Novels About Money Novels & Stories

The man, a middle-aged businessman with a nervous demeanor, glanced around as if expecting someone to recognize him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, contacting me after all these years,” he said, his voice low. Emma smiled sweetly. “I have an offer you can’t refuse. Your story, your name in the press—how does that sound?” The man’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s in it for me?” Emma leaned closer, her tone silky. “Money. A lot of it. Plus the chance to bring Edward Vanderbilt to his knees. All you have to do is tell your side of the story.”

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.

“We’re saving money. We can’t afford to hire anyone yet, not until I get my inheritance” Jess sighs. “Yeah, yeah. We’re broke bakers trying to build a dream.” She wipes her forehead. “Speaking of money, are you sure you don’t want to marry Christian Hilton? That's the only way to get your inheritance Penny” I throw a crumpled napkin at her. “Absolutely not.” She smirks. “You’re seriously turning down a fortune because you don’t want to be some hot billionaire’s trophy wife?” I groan, throwing my head back. “Jess.”

Simple. The lid popped open. Inside sat neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Rubber-banded together. Julian lowered himself onto the couch, wincing, and stared at the money. "How much?" he asked. "Ten thousand dollars," I said. I picked up a stack. It felt heavy. It felt like freedom. "Where did you get ten grand?" Julian asked quietly. "Caleb said you were broke. He said you were drowning in debt." "Caleb was drowning in debt," I corrected. "I was the librarian who paid the bills."

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.

When I finished writing that, I suddenly started writing in my journal about this, from how it started to the whole scene. And as I’m speaking to you, I am staring at the page, at the last sentence: ‘If you want big money, you have to do something dirty for it.’ Then I titled the journal's day entry as Dirty Money.

"Uncle Lionel and Aunt Mindy really are rich…" Jenny pursed her lips. She knew it was true, but she didn't want to admit it. "Rich? All she did was write a few books. I don't believe every one of them will be a bestseller. Writers have their peak. Eventually, inspiration runs out. "When that happens, she won't be able to write anything good. No matter how rich they are, they can't beat the stability of our government jobs. Fast money doesn't last, you know?"

Afraid he might misunderstand, I hastily waved my hand, "No, nothing excessive. I don't want to ask you for money..." "Doll, anything that can be solved with money is the simplest. Even if you want any amount of money, I can provide it. I've never regretted a few pieces of paper." Nolan's words made me pause. He was the wealthiest man in the city, and even his undisclosed fortune was shocking. So for him, money was just paper, not the sweat, effort, and tears of hardworking people. And I was also bought by him with a huge sum just to satisfy a few moments in his extravagant world.

"It just seems like it's the only thing we ever do with our money." "What else are you going to do with your money? I don't see you spending it on anything. Even your house. You told me Henry was the one that took your money and bought you a house. If it weren't for him, you'd still be in that hovel of a pod home." "I just don't seem to need as many things as other people, I guess." "You could convert it all to gold and hoard it like a dragon." "I think you read too many fantasy novels."

He gets up from my chair, “I was thinking about that. Maybe I don’t need one now that you’re here.” I wince, “Johnny I don’t want to be your butler.” He pulls a chair near mine, “What if I double your salary?” Rage boils within me but I try to downplay it, “There is no amount of money that would make me desire to be at your beck and call.” He shrugs, “Suit yourself. I just thought it would be fun.” Of course he does, “You’re a sick man.” He laughs, “Would you do it for a million?”