The Billionaire Marni Mann Novels & Stories

“The man has connections to the mayor and I heard he’s buying that rundown mall in Sundance to convert it into some sort of fancy food market.” “Laura, I don’t care if the man is connected to the president or he’s as rich as Bernard Arnault. He’s not marrying my daughter and that’s final!” John declared. “You know what, I need to go upstairs and lie down,” Kate said as she gingerly rose to her feet. “You’re not going anywhere,” Laura informed her. “You will sit down and come up with a solution to this problem you’ve created for this family. Since Mr DaCosta is not good enough for you to marry, tell us now how you plan on fixing this mess.”

If I let myself feel even a fraction of what Natty was talking about, the whole facade would crumble. ​I stood up to leave, but as I walked toward the door, a man entered the store. He wasn't like the typical wealthy patrons. He was younger, perhaps in his early thirties, with a rugged, unstudied elegance. He wore a simple dark coat and had the kind of eyes that looked like they’d seen too much. ​"Can I help you, sir?" Natty asked, stepping back into her professional role. ​The man didn't look at Natty. He kept his eyes on me. "I was looking for the owner. I heard the Smith heiress was making waves in the retail sector. I didn't realize she’d be doing it in person."

But Adrian did. Because the man in the photo was Marcus Dray. A hedge fund criminal. Currently serving twenty years for one of the biggest Ponzi schemes in U.S. history. Leila’s face went sheet-white. “I didn’t know who he was then,” she whispered. “It was one party. One picture.” But the implication? DevaTogether Selene’s voice was soft. “This won’t just touch you, Leila. It’ll drag Adrian into it too.”

The clink it made as it hit the wood, rang out sharply throughout the quiet room. The world outside mirrored the chaos within. Tabloid headlines everywhere screamed with speculation—Madison’s absence was a mystery that refused to be ignored. The rumors escalated to wild theories, some even whispering accusations of foul play. My status as a billionaire thrust me into a spotlight harsher than any regular business owner. It was impossible to ignore, especially given the recent bombshells: the surprise child, the whirlwind engagement, and not to forget, the shadows of the court case from my past.

There was something oddly comforting about the banter, about being surrounded by people who, in some twisted way, cared. They rode a limo—yes, a damn limo—and hindi mapigilang mag-isip si Riva kung kanino ito nanggaling. Hindi naman ganuun kayaman si Luther—or so she thought. Dagdag pa’t madali niya lang ipinamimigay ang fifty thousand pesos na kailangan ni Riva para lang sa isang date. Hindi na magtatagal ay mag-iisip siyang may sugar daddy na ang binata.

“But I’m honoured to finally introduce you to the man I’ve been keeping to myself, Dante Moreau.” Gasps. A glass shattered. Someone actually whispered holy shit. Because that name, that face, that man, wasn’t just rich. He was untouchable. Elusive. A billionaire ghost whose appearances were limited to boardrooms and court filings. No woman had ever been seen on his arm. No tabloid had ever caught him in a compromising photo. If there had been a sweepstakes for Least Likely To Be Secretly Engaged To Me, he would’ve been the odds-on favorite.

Just like everything else now. The man who stepped out of the backseat was tall, commanding. His presence didn’t fill the space—it owned it. Dark eyes, sharper than they had any right to be. Expensive watch. Straight posture. An unsettling calm. Kian Wilson. I’d heard the name before. The billionaire man who owned the largest fashion company I had been dreaming of working in. Ruthless investor. Quiet, private, and devastatingly powerful. And for some unfathomable reason, he had saved me.

His gaze was cold, yet his charismatic aura silenced the crowd. Kimmy’s eyes widened. That man was not the fifty-five-year-old she had been told about. Kimmy’s heart pounded harder. She truly couldn’t understand. When she finally reached the altar, the man’s name rang clearly as the pastor introduced him. “Mr. Grayson Vanderbilt Blackwood.” Kimmy froze, her eyes growing wide. Grayson Vanderbilt Blackwood. The name was not unfamiliar. The richest young man in the capital, a billionaire known for his coldness, cruelty, and constant presence in business magazines and on television. Rumors even said he often changed partners.

Tonight was the Bennett Foundation Gala five hundred of New York's elite crammed into the Plaza, writing checks they'd never miss to causes they would never think about again. And he would be there. Dante Russo. My chest tightened just thinking his name. I'd seen his face in Forbes, in the Wall Street Journal, on the covers of magazines that treated him like some kind of king. CEO. Philanthropist. Self-made billionaire. They had no idea what he really was. What we really were. I turned from the window and picked up my clutch it was small and expensive, containing nothing but lipstick, a fake ID, and the kind of courage that only comes from having nothing left to lose.

Manuel said I know, father, but I want to do it. She thought that this would be a great opportunity to get revenge on the man she had devoted her life to. Bruce Knight and his family are one of the richest people in America, and she hoped that he would do everything he could to make his wife happy. At least she hoped for that. Manuel looked at his daughter and asked, Honey, are you sure? At that moment, his phone rang, and he did not even pay any more attention to his daughter.