Novel About Money Novels & Stories

Novi grumbled. "For you I'm free because you're my best friend." Beri looked at Mr. Caucasian beside Novi. "But your husband is very rich and he doesn't mind either. So it's okay to charge them." Give a sly smile to Mr. Caucasian. "Ish, you are a rich man! Why are you still asking for money." Novi protest. "It was my parents who were rich, not me." Give a casual laugh. "How much do you want?" asked Diki quickly.

“You would flounder as a poor man. The rich stay rich, and the poor can work hard to get rich. That’s the way I see it.” I nodded my head, but deep down, I didn’t feel that way at all. Money wasn’t the most important thing in life. In my opinion, it had a way of bringing out the ugliness inside people. I enjoyed having money and appreciated the peace of mind a healthy bank account provided, but it wasn’t everything. It was hard to find genuine people when their vision was clouded by money. Even Zach was driven by money. He certainly didn’t befriend those that were flat broke, and he would never date a woman that wouldn’t fit into his lifestyle.

It had been a goal of hers since she published her first book and now she had reached it… although she thought she would’ve felt… different. She was happy, of that there was no doubt, and relieved and a little bit more confident, but there was still a part of her that held back, almost like it was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The part of her that had kept her from ending up homeless and destitute told her that a million dollars meant nothing in today’s economy and if she wasn’t careful, she could lose it all tomorrow. It whispered to her that she couldn’t actually count on the advance cheque Juliet had just handed her because if the book was a flop, she would need to pay all that mone

He would be keeping it all for himself, like a dragon would a horde of gold in the fantasy novels. "Oh I can tell you one thing that apparently matters more than money." One of the girl's accompanying Carlos called out from their huddle of women, cutting into their conversation. "Please enlighten." Carlos said raising his hand questioningly. "Apparently not a million dollar dick, but a billion dollar dick." ... "Huh?"

A ring of moisture clung to the table, catching the light like a stain that refused to fade. “Survival,” Jeremiah had said. That word lingered, biting into his thoughts. He sank slowly into the chair, elbows on his knees, and pressed his fingers to his temples. What are you planning this time, Jeremiah? Every time his cousin appeared, destruction followed. Not in obvious ways . Jeremiah was far too clever for that but in whispers, in scandals that vanished before they made headlines, in fortunes that shifted hands overnight. He always left with his name untarnished and someone else buried beneath the debris.

His eyes scanned me with a sense of compromise. "What do you want?” He snapped. I shot a glance at Grey, he got the message. He handed a paper to him- a check. He stretched his hand sluggishly, not eager to collect it. But immediately his hand rested on it, his eyes scanned it in disbelief. His face lit in excitement. I could imagine the excitement in his heart as his fingers traced the edges of the slip. “$3 million? Isabella this is too much.” I felt a quick wave of relief washed over me. I didn't expect his expression to soften so fast. Money was indeed a game changer.

I mutter bitterly. The root of all evilness is money. People will kill, lie, and steal for it. They believe that money can buy them happiness but, in reality, it merely buys them additional problems; turmoil. I should know since I've murdered a man who was one hundred dollars short on his payment. He believed he could deceive me and pull the wool over my eyes. But if you deal with a substantial amount of money on a daily, you can visually eyeball a briefcase loaded with stacks of hundred-dollar notes and determine if you are short-changed.

Her only family. When their parents died, he had taken over the family fintech company as the first child and was once considered a shrewd and ambitious businessman, but when he'd lost his wife and daughter to an auto crash, he lost himself. Then came the drinking, the incessant partying until he ran the company into bankruptcy. It saddened her to think what he'd become. Elizabeth didn't know how much he owed. She'd rather not know. All she knew was the deal she'd struck with those two terrifying men this morning. She had a month to come up with two hundred thousand dollars, during which they would leave him alone.

The old feud lingered, unseen but unforgotten. Money was never truly an issue. Over the centuries, I had gathered wealth beyond any human measure, carefully moving it between banks as Britain's currencies shifted, exchanging, concealing, and multiplying it with a patience only immortality could afford. Gold, coins, assets—hidden in safes across the country, untouched and untouchable. If I chose to, I could vanish anywhere and live without ever worrying about the next meal, the next roof, the next danger. Far from the struggles of mortals, my fortune was mine alone, a silent testament to the life I had meticulously built and the independence I refused to surrender.

My mind starts to race. Three million naira doesn’t just fall into your account by mistake. Not in this economy. Not in this lifetime. People work themselves to the bone for months, some even for years and never see that kind of money sitting casually in their balance. My first stupid thought is that maybe the bank glitched. Maybe some technical error threw money into the wrong account. It happens in movies and novels, right? But I shake that off for just a second. My second thought goes to Nathaniel.