Gringotts Bank Goblins Novels & Stories

After my husband's first love, Sydney Edwards, used me as a walking blood bank, I died in the run-down rental apartment my billionaire husband, Casper Hawthorne, had tossed me into like it was a blessing for me. Today was the third day since I had died. My six-year-old son, Adam, finally realized something was wrong. He had cut his finger while playing with his toys, yet I did not comfort him. He tore open a packet of crackers and raised one to my mouth to feed me, but I did not stop him. He lay in my arms, clutching my clothes and whispering for me. Still, I did not answer. Lost and panicking, he found my phone and called his father, Casper. "Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?" The man sent back a photo of himself having New Year's Eve dinner with Sydney and said in a cold voice, "She's just sleeping, she's not dead. Today is New Year's Eve. I'm busy. Tell that clueless mom of yours that when she's ready to admit she was wrong, she can come and look for me." After the call ended, Adam stood there frozen for a long time. He picked up the last biscuit in the rental apartment from the trash can, broke it in half, and held one piece to my mouth. "Mom, let's eat too."

My so-called best friend pretends to be me and steals my identity as the CEO. She spends money recklessly and announces she'll buy apartments in the city for our long-time employees. Everyone praises her as the perfect boss. Not only that, but she also steals my husband. Even my son calls her "Mommy". So, when I'm accused of having bipolar disorder and other mental health issues, no one speaks up for me. My young son has no idea that I am his birth mother. The company and assets my parents have left me have been taken by my best friend, too. In the end, my body ulcerates, and I pass away in a psychiatric hospital. When I open my eyes again, I realize I'm back on the day my best friend used my money to buy apartments for our employees. She stands in the center of the crowd, taking in all the praises. "You're beautiful and so is your heart, Ms. Moore! You care about us so much, always handing out bonuses. And now, you want to set up a fund to help us buy homes? I'd work for you until I die!" And so, I quietly change the password on the bank card that funds all this. This time, I'll make sure my dear friend and my beloved husband experience the "wonderful" life they truly deserve.

My father suffered a heart attack and collapsed. Emergency treatment required the installation of a cardiac stent. I asked my husband to approve an expense of 10 thousand dollars for the surgery. Cameron Lister, the CEO, refused coldly, "The company and family accounts have been frozen recently because of a major project. Your father has medical insurance, so just use a cost-effective domestic stent for now." He was the sole administrator of all the bank cards in my family. His reply made me sorrowfully realize something. Even though I was a genius architectural designer with an annual income of 600 thousand dollars, I was still not worthy of choosing a better life-saving device for my own father. It was a Twitter post forwarded by a colleague, freshly and gleefully posted by the company intern Wendy. [Cameron is so nice. I just said I liked painting, and he gave me a million dollars to organize an art exhibition. I love him so much!] I looked at my father lying on an extra bed in the hospital corridor, groaning in pain, and then looked at the photo of them sweetly embracing each other. I finally understood that Cameron had perhaps never truly loved me. He had only treated me as a stepping stone for his soaring career, and as a tool for him to exploit without limits. 'If this is what you want, Cameron, then don't blame me for being ruthless,' I said inwardly.

Debt collectors showed up at our doorstep when my mother's company went bankrupt. They said they would break one of my mom's legs if the money was not repaid within three days. I swallowed my pride and went to my girlfriend Jasmine, who had a net worth of over a hundred million dollars. I begged her to lend me $500,000 to get my family through this crisis. It was the first time I had ever asked her for money. She frowned but still agreed, saying she would have her finance department transfer it to me that afternoon. I waited by my phone, refreshing my bank balance over and over, from daylight until nightfall. However, she suddenly went completely silent, ignoring my calls and messages. Anxious and restless, I tried to comfort myself, telling myself she might just be busy with something urgent. Still, saving my mom's leg could not wait. In the end, I had no choice but to take the watch my father left me before he died and bring it to an auction. I did not expect to run into Jasmine at the auction house with her childhood sweetheart, Lionel. She was spending money like it meant nothing, bidding on an expensive painting for him. The final price of that painting was exactly $500,000. She had not forgotten about me. It was just that my desperate emergency meant less to her than the man she truly cared about.

