Hidden Millionaire Never Forgive You Novels & Stories

I grinned, leaned forward, and whispered it aloud, my voice slinking around the numbers like silk. “Four hundred million dollars.” The sound of it made me giggle, an almost giddy sound bubbling out of me. I swayed in my seat, tipsy not from the wine but from the intoxicating thought of my extra wealth. Four hundred million. Mine. Every penny of it ripped from under Marcelo Bernardo’s nose. Marcelo. The great, merciless mafia lord. So feared. So respected. And yet, his bride-to-be had stripped him bare without him even realizing it. The irony was delicious.

The cold and authoritative voice were enough to sent shivers to Nathan's spine. It's true, my friend is richer than him! no, he's the richest of all! The call was disconnected and Marcus glanced at him apologetic, "I'm sorry Nathan, I didn't win the lottery, I am Marcus Eastwood, the hidden rich scion whom your girlfriend was desperately searching for." Nathan was feeling overwhelmed, "N-no, don't apologize, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't come to my senses." The two grabbed a drink and cheered.

He cannot believe up until now that he was able to easily make his father hand over to him almost all his wealth, without him even demanding for it. His plan of revenge against his father has been overwhelmed now with pity and gratitude. He wanted to think that his father had never forgotten him after all; that he did everything to become wealthy so that in the end he can give something back to him or even more than what he really needed. These were his thoughts but in the deepest corner of his mind, something is telling him that his father still owes him a lot. He was never a father to him from his younger years until he became a lawyer. He neglected him while showering his woman and her ch

But it gave my hands something to do while my brain worked through what had just happened. For some weird reasons, this looked like Ivanna’s handiwork. And the worst part of it was she wasn’t wrong. It means the worst is yet to happen. Now the whole world would say I used a child to get a job I wasn’t qualified for. This is serious. I can imagine the headlines already. *The university dropout billionaire’s baby mama.* *University dropout lured billionaire with a baby to get a job at his vast company.* A lot of those kind of words are probably being typed into the computer systems at this very minute.

“Just get me the money and you can do whatever you like. I don't care if you get married to someone else. All I want is the money, otherwise, you, my darling, aren't going anywhere. We’re hooked together like the hip and bone and the only thing that can separate us, is that million. The sooner you get it, the better. And don't forget that I know a lot of your secrets, love. One mishap and I'll be leaking them to the world, and they will pay me for it. One million is just icing on the cake, if you care about your reputation.” "Fine, if that’s your wish, you ungrateful bastard,” Scarlet said before adding, "I’ll wire you the money tomorrow, and let me not see your face ever again.”

I thought of a man who could spend forty-seven billion dollars without noticing and probably considered my mother's entire medical debt less than pocket change. "A secret admirer," I repeated flatly. "That's what he said." Margaret smiled, clearly charmed by the romance of it all. "You must have someone very special in your life, Ella." I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. Because the someone special in my life was a stranger. A billionaire who'd watched me humiliate myself for exactly thirty seconds and somehow decided I was worth noticing. Worth tracking down. Worth spending money on—money I could never repay, money I didn't want, money that felt less like a gift and more like a trap.

“Who says you don't deserve a better life like everyone else?” His words struck something deep inside me, and without meaning to, I sank back into the seat, folding my hands nervously between my thighs. I sat stiffly beside him, fully aware of his intense gaze… until my phone buzzed in my bag, startling us both. I picked it out with shaky hands and my heart almost gave out when Don Valentino's name flashed across the screen. He was a ruthless mafia billionaire who had loaned my father a huge sum before his death. There was no doubt in my mind why he was calling. He wanted his money.

Who never called, never wrote, never explained. That boy is a billionaire now. The papers call him Richie Moore. The photos show him in expensive suits at expensive parties with expensive women on his arm. He owns my mother's debt. Which means he owns me.

My name was engraved in silver foil: KRYSTAL MCLAREN Tier A Ultra Black Client • Global Vault Network I took it like I was being knighted. Except instead of royalty, I was apparently the owner of ten million dollars in a world where bread probably cost less than air. I was confused. Deeply, fundamentally confused. Yes, I won that ten million dollar lottery. I knew that. But now? The way the manager said things, the way the system behaved—the way he treated ten bucks like I could buy half of Manhattan?

Joyce's eyes reddened and she felt like crying. "I might lose control." Fernando finally couldn't hold back and said angrily, "Return the hundred million zero-interest loan you got using my gold card, and I'll leave. You don't need to force me!" Suddenly, the whole place fell silent. All eyes were on Fernando. This useless person... has a gold card? And even helped the Nagel Group borrow a hundred million with zero interest? If that's the case, then he's not useless!