Money Magnet Novelas e Histórias

“That can’t be possible.” Norelle simply smiled at her. “But it is. There’s a reason it’s only used for very specific situations, and almost never if the subject refuses. Your memories are part of your spirit, your energy. You must allow them to witness them. To force your energy into an opposing mind has too many risks and can be considered an act of dark magic.” “Yes, but should I refuse, it gives them reason to believe I’m guilty of far worse and imprison me indefinitely on grounds of suspected treason.” responded Astasha.

“I didn’t realize it was doing so well. Maybe we can add to it once I get my inheritance. I’ve been researching a new breed of horseflesh…” “It’s holding its own and we can do whatever you want with it, but I was referring to that money I was trying to tell you about,” he said as he pulled her close. Her soft hair caressed his solid chest as she snuggled close. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I’m worth three-million dollars, baby.”

Afraid that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be the same again. But then he looked at Aria. She stood before him, steady, unshaken. There was a quiet strength in her now, something deeper than before. Her presence alone was grounding. “Alright,” Aria said, drawing a slow breath. “First, I need you to close your eyes.” Magnus frowned but obeyed. “Feel the magic inside you,” she continued. “Don’t fight it. Just listen.” He tried. At first, all he could sense was chaos—wild energy rushing through his veins, sharp, erratic, unpredictable. It was like a storm he couldn’t contain.

“Yes, I can see that. Is this all of you?” “Yes, your grace.” “Well, lady and gentlemen, you’re just in luck because I have a proposition for you. I have enough magic to completely clear the mountains. I just want one simple thing in return; I want you to sell all your Mythril ores only to me.” The men looked at each other, disbelief in their eyes. “If you don’t think my magic is powerful enough, you can ask Chief Grecia here. I am not saying you should sell your ores at a low price. I will buy all your low-quality ores for 10 gold each.”

Money moved before people even realized it was gone. That was Nyxara’s first memory after death—how currency slipped between hands like smoke, indifferent, untethered to conscience or sleep. Money never waited. It didn’t need to. It belonged to whoever could seize it, shape it, and unleash it. Right now, it answered to her. Loyal as a wolf at her heel, and just as hungry.

“That’s different!” “How is it different? You can abandon your old mate for fresh blood, but I can’t leave a toxic environment for a better opportunity?” Milton was speechless. “Besides,” I added, “the offer from the Silver Moon Clan shows me far more respect than I ever received here.” “How much?” Elder Amelia asked. “A salary of one million euros a year, plus a share of research profits,” I said. “And my own private magic lab, with complete autonomy.” They were all stunned.

Maggie's eyes filled with tears again, and she reached over to squeeze Raina's hand tightly. Bryan cleared his throat, clearly moved, but he pressed on anyway. "That still doesn't explain everything. You sent another fifty million just a few minutes ago. But Raina, the first fifty million you gave us, plus what Don Maxton gave me too, we still haven't even used it all. Vennis is already done with treatment…Why send more?" Raina's smile returned, calm and easy. "I heard from someone that Maggie wants to open a restaurant. So I decided to invest in it, that's all. It isn't free money, Bryan. Think of it as a business deal between friends."

He wanted his cousin. He slammed his palm onto Daryl’s chest, forcing his magic not into the Prisoner but into the thread of his bloodline. A desperate gamble. If their blood was truly rare enough to chain monsters, then maybe — just maybe — it could resist them too. For an instant, the silver dimmed. Daryl’s own voice broke through: “Killian— don’t— let go—” And then the Prisoner roared, using his body like a weapon, flinging Killian backward into the crypt wall hard enough to crack stone.

"But me? I can help. If you need fast money, I've got connections." Cyrus gave him a cautious look. "You? Are you sure? I need at least 1,000,000 dollars." The punk's eyes lit up. 'Big fish.' He whipped out a business card. "Our company specializes in rescuing people from desperate situations. If you need money, you came to the right place." The card read: [Duomore Finance. Mason Hackett, Sales Manager.] Cyrus' face brightened with feigned excitement. "You can really lend me money? I need a million. Help me through this, and I swear I'll pay it back within three months."

“Yes. But you would be attending with me. As my partner.” Before I even say that’s not a good idea, he beats me to it. “The auction is being hosted by the Magnus Group. The money they would gather from it would be used to make more hospitals and schools around the world. You surely don’t want to miss something like that, do you?” He sure knows how to guilt-trip someone. Forget it. I was hoping to find a way to donate some of the gift money I got from my brothers and other Gordons. The money sitting in my account is purely insane; just looking at it makes me dizzy. I