Money Tycoon Mga Nobela at Kwento

His heart melted. “My lord…” Dan took a step closer. “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly and Dante sighed, rubbing at the bream of his eyes. “I am Dante rumolue. The 3rdost richest business Tycoon in the world, and of course the first most richest and powerful mafia lord in the undercover world. “There is nothing more to do in this business. The dead ones are dead already. The living are at my mercy, I have secured so much wealth that is well enough to suffice for generations. And I have you all. My family…” he added the last part that got their heart melting.

I picked up the file from my desk and pass it over to him to read. "I want you to look into this project and let me know if you are interested in becoming an investor. This project can bring you and me both billions of dollars in profit. You get to make daddy dearest happy and I get to make billions and gain fame. It's a win-win for both of us." I suggest a billion-dollar deal to Antonio Since, you and Francesco fall into the league of royalty, not me."

It was usually the women chasing him, majority of the time for monetary benefits of dating him, but this young lady had not only rejected his affection but his money as well. It was a vulnerable moment of emotions for Mr. Blackwood but that soon came to an end as a text message from his bank came in, wishing him a happy birthday. He immediately remembered who he was, he was Maxwell Blackwood, CEO, multimillionaire, Business Tycoon and one of the City’s most eligible bachelors.

A small plan started to form in my mind but I needed to gather as much knowledge as I could. “Who is he, truly?” I turned to face my grinning father and for a moment he seemed to enjoy Declan’s misery so much that he forgot his hatred for me. “Robert’s bastard son. He’s made a name for himself in Italy, Spain, Paris and South America. They call him The Tycoon of Rome. He’s quite brilliant.”

"In exactly sixty seconds, the Vance Global servers will begin a self-destruct sequence. Every cent of your 'legacy' is being converted into an anonymous donation to the Northern Territory Refugee Fund. You aren't a billionaire anymore, Father. You’re just a man with a cane and a lot of very angry creditors." "You wouldn't!" he roared, lunging toward me. But he was too late. From the valley below, a series of distant, muffled explosions echoed—not of bombs, but of high-capacity data centers. The blue lights on the black town cars suddenly flickered and died. The satellite links on the security teams' phones went dark. "I'm the Hidden Tycoon, remember?" I said, backing toward the edge of the

“Do you mind if I say something?” “No.” Macy shook her head. “Go on, I don’t mind.” “If you have to take a loan, take it. Whatever you do, don’t contact Ms. Roberts again. She’s the owner of one of the largest real estate companies in the country, and her family is old money. They’re filthy rich, and I wouldn’t advise you to cross her.”

No, they wanted me because of my last name: Koch. Edmond Koch, my dad, was one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. Every company thought that hiring me would be some kind of trophy. But I refused to ride his coattails. If I was going to build a career, it was going to be because of me. Which is why I was here. At Bettencourt. The company every business student whispered about in nightmares. The reason was Cedric Bettencourt, the CEO. Rumor had it he was Lucifer reincarnated. He had made plenty of my classmates cry during interviews. And I had a feeling I was about to be next.

It took me a while to realize the meaning of those words, and connecting one point to another was slower than I had imagined. “It can’t be,” I covered my lips with my hands, “But you are a luxury escort; you were at the agency that day.” “It was a mistake.” His words made my stomach clench. “I am the billionaire Miguel Carrascal.” I was never a luxury escort.”

I can't imagine myself wasting time with anyone except if it's for the sake of money and victory. My name's Tyler Jackson but can be called as "Tyler" a son of a billionaire here in Canada.I am 38 years old while my father was already in his senior age.He has a stage 4 cancer and he already laid on bed for months while waiting for the day he will die.We found out about his illness late because he was too busy of his business. "I know I won't last long in this world son.I just want you to have your own child to inherit my company soon.You are not getting younger"he told me.

How embarrassing would it be if he had to reject my offer in front of my competitors? "Neo," I called, and cleared my throat. "Take care of them. I don't have enough time to waste." Saying that, I managed to walk in the midst of the journalists. With the help of Neo, Leo, and a few other men, Rachel and I were able to get into the company. And damn, when I took a step in, I felt my mouth dropping. Actually, not physically dropping. This. Was. Awesome. Good Lord, I had thought my company had the best structure in New York City. How the heck did they build a company as good as this? Was I sure the so-called chairman was a billionaire? It felt like a trillion had been spent on this building.