The Invisible Billionaire Novels & Stories

And I pathetically still love him. Why? I am scared as hell too. Why do things like these always happen to me? Why can't I have a bit of normal life? How could I never notice? Why didn't I look deeper? Was I that ignorant? Remembering what was in the files and letters, people described him as. A ruthless killer. A monster. A devil. I fell in love with a devil. He was the billionaire in disguise.

I closed my eyes briefly before whispering softly into the silence: “Okay, billionaire.” Then slowly opened them again. “Let’s see what exactly you’re hiding.”

Vane Industries felt like a giant, glass cage, a place built on greed and cold hearts. The elevator dings; Val froze. Nobody was supposed to be on the sixty-second floor this late. The "big bosses" usually left by seven to go to their fancy parties. She tucked herself into a dark corner behind a large potted plant, holding her breath. Heavy footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Thud. Thud. Thud. A man walked into the light. He was tall, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Val’s entire life. Even from the back, she knew that frame. She knew the way he carried his shoulders, like he owned the very air he breathed.

The morning light bathed the Blake estate in a golden hue, painting warmth over marble floors and family portraits. The scent of freshly baked croissants lingered in the air, mingling with laughter and the soft clinking of coffee cups. Ethan Blake stood by the tall windows of his study, dressed in a crisp navy suit that framed his broad shoulders. His reflection on the glass showed not just a billionaire but a man transformed. Behind him, the mahogany desk held a single, important document—stamped with the Blake Industries seal.

Once the last person leaves, Michael turns to look at me. “We have a new investor,” he states. “Okay? Is that worth disrupting an important meeting for?” I ask and cross my arms over my chest. Michael crosses the room and holds out his phone, showing the message from the company’s lawyers. I take his phone and scan the page, my eyes slowly widening. “An invisible investor,” Michael begins, “wants to invest millions into our company. Millions that he wants to send to your new project, Adrian. This is huge!” I look up from the phone, a small and surprised laugh flying from my lips. I pass him the phone and rest my hands on my hips, all of my dreams and aspirations finally coming true.

"The billionaire? What's he doing here?" "Charity event in the west wing. Though after that scandal with his ex-fiancée, I'm surprised he shows his face anywhere." "I heard he's looking for a new girlfriend. Someone to clean up his image." "A fake girlfriend, you mean. Like those Hollywood contracts." My feet stopped moving. Brett Graham. Everyone knew that name. The tech mogul who'd built an empire from nothing, worth billions, cold as ice and twice as ruthless. "How much do you think someone would pay for that kind of arrangement?" the first nurse asked.

It was a live video transmission routing directly from a private, ultra-exclusive penthouse suite in the heart of the city. A sleek, impeccably tailored billionaire—a rival tycoon who had been quietly backing her father's offshore debts from the shadows—appeared on the screen. He held a glass of dark scotch, his expression entirely cold as he looked directly at Vivian's soot-stained form through the camera link.

It would look odd to the other parents and teachers to see billionaire Scott Kelly in raggedy jeans and a T-shirt with paint stains. He had taken on the persona of small independent contractor and single dad Scott Jenkins after his divorce from Marlena. During that time, the press and thirsty single ladies were all over him. He couldn’t take the pressure, and Clay was only a toddler. To keep his sanity and to protect Clay’s privacy, he had dropped out of society. He had become the elusive billionaire – so much so, half of his employees at Kelscot Construction didn’t even know what he looked like. The only time he was seen as his true self was when he had to speak to teachers and attend event

Just a fraction. Just enough that the city light through the window caught the edge of a thin, distinctive white scar that ran from his left temple into the dark hairline—the scar I had seen in every tech magazine, every Forbes cover, every investor profile for the last two years. The scar that belonged to Cassian Voss, the reclusive, ruthless billionaire whose fund was the only one left on my list that could keep my company from dying. My blood turned to ice and pure fire at the exact same second.

He seemed he was not affected by the blood flowing out from his forehead. She just thought the billionaires were untouchable because of their loads of money, but seeing Bill’s pity face now, she was wrong. “Nothing. It’s just a scratch.” Bill said and walked past her. He strode inside her room and locked the door. The old butler was puzzled. Bill Sky and Young Madame? Like a hedgehog, old butler spikes rose up when he thought how rich was the man in his young Madame’s room. The most wealthy and powerful businessman in capital Z and known all over the world, Bill Sky.