The Price Is Your Everything Novel Novels & Stories

"Go ahead, run and hide! It doesn’t matter where you run off to. I’ll make sure you pay for our daughter’s death." It was late autumn, and the courtyard was carpeted with a dense layer of fallen leaves. I stayed silent for a long time before finally nodding and stating in an indifferent voice, "I see." In the end, their so-called love was not even worth $800,000. Steam curled slowly from the coffee. I thought I recognized a faint mirage of the young Evan through the steam. There he was in a faded school uniform, waving at me from the classroom doorway. His smile was radiant.

she retorted, her patience dwindling in the face of his persistence. His response dripped with an unsettling confidence, "You see, there's no need for pretense. Everything in life has a price tag. So, what's your price? How much do you desire?" The meaning behind his words remained elusive to Adina, who couldn't fathom what he meant. What price? Why did he accuse her of pretense? She had never encountered this man before, nor had he been present at the restaurant or engaged in any transaction that would explain his cryptic questions.

Paraphernalia and iconic New York symbols decorated the walls, but Kylee didn’t care if she was in New York, Virginia, or Egypt, as long as she was right here next to Price Hudson. “I’m glad you moved,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. But he heard her. He turned his head, his face mere inches from hers. His eyes flickered over her, and he swallowed. “Can I help you?” the boy behind the register asked. His tanned skin and sun-bleached hair said he’d rather be outside than behind the counter, and the way he drummed his fingers only proved the point. “Yeah.” Price stepped up. “I’ll take a Reuben, please.” He pulled a few bills from his wallet.

Patel breezed in like a tornado of rose-scented judgment. “Anna! Jace! I brought The Bhagavad Gita for Babies! It’s never too early for spiritual depth!” “Oh... thank you,” I said, taking the book with what I hoped was grace and not panic. Nathan immediately tried to eat it. “And don’t forget, my niece’s wedding is next week,” she added, eyeing Jace’s shirtless state and tousled hair. “You’ll need a kurta. I’ll measure you.” Jace made a noise like a dying cat.

Under the gaze of the entire office, I walked out without looking back. I went straight back to the villa. Her heels were still by the entryway, and her fashion magazines were scattered across the coffee table. Every piece of furniture in that house was something we had chosen together. I had once thought it would be our home for the rest of our lives. A few minutes later, I called a moving company. I didn't touch any of her things. From the walk-in closet, I took only my old clothes and the professional textbooks I had used over the years while studying on my own.

"I gave this to Mr. Goldstein! Just name your price! I'll transfer it to you right now!" Callista raised her phone watch, looking like she was about to transfer me the money. I was so shocked that I couldn't even feel the pain. Looking at Callista in front of me, I felt my limbs go numb. "Callista, what did you say?" So she repeated impatiently, "I asked you to name your price! You're willing to sell anything for money, aren't you? So hurry up and name me your price!" I felt as if my heart were being squeezed tight, so tight that I struggled to catch my next breath.

“Hey. Look at me.” Her breath caught, but she obeyed. “You are not a slut. You are not a villain. You’re a woman who had the courage to stop living a lie and take control of her story.” Tears filled her eyes. “Then why does it feel like I’ve lost everything?” “Because you have,” he said honestly. “Everything that wasn’t real. Everything that didn’t serve you. You’ve stripped it away, and now you’re standing in the wreckage. That’s terrifying, I know. But it’s also the start of something new.”

His laugh was a mixture of mocking and concern. "I know what a bracelet is. I don't know why you brought me this one." I said. "You don't ever wear jewellery. I thought you might want to." He said. I gaped at him and the bracelet, "how much did this cost?" I asked because no one at this school had a proper concept of money. $5,000 was pocket change to them. But they were still willing to lord that pocket change over someone's head. He rubbed the back of his head, "you're not supposed to ask that."

She glanced back down at the leather-bound book resting on the floorboards beside her. The empty pages seemed to stare up at her, daring her to turn them. With a trembling hand, she picked it up again, the leather warm against her palm. She knew she should get up, should finish unpacking, should do something practical, anything to distract herself from the throbbing between her legs. But she couldn't. She was hooked. The anonymous writer had become a guide, a seductress whispering secrets into her ear, and Pinky was a willing student, desperate to learn every lesson.

My stomach drops so fast it almost hurts. Six figures is more than my father lost in his final month before bankruptcy. More than my mother will earn in years. More than the total balance of every desperate calculation scribbled in the margins of hospital bills at home. Security starts moving toward me. I open my mouth. “I am so sorry. It was an accident. I will—” You will what, Andrea? Sell your kidney? The host pushes through the small crowd forming around the disaster, his expression strained but controlled. “This piece was specially acquired from a private European collection,” he says tightly. “It is not replaceable.”