My mother-in-law, Emerald Jones, had always loved to exaggerate. My wife’s wedding gift for me was worth 8,800 dollars, but my mother-in-law told everyone it was worth 880,000 dollars. We only looked at cars at a luxurious car dealership. But she went around saying she spent over 200,000 dollars to buy me one. I figured that I was going to spend my life with my wife, Emilia, so I put up with her. On the eve of our wedding, I had a small argument with my wife. She blurted out, “My family has to pay over a million dollars for me to marry you. What more do you want? “My wedding gift alone is 880,000 dollars. Anyone who doesn’t know better will think you’re living off a woman!” I was utterly disappointed. She was not directly involved in the discussion on the wedding gift. However, it was something both families had agreed on together. My wife actually believed her mother’s ridiculous remarks and assumed I had received an outrageously expensive wedding gift. After my mother-in-law transferred 1,000 dollars to me for the wedding banquet, she told everyone she had given me 100,000 dollars instead. So, I swapped the luxury wedding feast for instant noodles on the day of the banquet. In addition, I showed a looped display of her stingy transfer of money to my bank account for everyone to see.

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

“Ti voglio da impazzire… Qui… Ora…” (Ita. - I want you like crazy… Here… Now) An affair to remember… for all eternity! My name is Norah Wilde, I am American and I work for the Gritti family, a very important Italian name in the financial world. They've brought me to Italy from New York to ‘manage’ their important international clients. But soon after my arrival, I got framed, and my name and persona were destroyed in the process. No one believes I’m innocent… No one wants to hear me out… Except for my boss, the hot, mysterious, and untameable Leone Gritti! My name is Leone Gritti. I am Italian and I’m the VP of the most important bank in Italy. Dark forces are trying to destroy the perfect image of my honest family. Our enemies are trying to sink our empire. I will do whatever it takes to protect the Gritti name. I will sacrifice whatever to keep my family safe! But the woman who’s accused of being a spy is… innocent. I can tell just by looking into her scared, stunning dark eyes. Norah and Leone have a common goal: clearing their names. And the only way to do it is for Norah to become Leone’s mistress. Norah is scared but intrigued by his proposal and for Leone, no sacrifice is too great to protect what belongs to him: the Gritti empire and the beautiful Norah!

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent me, heartbreak on a platter of gold. How thoughtful. Melody Hart once believed December carried its own charm, everything feels beautiful and magical, and she would be having a Christmas wedding, something she’d dreamed of since childhood. But magic turned to ash the moment she walked in on the man she loved, unwrapping someone else like a gift. Determined to start over, she runs to New York City with nothing but a bruised heart and an almost empty bank account . She isn’t searching for miracles anymore. She just wants a job, a bed that’s not a borrowed couch, and one peaceful night where she doesn’t cry herself to sleep. Just like she had her problems, Logan Russo had his. He needs a woman for Christmas, someone who would be able to act in front of his whole family, just to get them off his neck. Melody needs two hundred thousand dollars. Neither of them needs love. The universe brought them together, two desperate strangers who needed each other. What started off as a confrontation at the airport, soon blossomed into something beautiful. She got her Christmas miracle after all. All that was short-lived because the universe had other plans. But this time, how much can she take, how willing is she to protect what she's built? Only time will tell.

For twelve years, Sophia Banner has worked tirelessly to keep her family's farm from foreclosure. Every payment is a small victory, until her sister, Daphne drains the money for a modeling opportunity that turns out to be a scam. Daphne isn't sorry. The bank doesn't care. And Sophia is out of time. Her solution arrives in tailored suits and effortless charm. Andrew Ashford—her witty, rich-as-hell employer, the man she delivers groceries to weekly. And… the man her sister, Daphne has been infatuated with for years. He's also the man whose eight-year-old nephew she tutors. When a medical diagnosis rattles Andrew's carefully managed life and sets his volatile family on edge, he decides appearances need fixing. What he needs is a fiancée. What he offers is one million dollars for one year. The money would save Sophia's farm outright. And the image of a diamond on her finger, of Daphne forced to watch—sharpens the temptation to a dangerous edge. Sophia agrees. She steps into Andrew's world of obscene wealth, jealous socialites, and an overbearing chaotic family that treats appearances like currency. Fake kisses are expected. Convincing smiles are mandatory. The problem is, Andrew plays his role too well—and the reasons behind this engagement begin to feel far from innocent. Because Andrew Ashford didn't choose Sophia at random. One year. One million dollars. And a lie that's starting to feel dangerously real.

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."