The Price Is Your Everything Spoilers Novels & Stories

That set of seat cushions was custom-made leather, costing eight thousand dollars. The hanging ornament was a protective charm my daughter had handmade, and the box in the trunk contained gifts I had paid for myself, prepared for clients. I stood behind a pillar, watching them toss everything onto the ground like they were raiding a house, leaving it all to be stepped on. Winnie even got into the driver’s seat, held the steering wheel, took a photo, and posted it on her social media.

"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.

For us to keep up the charade, people must first believe us to have had some sort of professional relationship before announcing to everyone that things turned serious. “I’d be livid if you ever tried to repay me for it,” I reply. She chews on her bottom lip, clearly not getting any reprieve from my words. “It just feels weird for you to buy me all of that. Some of that stuff was so expensive.” I shake my head at her. “The price doesn’t matter. I’ve got enough money to go around, trust me.” She tucks her hands into the large pocket on the front of her sweatshirt. “Well, I tried choosing the less expensive things, but it’s hard when most items don’t have their price even listed. What’s the po

He was well-versed, answering questions before they could be asked, erasing any doubt that might arise from the consumers in the room. The excitement could be seen in their eyes. Today’s meeting was a success. All prototypes would be ordered in the masses. Mr. Wells, the one and only, had done it again. Naomi could not contain her excitement. She was the first to clap, and she didn’t care that she was being stared at. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl in that moment.

“Yes, and everything here today came with a price tag” Clearly I could see it, he didn’t have to repeat it. Receiving an expensive gift is one thing, but accidentally coming across the price, you might want to return it. Gosh this feels hard. “I got not just the finest and best quality of materials for you but the most expensive in the country. And with everything here today Joanne, I want you to memorize every material and the price it came with” Hardy sounded almost quiet but dead serious too. And memorize the prices on these gifts .

Only monsters did that. “Bravo, Paul Jackson!” Darius said smiling coldly, giving Paul a fake round of applause. “You deserve an award for the best liar here… Because this was a great story… But, you see, you and I both know it’s nothing but a fabrication. I’ve always been right here. Always! If you’d truly wanted to find me, you would have. You are after all Paul Jackson… With your limitless fortune and resources, nothing you want can be out of reach.”

“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?”

⸻ Nothing here was free. ⸻ “You stay.” ⸻ A pause. ⸻ “For now.” ⸻ There it was. ⸻ The condition. ⸻ The trap. ⸻ Aria’s grip tightened. ⸻ “What’s the price?” ⸻ The figure smiled. Just slightly. ⸻ “We observe.” ⸻ A beat. ⸻ “And when you fail—” ⸻ Their voice dropped. ⸻ “We take everything.” ⸻

He smiled when he saw Freeda—not surprised—not confused. “Miss James,” he said, polite and certain. “Your father and I have unfinished business.” Freeda’s throat tightened. “Who are you?” The man’s smile did not move. “Malcolm Price.” Scott shifted beside her. Price’s eyes flicked to Scott, then back to Freeda, calm and cold. “I am glad you stopped hiding,” Price said. “Now we can talk about what you owe.” Freeda did not step back. “I do not owe you anything.”

She let out an icy huff. "Smart girl. I'm giving you one last chance." "What kind of chance?" "I want a whopping four million and five hundred thousand dollars. Cough up the cash, and I'll get these Indoria locals to back off and spare you, unless you want to end up dead." Was she seriously demanding a fortune like she was the queen of the world? I scrunched my eyebrows and shot back. "Have you lost your mind? If I had that kind of money lying around, why would I have bothered with that crazy bride hunt with you?"