Invisible Rich Man Novels & Stories

The ink on her inheritance papers was barely dry, yet Isabella’s thoughts were already far from wealth. The lawyer’s words still echoed faintly in her ears, but she was no longer listening to numbers or percentages. Wealth had once been something distant, almost abstract, belonging to other people. Now it sat heavily in her hands, yet her mind wandered elsewhere, toward memories of cold nights, trembling hands, and a girl who had once felt invisible in the vast world.

Back Story. Richard Underhill was the new topic of conversation in New York. No one could escape the fact that the 25-year-old man was turning over a hundred million dollars in stockpiles. The young risk capitalist had an extremely successful year, and he had doubled his fortune within six months. Richard was the handsome, mysterious underdog with black hair and gray eyes that came from nothing and made a name for himself. He's tall, strong, and sharp, and many women had their eyes fixed upon him.

Once I reached on the fifthteenth floor the elevator dinged and opened. I slumped on my black leather chair and tossed the magazine in the trash can beside. "Marcus Devon is recognized as one of the richest billionaires in NYC. I was the first one but I never cared. Reporters liked to do nothing but gossip. My monthly net income is enough to care for half of the world but I liked to keep things to my standards. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. "Come in." The knob slightly turned and a blonde walked in and closed the door behind her.

She has clearly fit into the French streetwear style. “So, who is the man, and how is he?” I slouched and slumped into my bed immediately I got into my room. “It’s Don Raymond. Don’t tell me mother forgot to put that in the invitation card.” “Isn’t he like that self absorbed, fancy billionaire with the tv station and the rugby club, and the many many real estate houses?” “And the construction company, and the wicked law firm-” Nina squealed, in addition. “Okay guys, I get it. He is very rich. But very cold towards me,” I groaned.

I point at her, "She can give you anything you need." "You want MY poor sister to give me compensation for what you did to me? How fucking cheap," he shakes his head, "You are a cheap man. That's extremely disappointing, but I've heard before how rich people are the cheapest motherfuckers ever." "Yeah, they are," someone else murmurs. "Ivy is not poor, she has access to my money," I let him know, but he's still shaking his head in disapproval, "Man, even if I write you a check, it's going to come from the same fucking account! It's the same shit!"

, he replies and a big smile casts on his face again. "Agreed. She is really a nice girl. I hope she becomes as great as her father", he says and they both sharing a smile walks out. Getting inside the car and bidding bye to Mr. Roger the car moves ahead toward their company. Emma, still smiling when asks George, "Why did everything in his house speak about money?", she asks naively. "Because he is a filthy rich man. He runs the biggest casino in the world. And also has some illegal businesses like smuggling such expensive things. That's why there is a building when you enter and then a secret palace of his", he informs and Emma's face left all the colours.

he said with a little smile. She lightly scoffed. “Thanks, but I’m thirty-six. I’m not an old geezer, but most men want the new, hottest . . . and youngest thing. Then again, it doesn’t really matter. I’m done. I don’t want another guy with money because — well, look at where I’m at now; rich guys are always looking to upgrade. And I don’t want a young man who’s a bum who expects me to pay for everything.” “I seriously doubt that you would entertain a bum,” he said with a small smile. “And not all rich guys are pigs.”

"You don't need to threatened Mrs. Woods, something stupid offer like that is ridiculous. She doesn't need your pitiful investment!" Under the surprise gazed of everyone except for Jate who was lazily laying on the sofa winking on his wifey. A group of old rich mens and womens trudged into the office. The man who had spoken earlier was the billionaire, and the richest man in the city Mr. Zayn Julhs 'a friend of Jate'. Following behind him were several middle aged men and women, each of them dressed smartly in an expensive clothing. There was no doubt that they were old millionaires and big shots in the city. Nobody can provoke them.

The whole bedroom was a testament to obscene wealth. The black interior design screamed old money—timeless yet imposing. The vases, the art on the walls, even the damn floor—all of it reeked of expensive taste. It wasn’t just rich; it was the kind of wealth that could buy countries, and I was beginning to realize that Vincenzo wasn’t just well-off. He was powerful. I was curious, no, desperate to know just how rich this man actually was. I scanned the room for my phone. After a moment of searching, I spotted it on the nightstand.

My heart was racing in its cage, I was on a death list, over nothing. I had just learnt a rich man’s secret. "Come on, we need to get out of..." he couldn't finish talking. He was interrupted by the sudden trembling of his hands. "What's wrong?!" I panicked, listening to his breathing quicken.