Millionaire Next Door Thomas Stanley Novels & Stories

Was I that obvious? “Fucking hell,” I mumbled as the huge gate opened and the extensive and huge house greeted my eyes. It’s not just a house, it’s a mansion! What do I even expect? Sean Cohen is a billionaire. He could buy everything. There was a long hallway and beside it were the flowers planted. It seems like those flowers and plants are being taken care of very well. I was amazed the whole time. It is so much bigger than Charlotte's house.

At his side was a girl in a plaid skirt, a backpack bouncing on her shoulder, chattering away as though she didn’t notice the chill that clung to the man walking beside her. My eyes narrowed. Recognition slammed into me. The rude stranger from yesterday. The man who sent my bag flying without so much as a sorry. Mr. Evans. Of course. Because my life wasn’t already tragic enough — the universe just had to make the brooding billionaire my neighbor. I muttered under my breath, “Unbelievable.” His head turned, sharp and precise, and our eyes locked. For a moment, something flickered there. Guilt, maybe. Or annoyance. He opened his mouth, voice lower than I expected. “About yesterday—”

he glanced toward the house, toward the lit windows where his father and Stefena were still somewhere inside, “—I think I need a minute before I’m useful to anyone.” I nodded. That made sense. He’d had more dropped on him today than most people carried in a lifetime. “Stay close to the house,” I told him. “If anything changes, call me.” He nodded. Kate was already moving toward the car. The drive to the shipping yards took eighteen minutes. Kate sat beside me with her phone in her lap, refreshing the news feed every few minutes, watching the story metastasize in real time. The baby switch confirmation had picked up four more outlets. Martha Roberts’ name was trending. Stefena’s name was tren

“Classic Thomas.” We moved to the dining room. Long table, mismatched chairs, paper plates, because Vivian finally stopped pretending everything needed to be porcelain. Marcus sat at one end with Priya, debating some app feature. Julian stood by the window talking to David, who’d shown up in weekend jeans and looked almost human. Nadia pulled me aside near the buffet. “How bad is it at the shelter?” she asked low. “Bad enough I’m considering a side hustle selling plasma.” She didn’t laugh. “How much short?”

“Three? You want to make him offer us three billion dollars?” Magda noticed even Darya thought Dimi might be a bit over the top and she watched her hands shaking. Yup. Dimi was pissed on her behalf. It suddenly felt good to have the backing of the daughter of the most ruthless mafia kingpin in the country. “A billion each? Let’s find out if when a billionaire gets their first billion how long it takes for the devil to show up.” On the beach the girls had held an entire discussion whether earning a billion got you a deal with the devil and Magda found herself wondering if Dimi might have already made it. Her face was far more wicked than she’d ever seen it.

His resilience had always inspired me. “Sir?” Kace called again. “Your friend Noah wants to see you,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Send him in,” I said, my mood lifting slightly. Noah walked in, beaming. “Is that my bro—the next multi-billionaire every girl in town is dying for?” I laughed. “Yeah, they better back off. This is just the beginning.” Kace reappeared. “Sir, the head of manufacturing would like a word.” “Let him in,” I said, still talking to Noah.

We sat in the living room, Zara talking nonstop about the States—her job, her apartment, how lonely it got sometimes. “I missed home,” she admitted softly. “And I missed you.” I reached for her hand. “I missed you too.” She looked at Elijah again. “So… how did you two meet?” He glanced at me. “Next-door neighbors.” Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Life is strange.” She smiled. “I like this version of your life.” Later, Zara pulled me aside while Elijah stepped out to take a call. “You’re happy,” she said quietly.

“Did you see anything in the room at least, that could help you Identify him? I hesitated, the watch flashing in my mind. “I know he's rich, like filthy rich. He had a Patek Philippe Grandmaster chime on the nightstand.” Laura blinked, “I've heard that name before,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Isn't that Scott's dream watch?” She asked. I nodded, my chest tightening. “ It is.” “Oh Linda, I'm so sorry for bringing him up.” She apologized. “It's fine,” I said softly.

It wasn't just a feeling though, it was a fact. I earnestly looked forward to our next meeting, but it never came, or at least not as I had expected. However, two weeks after our first encounter, Ms. Ellen appeared at my parents doorstep with a jar of cookies, and a wide smile, introducing herself as our next door neighbour. And then I knew the world was playing tricks on me.

"Okay, enough questions. It’s time for bed. You have school tomorrow." Norman looked up, a small, fragile smile finally breaking through. "Okay. Goodnight, Nathan." "Goodnight, buddy." Nathan watched until Norman entered his room and the lock clicked into place. The moment the door was shut, the warmth vanished from Nathan’s eyes. His gaze turned toward Stanley’s door, dark and murderous. He wasn't just doing this for the money anymore. He had to get Ethan out of the way and secure the estate so he could purge this house of Stanley’s filth.