Filthy Rich Age 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."

He stares pointedly, not the least bit apologetic. I want to be incensed, but this isn’t exactly a newsflash for me. The man didn’t become a billionaire by simply sticking a silver spoon in his mouth. He bought and sold companies until he’d built his own dynasty. At forty-two, he’s wealthy, affluent, revered and still so fucking mysterious. And I, at the age of twenty-six, am too enthralled by him by far. I should tread much more lightly. I understand how incredibly lucky I am to be considered a Jameson Richards confidante. Regardless of not being the cream of the crop, I am in the club.

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?

“ Mr. Morgan ” “ Sir?” Alex called while tapping his sleeping boss. The middle-aged secretary stepped back staring as his boss opened his eyes slowly. Alex straightened his back and his Dark blue tie which matches his Dark suit. “ How can I help you” Chris grunted out, the day has not been a good one for him. Well, which day was ever good for Mr. Chris Morgan? Yes, he is the richest businessman in the entire city at just thirty years of age. He inherited the company from his father on the verge of bankruptcy at the age of twenty-five and since then he has worked hard to make the company what it is today.

Rich, by the looks of that leather jacket and the Italian shoes he was wearing. I looked right into those gray eyes, so light they almost looked wrong in that handsome, chiseled face. His skin was smooth and devoid of wrinkles, but his eyes spoke about his age. “What makes you think I don’t donate millions to charity, and spend my spare time playing with stray puppies?” “I can smell the money on you from a mile away,” he smirked at me, giving me a look that made me feel dirty, even though I’d taken a milk bath before coming to the club.

Nothing tacky and nothing excessive. Well… maybe a little excessive. But it was my birthday, so who cared? Twenty-five. Some people panic at that number. I don’t. I’m filthy rich, heir to Villaflor Empires, owner of Villaflor Industries, self-made billionaire. Food productions, telecommunications, even businesses that practically print money. Life has been generous. Still, birthdays have a strange way of making even the most confident man reflective.

Amy's POV “Little Richie Rich.” He sneers in a way that is unbecoming of a thirty-five-year-old man. It’s obvious that he’s jealous of the other man, as he should be. Nathan Adams has his life together and is a thousand times more successful than Austin can ever hope to be, despite the fact that he is a good three years younger than Austin at thirty-two years old. “Yeah, the little Richie Rich, who is filthy rich and has several successful companies that are raking in even more money for him on an hourly basis. What about him?” I point out, and Austin’s scowl grows deeper, until his eyebrows are all but touching each other.

“You poisoned a girl who had done nothing but her job, in my house, because she heard you plotting. You are a pathetic, greedy little man playing with our father’s toys.” Terror contorted his features. Then, something else flickered behind his eyes—a desperate, wild calculation. It wasn’t surrender. It was the look of a cornered animal choosing to chew off its own leg. “You think you have it all figured out?” he whispered, a hysterical laugh bubbling under the words. “You think you’re clean? You built your empire on the bones of that business! The start-up capital, the political favors—it was all his! You’re just the sanitized version! I’m the honest one! I’m not pretending!”

Let them talk. After all, it was true that he one of the wealthiest people on the planet. He had inherited his father’s company after his death, building it from the modest company it was now to the large conglomerate it was now, building his own investment company alongside it. He was worth hundreds of billions, and was the youngest richest man under thirty, as he was twenty-nine years old. On top of that, he was undoubtedly blessed with good looks, which only increased his appeal. Women and men wanted him, tried to throw themselves at him every time for a chance to date him.

Everyone knew these faces. The first man was tall, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that probably cost more than everything I had ever owned combined. His hair was dark and styled back, his jaw sharp, his eyes intense even from a distance. Alex Albert. The youngest billionaire CEO in the world. Twenty-eight years old and worth more money than some small countries. His face was on magazine covers every month.