Millionaire Shortcut Novels & Stories

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 said while he let go of the ribbon holding the brown paper that was used to cover the cheque face reveling Thirty million dollars boldly written with his signature on it also. If this is a dream, I don't want to ever wake . I thought pinching myself to be sure of what I saw. I felt the pain making me realize this is not a dream but my reality, am a millionaire already. From nothing to a millionaire, God am grateful. I thought shaking his hand ad the photographer did his job including Maxwell featuring. "That's not all Mrs stone, am sure you are happy and excited but I still have more coming." He said while one of his bodyguard brought out three different award pushing them where the light

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.

Fortunately, I arrive unharmed, step in, put the car in reverse and skim away from the spot. I drive right to my penthouse. Arriving at the apartment complex, I park my car in the underground and take the elevator to my quarters. When I'm in, I rush to the bedroom to undress. There I take an extended hot bath, put on a robe and walk out to the living room. I catch a cold liqueur and decide to enjoy it on the patio. As I stare into the distance, I consider that now is the right time to contact Ruth. If her scholarship didn't work out, I could help. In the two years I have lived here, I have worked my way up. Right now, I have written two books about mastering the financial administration of m

Bernard suddenly felt like the male lead in Brewster's Millions, where he must spend 30 million USD in a limited amount of time or miss out on 300 million in inheritance. Right now, Bernard wasn't worried about losing—but losing not enough money or too slowly. Ideally, he'd like Charlie to ask him to spend all 50 billion USD at once, or it would make him anxious if it took too long. Seeing how anxious he was, Charlie said, "Patience. You have a chance to double your merit points in the US—seize it and spend 200 million, and you'd get 400 million in merit points."

Not having the financial freedom she was used to having was a bitter pill to swallow. A few days prior, Eleanor Francis—one of Samantha’s mahjong’s friends—shared a way to get rich quickly. It was through the Genesis Financial Corporation. It was a relatively new financial scheme that promised returns in a short timeframe. All they needed to do was invest ten thousand bucks into the company, and they could earn about five hundred bucks per week. Samantha was extremely interested. She sold the mansion for eighty million and invested it all in the scheme. She thought she could buy another mansion when the returns came in.

Another reminder of that emptiness. “Millionaires these days,” I grin, redirecting my mind. “So poor they can’t even afford the nice security system.” “Cutting corners is how millionaires become millionaires.” “Hey now,” I want to look at him, but I can’t peel my eyes from the screen, trying to read their lips. “Not all millionaires climb to the top on the backs of others.” “You and Az can hardly say you’re anything more than commonfolk,” that pulled a real laugh from me. “Your disposal money is filtered into anywhere but your pocket.”

I squint my eyes, “How big is a lot?” “Trripleee.” She sings and I jerk upright so hard my laptop nearly flies off the bed, “What?! Triple? My cut would be almost—” “Close to a million,” she finishes the sentence, twirling at the screen, “The year has just barely started and you are already on the path to becoming a millionaire. So darling, breathe. And for God’s sake, enjoy the vacation. I did not pay fifty thousand dollars on one of the most expensive hotels in the country for you to waste.”

But clearly, why would I pay attention to them when I had a big offer waiting out there for me? They were always a great inconvenience to my life, but well, was there anything better than being a billionaire? Of course not. Whenever the journalists felt the need to attack me with questions, my bouncers were always there to guard me out of their proximity. Soon, we reached my car. I hopped into the backseat, fastened my seat belt. Another good thing about being a billionaire was you never had to talk. Gesturing with the eyes, snapping the fingers, clearing the throat, would do the trick. And right now, a snap of my fingers got my driver to start the car.

Max asked me. “They will most probably ask for fifty, but we can settle the deal at forty,” I replied. “No wonder you became a millionaire in the span of three years. You’re smart,” Max complimented me, making me smile. “I have lived with billionaires my whole life. It would have been stupid of me not to notice their mindsets and learn from them,” I said with a small shrug. In my opinion, it took me a while to build my empire. I wish I had done it faster. Nevertheless, I was grateful for everything I had.