Hidden Millionaire Never Forgive You Novels & Stories

"You're still far from the mark. Aim higher!" My mouth was twitching. He's sounding ridiculous as the minutes pass by. "I'm sure it's $1 Million!" I said, pranking him. There is no way he will put $1 million on the card and give it to me just like that. Magnus clapped his hands. "Bravo! You finally guessed it correctly. Lauren, dear, congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a card loaded with a $1 million cash balance. You are officially an instant millionaire now!" He chuckled merrily.

I unbuttoned my white dress shirt slowly and one by one as I thought about how my patience is slowly drifting away from me. I reached for my phone and typed my last straw. If this is not gonna work, I’ll dig my own grave. To Angel: The million is yours now. Tomorrow night, at XXX. Come or else you’ll vanish with those grands. Is she that type of girl now? She texted that 500 grand will do her no good, does her non-existent reply mean she's still not happy with million? Fvck, yes. I know she doesn't cost anything and she's way more than dimes and gold, she's not happy with it? Then damn! I'll give her the whole world.

“We're not friends. But if you insist on asking as a friend, then here's your answer; NO.” “Why do you say no?” Is he seriously asking me that? “Because, you.are.not.a.nice.person!” “You owe me forty million,” there was a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. “If you go with me, I'll forfeit five million.” I knew it! I had no choice in this…. Miguel always has to get what he wants. “Ten million…” “Ten million….deal.” Ten million. That was enough to swallow my pride for one evening, right?

When I returned with my apron, he was still there, giving me those eyes that sparked my curiosity instantly. “My answer is no.” I said firmly and attended to the bald man on the other side of the counter, “what drink, sir?” “Ugh. He’s a billionaire, Oli. The richest client you’ll ever have, I swear!” “No.” I said firmly, “I quit, Mark. I can’t do this shit anymore. I’m fed up of it, okay? If he’s so rich, why not take him on yourself?”

“Straight to the point, as always. You did me dirty when you reported me to the police. I lost all my funds, you know, love. Zara swallowed. “What do you want? She asked again, her voice trembling. “I need money. Five hundred thousand. By tomorrow.” Her heart stopped. “What?” “You heard me. Half a million. You owe me, Zara. Don’t make me remind you what you used to do for me.” His tone sharpened, a blade against her throat even over the phone. "I'm sure you don't want the cops to know what you did. Or that guard of yours." He sneered at the last part. Her throat went dry. “I—I don’t have that kind of money.”

She was worried and requested that I tighten the security in my house and be very careful. "I've prepared some delicious food, mother. Should I bring it for you to eat?" I asked. She laughed and asked me to bring the food. I went to the kitchen and brought the food. She ate, and we began another discussion. "I met this beautiful girl while I was relaxing at Lagos Beach. Her beauty and physique were unmatched. Mother, I think I love this girl," I opened up to my mother, and she laughed. "Are you sure you're not just carried away by obsession? Why would you see a woman for the first time and start loving her? That's strange!" My mother understood the kind of person I was. I was the kind of bil

"Or I would take all your businesses, houses, and cars if you disobeyed." I threw my phone through the wall after reading her intimidation towards me. She's a crazy knucklehead mother! I leaned back in my chair and stared at the broken glass of the phone scattered on the floor, realizing something was important in there. "Damn! The picture." I immediately stood up, picked it up, and tried to open it. But it's too late; it's broken. I sat down and sighed. This isn't what I expected to happen. Now, Brandon Rhey, the youngest billionaire of the Wilsome family, has been obligated to comply with the legacy of the family by marrying a woman who is as wealthy as we are.

His father wasn’t just cutting him off; he was amputating him from the global financial system. The first hit came from the shadows. The next, a quiet betrayal. A text message from a man who had sworn loyalty a decade ago: Can’t help. He’s made it clear. The message was gone a minute later, but the message was received. The empire had a new king, and every vassal was bending the knee. Dominic wasn’t just an heir disowned; he was a traitor to be erased. He was a ghost, a nobody. A man with nothing but the clothes on his back and the pistol tucked into his jeans.

Despite being a man with his lifestyle, he was not insensitive, the very idea of having killed someone and walked away without doing anything would not let him live in peace. Mason Clark, a young millionaire of twenty-five, son of one of the best families in the city, a man not so tall, but with an enviable body, since he was only dedicated to taking care of him, his presence was the most important thing, he had straight blonde hair, with honey-colored yellow eyes and snowy skin. Known in his social circle for the way he squandered his money, his generosity with his friends and especially the endless number of women who had passed through his room, he was the most sought-after bachelor in to

He ordered a bottle of whiskey, and as he began to drink, he remembered Eva. People looked at him sadly; the news had spread quickly throughout Florida. The most quoted millionaire in the country had been left at the altar by the woman who had been his secretary a few years ago and with whom he had had three children, the reason being that I couldn't stand being with a man who was marked by life. "The doctor told you they were going to operate on me, I don't understand why you left me," he snorted every time he drank from his bottle. ... It was the early hours of the morning, the guests had begun to leave, and Demetrio was still drinking, trying to forget the pain, when he felt hands on his