The Price Is Your Everything Novel Novels & Stories

"Do you know how terrifying that is? To finally feel something real, something purely individual, and realize it threatens the very structure you built your life upon? When we took you, it wasn't just about ownership; it was about containing that beautiful, dangerous chaos you brought." He reached out, his hand resting lightly on my knee. The touch was not demanding, but vulnerable. "Every charming word, every flirtation, every manipulation was simply me securing you in the way I know best: by shattering your defense and proving that the cost of freedom is too high. I want you to look at me and see the strategist, yes, but also the man who is perpetually exhausted from being the perfect mirr

⸻ A Familiar Knock Two days later, Jordan showed up at her bookstore. The chime of the door startled her as she rearranged a display near the entrance. She looked up, expecting a customer—only to see him standing there, hands in his pockets, watching her like he had every right to be there. Naomi exhaled slowly, setting down the book in her hand. “If you’re here to buy something, we close in twenty minutes.” Jordan smirked. “And if I’m not?”

This — this hollow emptiness, this silence that screamed, this ache that sat in his bones, this was what he had earned. Not punishment from God. Not some cruel twist of fate. But the natural, inevitable consequence of treating something priceless like it was replaceable. He had traded gold for glitter. And when the shine faded… there was nothing left but dust. Christian sat back down at the edge of the windowpane, staring out as the clouds cracked open and a golden light poured through the storm. It was almost poetic — the universe saying: “You still have breath, but you must carry the weight of what you’ve done.”

“What colour do you want to start with?” “At least let me get dressed for this.” Seeing he’s pretending to not hear a word I say, I sigh. “White.” He hands me the white bag. It’s heavier than expected. When I peek inside, something catches in my throat. No way. I reach in and slowly pull out a hardcover novel — the limited edition. Bonus chapters. Character art. Gilded edges. The kind of cover you touch like it’s holy. It only released last month and costs more than my dignity. I’ve had it bookmarked in every browser tab like a prayer.

And buying a thing that doesn’t matter in our living. Speaking about money? I know it is really hard to understand and difficult to figure out. All we have to do is to be contented of how much and what blessing will be given to us. @DEATH WISH Thank you for supporting my Novel! You may also read my complete Novel, (hmmm... while waiting for an update) Title: TAMING THE DANGEROUS CEO THE DEVILISH BILLIONAIRE FATED TO MARRY THE DEVIL Thank you so much!

“A future. One that pays better than anything your mother ever offered you.” So he really did his homework. I look down, tracing my finger along the rim of the cup. This is everything Carrie would want for me. Everything I should want. But my instincts whisper something else. That it’s too easy. Too perfect. That the men who offer the world always want something in return. I lift my gaze, studying him. “I heard nothing goes for nothing,” I murmur. “What’s your price?” He tilts his head, a lazy smirk ghosting across his face. “Price?”

“The price is the future. Every generation that comes after you belongs to the source.” And right then, as if the room itself were alive, the heavy iron-bound book on the pedestal snapped open by itself with a thunderous crack. The yellowed pages began flipping wildly, the paper hissing like a snake, as if invisible hands were searching for the exact line where our names would be written in blood to seal the debt forever.

"Celine did the right thing. Didn't she start out so defiant? Now look at her. She has completely given in!" "Exactly. Someone like her deserves to be beaten to death. Who does she think she is, stealing someone else's man?" "And she said she was Shawn's mom? As if!" Celine gazed at me like she was admiring a piece of art she had crafted. Then, she pulled out her phone and began recording a video. She focused the camera on my face, which was now covered in swollen red rashes from my allergic reaction. I had been raised in comfort and luxury—I had never once endured hardship. Yet here I was, beaten to a bloody mess and humiliated on video.

He glanced at the dense blisters and scars on the back of my hand from making medicine, his face full of disdain. "Don't show off those disgusting hands to play pitiful. Who's that bitter little act for? It makes me nauseous." Calmly, I bent down, picked up the old medical book, and patted the dust off it. "Since you're all this confident, I wish Old Mrs. Whitmore a long life." After that, I walked out the front door without looking back. Tyler stood by the doorway with his arms crossed and sneered at my back. "Stop pretending you're noble. Without the Whitmore family, you won't even be able to afford food.

My name is Joseph Chapman. I met one of my best friends, Lance Ellis, in college. When the holidays came around, he invited me over to his place. Lance lived with his mom. It was just the two of them in a big house. The moment I stepped inside, I noticed a pair of women's high heels sitting neatly on the shoe rack. Inside one of the heels was a pair of worn stockings. They looked… weirdly tempting. While Lance was not paying attention, I quietly reached out, picked up the stockings, and brought them to my nose. I breathed in.