Millionaire Next Door Thomas Stanley Novels & Stories

“By the way,” “What?” “Do you happen to know Matthew Zarsuelo?” He froze mid-step, eyes widening. “Matthew Zarsuelo? Don’t tell me, he’s the guy we talked about last night?” I nodded. “Yes. The one who owns a company.” “Shit, you really dug your own grave.” he muttered. “Is he one of the evil rich?” My stomach tightened. Is that why he wants me to work for him? Revenge? “He’s not that bad,” Lyndon said. “But he’s one of the youngest multi-billionaires in the country. He owns Grand Finance.”

Strong enemies. I sighed, and walked back to my seat. *** The wide, happy, and welcoming smile beamed on my lips, only because I was going to see my cupcake. We hadn't seen each other yesterday, which was the reason I decided to pay him a visit. Of course, as a billionaire, his house was, so, so, enormous. Bigger than mine, I thought. Well, I wouldn't say it was finer than mine, since I had a better knowledge in interior designs.

[This is just a preview of the book, the rest of the history its not in this platform] I am aware that many would die to be in my position, in Vanessa Collins' position: married to the great millionaire Bill Allen, living surrounded by luxury and being a partner in a multi-million dollar company, but still, there is an emptiness in me that nothing can fill. Not even the greatest luxuries in the world can fill what I have lost and will never get back. I released an intense sigh as I watched my husband come downstairs for breakfast.

Something was going on, and if Damian wasn’t going to trust me, I’d find the answers myself. --- Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I crept downstairs. The mansion was a labyrinth of opulent hallways and grand rooms, but I knew my destination: Damian’s private study. The door was unlocked—a rare oversight for someone as meticulous as Damian. My heart raced as I stepped inside, the scent of leather and wood polish enveloping me. The room was dimly lit by a single desk lamp, casting long shadows across the shelves lined with books and framed accolades.

"Mr. Adams, this is not a place for you to behave atrociously. My advice for you is to return home." Mr. Adams was clearly fuming, but he had abandoned his business, worth tens of thousands, to come here. Therefore, he just couldn't return home empty handed. Mr. Adams left temporarily to return home. Coincidentally, he had recently bought a house from the Stephenson's Family's copycat real estate area. He had just shifted into the house for a few days, and he was neighbors with the Stephenson's.

How dare he. Don't get me wrong when I said he was a millionaire. Yes, he was a millionaire, but I wasn't a gold digger dating him for his money, it was the other way round. He was a millionaire, heir to a company, but, I was Fiona Katherine Winchester, billionaire and CEO of Winchester Group of Industries, the third most successful company on the entire continent, and, his company worked for mine. He was dating me for my money and I was dating him for my peace of mind.

He said with a smirk. When I didn't say anything, he smiled shaking his head. "To start with Richard Stanford is a billionaire businessman dealing in shipping and cargo services. S&S that is Stanford and Stanford has the capability of reaching the most remote place on earth. And in the human world, he is called the most eligible Bachelor." He was typing something on his iPad while giving me information. "Check this out" he said passing me the iPad. It was a magazine article that was dated yesterday. His photograph was on the front as he was holding a beautiful lady in his arms, both looking at each other with love.

he asked. Eva stood still, staring at her Italian in front of him. "Yes, I am Evangelina Anderson and I am the millionaire's ugly secretary." The end.

“Wait, how do you know all this?” “I received a letter yesterday.” He confessed, taking out a piece of paper and handing it to me. “The person offered a million dollars and a partnership with our company only if you agree to be a stand-in bride for the tycoon.” “So, I was technically chosen by this anonymous person?” I asked and he nodded. “You don't even know who it is. Why should you believe him?” “He's not exactly anonymous, Aria. He's the personal secretary to Romanov. His head would be on a plate if Romanov found out that his bride was missing.” He explained, and I sighed, slumping into the chair as all this information made my head spin.

Who was this man? But it wasn’t the statement that chilled her—it was Mr. Edwards’ reaction. His face drained of color, fear replacing his anger. He recognized the man. Theodore Thatcher. The richest man in the country. A billionaire whose name struck fear into the hearts of businessmen and criminals alike. And now, he was claiming Nadia as his wife. Theodore took a step forward, his voice cold. “Leave. Now.” Mr. Edwards stumbled back, terror gripping him. He turned and fled without another word, vanishing into the night.