Not just an exaggeration. An actual, verifiable trillionaire. I sucked in a sharp breath, the weight of it pressing against my ribs. What the hell? I knew he was rich—everyone knew he was rich—but this? This was insane. This was the kind of wealth that didn’t even seem real.

“Men should be like Kleenex, soft and strong and disposable.” - Unknown author. Eduardo continued the presentation as if nothing had happened. He didn't give a damn what his peers thought of him. People talked behind your back all the time. He has been labeled a “billionaire playboy” and this has made him the center of much gossip and intrigue for years.

Alexander shut her out immediately. He was too busy talking to business partners and potential investors for his company, which was his major purpose for attending the gala. He didn't believe in the act of charity; to him, it was a waste of money, but these things needed to be done so that he could show off his company. A company that he was about to lose the majority shares he owned if he didn't get married.

Unless I'm the one who's being hunted, it makes no sense. "My house," Kaziel tells me, and my jaw drops. "What are you? Some sort of secret billionaire?" I ask, and he beams at me. "Ever heard of Lakewood Group?" I blink at him, bewildered. Surely, he can't mean— "My last name is Lakewood." My eyes bulge in their sockets. "No way." The Lakewood group is one of the largest trillionaire empires in the country. They're old money. Rumors say they sacrificed their women for wealth. All of their wives died at a young age.

Out of place. The door opened. The man who stepped out did not belong to her world. He wore a dark tailored coat, sharp lines, and quiet confidence. Silver cufflinks caught the weak winter sun. His posture was controlled, his expression unreadable. He moved like someone who had never been told no. Isabella recognized him instantly. Alexander Voss. The billionaire heir to Voss Enterprises. The man splashed across every headline since his father’s death three days ago. Rumors followed him like shadows, whispers of power, inheritance, and a will with unusual conditions.

“And?” “And that makes you leverage.” She frowned. “What does that mean?” “It means hurting you becomes a way to hurt me.” Aria blinked in disbelief. “Why would anyone care about hurting you?” A humorless smile touched his lips briefly. “You really don’t know who I am.” “No.” For the first time, Lucien seemed genuinely surprised by something. Then he walked toward a nearby table and tossed a magazine onto it. Aria looked down. Her breath caught. The cover showed Lucien standing beside politicians and businessmen beneath flashing cameras. LUCIEN MORETTI: THE BILLIONAIRE KING OF NEW YORK. Her eyes widened slowly.

The moment the metal hits the surface, the whispering behind us shifts from a low murmur to an undisguised roar. "Is that a black card?" one of the boys asks loudly, five more of his friends leaning over the partition to inspect the transaction. "Oh shit, it’s an Amex. Yo, dude, you’re fucking rich!" "Don't be illiterate, he's a billionaire," another responds. "He’s actually rumored to be a trillionaire through the sovereign defense sector." A very calm, probably the matured among the clique says. Now I’m the one looking up, my brow arching.