Hidden Tycoon Novels & Stories

His paintings were displayed in prestigious galleries, and his name was known among wealthy collectors and art enthusiasts. That was the identity he allowed the world to see. Behind that public image, Ethan secretly ran AUX Group, an influential international investment and private equity firm with interests in technology, luxury brands, and strategic acquisitions. He had built the company away from the Gray family's influence and kept his identity as its controlling owner concealed behind layers of corporate structures.

So I pulled out my phone, took a picture of it and used the internet lens. The results made me gasps. It belonged to a big corporation and only one man in that corporation wore it. He was even famous for it. His executives had grey wolfs while he had black. He is a man who never should’ve shown up at a crime scene. " OMG! Lucien Kael." I gasped. He is a Tech tycoon, into global real estate, made it to Top 10 Porbes list, had politicians under his control. He was basically untouchable and adored by everyone. Especially because of his extreme handsome and attractive looks.

With a frown, he took it out of his pocket and stared at it. “Dad?” He brought the phone to his ear wondering why his dad who had barely left for an hour was calling him when he heard Trenor's voice. He hissed so loud that Trenor recoiled. “Wait wait, don't hang up, there's an emergency. The final stage of the three hundred million dollar High-rises project is in jeopardy right now,” as he heard that, he froze. It was a project he couldn't afford to lose, not when it cost him half the money to get that investment and there was still the number of shares that he had to give out before reclaiming.

“To Adrian.” Tyler nodded. “Exactly.” I leaned back slowly. “That’s how he built his empire.” “And that’s how we destroy it.” He turned the laptop toward me. Spreadsheets, transaction logs, shell companies layered on top of shell companies. “I’ve been tracking his money for months,” Tyler said. “I didn’t know it was him at first. I thought it was just another ghost investor bleeding us through back channels. Especially when you go to work and I stay back home and you think I do nothing. I thought he was like a scammer. But after the crash… I remembered things.”

“You sound like an old woman. Come on, Clara. We’ll just go for a bit—one drink, one dance. You might even find inspiration for your interview tomorrow.” I gave her a side-eye. “Inspiration? At a nightclub?” She grinned. “Inspiration or a rich man—same difference.” I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re ridiculous.” “I’m serious!” she said, pointing at me with her makeup brush. “This is New York—the city of miracles, money, and mistakes. You never know who you’ll meet.” “I already know who I’ll meet,” I said. “My future boss. Elias Thorne—billionaire CEO, known playboy, and rumor has it he fired his assistant because she brought him coffee that was ‘too sweet.’”

Ty asked out of the blue. “Of course who hasn’t ! That’s a luxury chain of hotels, restaurants, casinos, commercial hot spots and not to forget the main sponsor of Dad Valen and Dad Zarek’s favourite tournament- The Death Wheels !” I stated everything in one breath like a die hard fan. I am actually more than a die hard fan. I am like absolutely crazy about them. “But why do you ask ?” “Will you believe it if I say that I own the conglomerate ?” Ty asked with a serious face.

She threw a napkin at him, "5ft 2in is NOT that short." "No," he reflected, "it isn't, for a Hobbit." "But seriously," he resumed, "please hear me out, okay?" "Of course." "I was talking to one of my clients the other day, I obviously can't say who," he began. Janet nodded, Tyler worked for a large financial firm in their private wealth group, managing clients' investments. The people he dealt with were very high net worth and the only thing they guarded more jealously than their money was their privacy.

Instead, he stopped in a secluded corner and pulled out a thick stack of cash. My pupils constricted. Even accounting for inflation, that was easily a hundred thousand dollars. Over a decade ago. My wolf bared its teeth in my mind. Impossible. Tyler was just an ordinary worker at a crematorium, no inherited wealth, no underground dealings that we knew of. He peeled off part of the stack to pay, then retreated again, his shoulders hunched. His phone rang. The moment he answered, his posture changed completely. He bowed, nodding repeatedly, his face twisted into something servile and fearful.

I dragged my suitcase through the airport, New York's air hitting me, familiar yet foreign. A loud wolf whistle caught my attention. "Welcome back, New York's sexiest artist!" I spun around to see my best friend Clara Willow leaning against her flashy red convertible, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. Designer sunglasses covered half her face, but couldn't hide that million-dollar smile. "Clara!" I was surprised, practically sprinting toward her. "How do you know I'm returning today?" Clara threw her arms wide for a bear hug. "Please, you think I'd let my bestie take some sketchy cab home? Grandma Margaret spilled the beans."

My day was already off to a great start, and that message made it even better. I have to be honest: when I first met Corvin, I was intimidated. It’s hard not to be when you’re talking to the heir of a multi-billion dollar corporation. But as I’ve spent more time with him, I’ve realized that he is so much more than just a fancy title or a big bank account. He is incredibly attentive and generous. He is a true gentleman in every sense of the word, and he is brilliant. And, of course, it doesn't hurt that he is absolutely handsome. He really seems to have everything. I feel so lucky that I’ve managed to find such a good friend in him.