Even Money Book Novels & Stories

I look at my phone as if it is possessed, my mind is struggling to process why someone would be calling me. “Hello?” “Hello, is this Rayne Whisper?” “Yes, who is this?” “My name is Daniel, and I am calling from Elite Saddles to discuss the saddle design you emailed to us.” I stop breathing from shock, I only emailed them an hour ago and I never expected such a fast response, not to mention I only thought they would send me a polite email. Yet here I am speaking to someone from their company on the phone. “What do you wish to discuss Daniel?” “Miss Whisper, your design is truly inspired, and we wanted to know how you managed to come by such an idea?”

Stammering a little, he said, "Well, you see, the Favonis are collaborating with our modest enterprise to set up these bets." "The three most popular ones… I mean, four," the bookie corrected himself as he glanced at Walter nearby, "are for Jaden Favoni to win in ten strikes, fifty strikes, or a hundred strikes." The bookie was so nervous he completely forgot about the fourth bet started by Walter with a whopping five million dollars, even though he just mentioned it. "Hmm…?" Gene scowled to no surprise, his reaction no different from Walter's. "What about the fourth?"

Power joins hands with money and they are a synonym to a single term, which is ‘Authority’. I finished my business on her bed and then kept roaming around for a little bit. She did not have a diary or anything; she didn't even own a laptop. How did she manage to study so far? She literally does not have a thing besides her mobile phone. I went to my room and grabbed some stuff.

Satvik mumbled and we all heard the bell ringing. Manvi left us to see who it is and returned after a few minutes with a courier and stared at us with worry. “No one was there except this.” Saying that she passed the cover to Uncle but Satvik snatched it and opened it. He took out one paper and started reading not making a sound, but suddenly glanced at me making me frown. “What is it?” Uncle asked and he calmly passed the letter to him before taking out another thing which turned out to look like a legal document.

] [Male lead Ezra Everton's love meter has exceeded max capacity! [Hidden fortune unlocked!] [Massive asset transfer in progress... 3, 2, 1!] Then a bank notification popped up: [Deposit Alert: $10,000,000.00 has been credited to your account ending in 8888 on May 5. Memo: Future Mrs. Everton Fund.] Six zeros. Seven zeros. Ten million?! I froze. My hand went numb. And my phone slipped from my fingers. Ezra caught the phone smoothly, glanced at the screen, and raised a brow.

And once you know that—once you really know it—there’s no going back. I was halfway through a third whiskey when the phone buzzed on the table like an accusation. A fight notification — not one of the glossy promoter streams, but the underground feed I’d been following for months. The main event had shifted: someone at the book was pulling out and they were taking bets until the bell. Odds swung like a pendulum. There was still money to be made. There always had been. My chest tightened the way it always did when the numbers started to line up in my head. I reached for the app, thumb already hovering over the amount I usually started with. Then my stomach dropped the size of a lead weight.

However, if I did not go on, I might never retrieve the money I lost previously. Conflicted feelings gripped me. My mind was a mess. During my hesitation, the result of another game was out. I casually glanced at it and widened my eyes. Book Lover had countless chips on the ranking list as shown on my phone screen. He went all in, placing a bet of 5 million dollars on the banker. The banker gained thirteen points while the player gained ten points. Book Lover won 30 million dollars. I fixed my gaze on the phone screen with fierce envy. 30 million dollars was enough to buy two McLarens.

"So this is what you look like. You're even prettier than I imagined. Nice to meet you. My real name is Calvin Fulton." Before this, Yvonne had only sent him a few blurry side-profile and back-view photos. Our figures were similar enough that he didn't suspect a thing. When I shook his hand, I carefully counted the long string of numbers floating above his head. I wasn't mistaken—it was ten digits long. But what shocked me even more was that the number was steadily and rapidly increasing. Was this what being rich was like? Calvin literally didn't have to lift a finger. He could just laze around and live off interest, and he'd still be filthy rich.

He shrugged slightly. Jasper nodded, his cheeks pinking again. Under the table, his knee pressed against Reid’s. “Okay,” Reid continued, pointing to the blackboard. “People make bets on all the fights, on who they think will win or lose. If you look at the fights, see the people carrying the books. They’re staff. The only bets you can make are through those staff. The earnings from those who lose their money are divided between the house, the fighter, and back to the people who bet correctly. The more losers, the better the profits for everyone.”

Sex. His hands were absolutely sinful. They were secretly rubbing his palm over my thigh and gave me that look in his eyes that he wanted it badly. I stiffened my body as soon as I feel him subtly groping my crotch in front of many people in this pub. He whispers to my ears, “Don’t worry I will pay you.” Money, I needed money to go back home. Even if my hands would get dirty, I would do it. “How much?” I asked. Calvin smiles, “How much are you?”