The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari Novels & Stories

"Humor me." So I followed him inside, and somehow, some ridiculous part of me went along with it. We spent the next hour surrounded by the most beautiful cars I’d ever seen, and several overexcited salespeople. Adrian kept asking for my opinion like this was perfectly normal, and before I could even process how any of it was real, he was signing papers for a navy-blue Ferrari 599 GTO with my name on it. How on earth did that just happen? I still felt like it wasn’t real, and someone was going to pinch me awake very soon. And I didn’t know whether to scream and hug him or reject it and run away.

The map of the country had become a blur of toll roads, gray-scale motels, and the suffocating monotony of interstate highways. Dante traveled with the intensity of a man possessed, his movements stripped of all the excess of his former life. He didn't use the private jets or the luxury cars. He bought a battered, unremarkable sedan from a private seller in a back-alley district, paying in cash he’d managed to siphon from a dormant account before he burned the empire to the ground.

"€1,500,000 is $1,600,000. Is he stupid? No wonder he's poor." "Did he come here thinking that rich heirs like us would give him a million dollars? Hey, kid. Dream on!" … Preston said loudly, "Do you find that odd? I know this guy too. He's good at acting like a pretentious prick! "Do you guys remember the most expensive Ferrari in the world that was driven to Little Xeottect during the Aspar Games previously? It was even on the news. I saw that Ferrari. It is indeed the most expensive Ferrari in the world with the most advanced technology. But this guy has no morality and manners at all. He opened the car door and drove it."

"It's really a small sum of money compared to the modifications. And, like I've said before, the Ferraro family couldn't go bankrupt within this lifetime if we tried to." "And we're not trying," Massimo continued, not letting Elena get in a single word. "In fact, my businesses are turning a great profit right now. I could buy the earth two times over—if you asked me to." Elena laughed awkwardly. Why was Massimo so talkative today? And why was he bragging instead of talking about work? Elena had never been more pleased by Massimo's terrible driving—it gave her something to focus on that wasn't Massimo's constant bragging. As soon as he pulled up to the hospital, Elena quickly got out of the c

He hesitated. Not because of her. But because of what she represented now. A crack in Lucien Moretti’s armor. And if The Vulture had learned anything in all his years, it was this: you don’t break a monster head-on. You bleed him slowly. Through the people he swore he’d never lose. He pocketed the phone. He’d wait a little longer. But not forever. The world would know his name again. Not the one they whispered in courtrooms or carved into tombstones.

the old monk said, "meeting is fate. I have something I want to give you." Elisa White looked at the old monk. "Do you all like to give things to others? Eminent monks in TV dramas and movies love to take this route and show a sense of existence . I'm just passing by. You'd better keep it, teacher and father. Don't spend money." The old monk looked at the sky silently, thinking that this was the test of the Buddha's sincerity, and kept smiling. "You misunderstood. You have something that doesn't belong to you. Although it doesn't affect your body now, it will still make you feel uncomfortable after a long time. I have a sachet here that can be adjusted. You can wear it continuously for one w

Serena's POV Across the ocean in a dimly lit room, I watched the Ferrari stock prices plummet on my screen while swirling red wine in my glass, settling back into the leather sofa with satisfaction. And sitting across from me now was the most powerful Mafia boss in Sicily—Lorenzo Rosetti. "Congratulations, Mr. Rosetti. Soon the Ferraris will be crushed under your heel." Lorenzo's lips curved into a smile. "Never imagined the spare Ferrari daughter would go after her own family this ruthlessly. Color me impressed."

I looked at the black card in Fred's hand, it seemed like a ticket to luxury, a golden chain linking me and Damian. I could feel a swarm of butterflies erupting in my stomach, a mixture of nerves and pure excitement. "Is there a limit?" I teased Damian paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "Try break it, Aria I dare you" He smirked— the first real one I have seen this morning. "Let's see" I grinned, biting my index finger softly, as I watched him turn away. He left me then, but his scent was still strong in the room. I hurried to the window, peeping through the heavy silk curtain. I watched as his BMW 7 series glided down the driveway, as silent and powerful as a ghost.

One year ago… I shouldn’t be here… My eyes narrowed on his tattooed knuckles as his grip tightened over the motorbike handlebars. And not just any motorbike. It was a freaking Ducati Panigale V4 R. I didn’t know what made my body burn hotter. The beauty of the metal gleaming beneath the lights or the beast of a man sitting on it. Holy shit. I was standing inches from Darius Monroe–aka the Savage–in the blazing hot, over six-foot tall, golden, muscular flesh!

Before I know it, before I want to, I'm leaning forward in order to hear him better. “You probably don't remember me, but my name is Dante Giovanetti. Your parents worked for me at the time they passed away. I own the Mona Lisa.” Jesus fucking Christ. The richest and most powerful man in Las Vegas is standing outside my door. And he knows my name. This can't be happening. “Yeah?”