Rejected Billionaire Novels & Stories

Only the clatter of cutlery and the soft hum of the AC can be heard. “My friends and I are organizing a charity gala tonight, and I want you both to attend,” he says, pointing his index finger at the two of us seated at the table. “I think it’s time to let my friends and associates know the Davidson future is safe, and worth their money if they invest in us.” My heart flutters. My chest tightens. I’ve never been to these kinds of things before. I don’t fit into the billionaire world. Not only that, but I’ve always been a contented girl. If not for my father’s insatiable quest for wealth, maybe I’d be on a vacation right now—right next to Barry.

I actually believed that bastard. "You were due for the promotion, I didn't do anything besides-'' "Besides making them overlook the fact that I actually have no certificate," that's the worst of all. "I'm quitting." "You like that job," he pointed out in his weak attempt to keep me under his control. "No, you just like knowing where I am and when you can reach me whenever you want." "And what's so wrong with that? You're technically still mine." Sometimes, I wished he could read the mood and not just spit out his venom like an idiot. How did he become a billionaire again? Oh right! Generational wealth.

Just when I need him, he disappears. "Just keep tracking Finn and find out who his previous clients were. Maybe we can get some information on them," I demanded. "Sure thing, boss," he smiled at me sarcastically. Tsk. Maybe if Finn and those dangerous people hunting us didn’t exist, our lives would be more free, and I could bond openly in public with my family and friends. Everything we do is always done in secret. Still, being a billionaire isn’t so bad. You can buy what you want at any time and anywhere. Many rivals want to bring down the world's most powerful and wealthy because they don't want you at the top. Some individuals, such as Finn, turn to illicit ventures in an attempt to rise

Vivienne revealed, her voice dropping to a dangerous, steady whisper that caused Roman’s entire body to freeze instantly. "The Vanguard Trust? That is an international conglomerate that has been aggressively buying up our debt for the last three fiscal quarters, so there is absolutely no way a linguistics graduate from a middle-class background could control those assets," Roman stammered, his face turning pale as he tried to process the information, his mind desperately rewriting everything he thought he knew about his wife.

“Did you see anything in the room at least, that could help you Identify him? I hesitated, the watch flashing in my mind. “I know he's rich, like filthy rich. He had a Patek Philippe Grandmaster chime on the nightstand.” Laura blinked, “I've heard that name before,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Isn't that Scott's dream watch?” She asked. I nodded, my chest tightening. “ It is.” “Oh Linda, I'm so sorry for bringing him up.” She apologized. “It's fine,” I said softly.

“We’re aligned, then. We shake Maya’s confidence. Discredit her quietly. And let the board’s golden boy drown in his own control issues.” Malcolm leaned back, watching the skyline flicker. “And the patron?” “He said to proceed.” Leah filled in. Victor smirked. “He has a thing for watching empires fall, doesn’t he?” Leah continued“And He demands assurances.” Malcolm’s gaze flicked up, amused. “You mean the man who funds this table and refuses to show his face?” “He Prefers the term Patron,” Leah said, a little too quickly. “He prefers… discretion.”

“Yeah, Dad.” “I’ve got good news,” Victor’s voice could be heard from the other side. There was excitement in his voice which was a rare thing. “A big billionaire has shown interest in our company and is willing to invest.” “Oh, that’s great. Who’s this billionaire?” Vivian asked in delight. “Adrian J Claimer.” Vivian’s expression froze for a second. She couldn’t believe it. “You mean… the son of Sir Gareth Claimer?” “Yeah.”

“But I won’t deny it—he’s gorgeous as hell.” What was she talking about? I followed her gaze. Electric black eyes scanned the room. People turned to look at him as he entered. He moved through the crowded club with an air of superiority. Just like the first time he brought me here. A head-turning billionaire. A narcissistic billionaire who carefully guards his image. Magazines paint him as generous. A philanthropist. A donor. A man who runs an orphanage. Please. Even if the sea boiled or a volcano erupted, I doubt he’d spare a penny without purpose.

I've just booked a restaurant for my seventh wedding anniversary with my wife, Melanie Rowland, when several lines of text suddenly appear across my vision. "Would you like to take part in a loyalty test? "We'll randomly give your wife a system. If she tells you about it, you win, and the two of you will receive one million dollars." After seven years of marriage, I have no doubt Melanie loves me. As far as I'm concerned, that million dollars is already in the bag. Still, I'm curious enough to ask one question. "What if we lose?" "If you lose, it proves your marriage has failed. In return, you'll receive a mystery prize big enough to let you start your life over. "The price of partici

whispered someone in the troupe. As the dancers chatted quietly about Damien, I learned he had a background quite different from mine. He had graduated from Stanford, his father was a math professor at the university, and his mother taught humanities. Known for his exceptional skills in numbers since childhood, Damien swiftly rose to become a renowned senior trader in the finance world. People now hailed him as the undefeated Wall Street legend. Damien was indeed a remarkable billionaire, veiled in mystery.