Twenty-five Thousand Five Hundred Novels & Stories

My cousin, John Anderson, always paid me in tens rather than in thousands. He owned a renovation company, and my team and I always worked hard for his projects. However, he only transferred me thirty dollars for sand and concrete that were worth three thousand dollars. Besides that, he only transferred me one thousand five hundred dollars to finance customized doors and windows worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I did not harp on that. Instead, I bore the cost in full, as he was my cousin. That was until his wife, Rory Anderson, scolded me in front of all the workers. “Peter’s a bloodsucker. He never informs us whenever he buys new materials. He must have scammed a lot of money from us! I saw that he got himself a new house and a new car. I bet these are all bought with money he took from us!” John smoked next to us and sighed, “Never mind. He’s family after all.” I was furious when I heard that. I paid more than six hundred thousand dollars’ worth of material fees for him, and he was accusing me of stealing his money? The next client had a mansion and wanted natural marbles worth hundreds of thousands of dollars for his living room floor. John approved the request but only transferred me a thousand dollars to get it sorted out. So, I went to the brick factory located in the countryside and got a truckload of used red bricks from pigpens. Then, I used them for the client’s flooring.

My boyfriend did not like my big chest. He gave me five hundred thousand dollars to go for a breast reduction surgery. At the same time, a mystery man suddenly transferred me five million dollars with a note telling me not to listen to my boyfriend. I gripped my phone tightly and secretly replied to my boyfriend’s best friend’s text message. [If you want me to listen to you, money is not enough.] He immediately texted back. [What are you saying? I don’t understand.] I replied. [Forget about it. I’m heading to the hospital now.] As expected, he got anxious. [What else do you want?] [Do you have 7 inches?] [I have 10 inches.] [I won’t believe you until I see it for myself.] After that, he proved it to me through his actions.

Heart has no other option but to seek help from her manager. Her father needs a heart operation worth five hundred thousand pesos. As the eldest child, the weight of this responsibility falls on her shoulders. She needs to find a way, even if it means making a difficult decision. For several weeks, she'll be at the mistress of an unknown man, for two hundred fifty thousand pesos, because she's a virgin. That was the offer from an unknown, unscrupulous man. Take it or leave it. She'll let herself be used while she's asleep, so she doesn't have a chance to get to know the man she's selling herself to. Due to extreme desperation, she agreed immediately to save her father, who is on the brink of death. She no longer has the opportunity to learn about the man who will be intimate with her and own her. She has to save her dying father, no matter who takes her. But the man she briefly saw is not ugly. He's incredibly handsome and her boss, the billionaire Deluxe Montesalvo, who has been married for three years!

On the day I'm supposed to get promoted as the deputy director, I pick up a 40-pound barbell before breaking my right arm with it. Because of the injury, I missed the only title-evaluating surgery available in five years. Everyone feels sorry for me, seeing as I've practically ruined my own future with my own hands. But I, on the other hand, am so excited about it that I've downed two bottles of vintage wine in one go. Because in my past life, I spent ten hours in surgery and pulled the patient back from the brink of death. But my wife, Megan Reese, immediately accused me of abusing my power as a doctor just to resolve a personal vendetta by killing her first love, Pierre Hopkins, on purpose. She bribed the nurses who were in the same surgery as me. They were adamant that I used the wrong medication purposefully, which led to the patient dying from a rupture. Not only was my career destroyed, but I also became a public enemy, hated by everyone. My mom tried to seek justice on my behalf, only to get cyberbullied by the Internet users, who knew nothing about the truth, to the point that she broke down. In the end, she accidentally fell into the river and drowned. When I received the tragic news, I chose to end my life by jumping off the hospital's rooftop. After I died, Megan spent my assets however she wanted. She also lived happily ever after with Pierre, who apparently "came back to life". When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm supposed to perform a surgery on Pierre.

As the older brother, I agreed to marry a dead woman just to get the five hundred thousand dollars for my younger brother to get married. My younger brother insisted that the middle-aged couple, who had lost their daughter, only wanted their daughter to experience being married before her death. My girlfriend also persuaded me to do it. She said I just needed to lie in the same bed as her for one night and do nothing. I nodded and agreed. But when I got to that family’s house, the parents pulled out a white bedsheet and handed it to me. “You have to actually be intimate with my daughter. Otherwise, I won’t pay you a single cent.”

“Five hundred thousand!'' ''One million!'' “Five million!” Hearing these men call these prices while the strange man twirled me, I could not help but feel disgusted. While I stood there, these men placing prices on me, I started to feel something. My wolf started to pick a scent, and next thing I knew, she called, ''mate''. ''Well, hello, mate.'' I clenched my fists as I turned, slowly, and turning to see who'd called me mate, I staggered at the sight of who it was. Alpha Alexander Ferrari, the most ruthless Alpha of all time. Before I could even make anything out of what was happening, he called, “Fifty million.” Hearing this, my legs almost gave way. . "I did not buy you so I could claim you, Amelia." He told me, and I stared at him, confused. "So, why did you buy me?" "So that you can bear me a child, the normal way…. WITH US MAKING LOVE.” WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT.

My best friend was obsessed with playing the part of a socialite, always chasing after rich heirs. When she saw posts online about guys making money over the summer by 'renting themselves out,' she decided to copy them. Two thousand for a hike. Five thousand for a dinner date. Twenty thousand for a trip. The prices kept climbing. I was worried she would run into the wrong kind of people, so I tried everything to talk her out of it, to keep her from walking straight into trouble. Later, the wealthy guy she had her eye on went public with another influencer who had built the same 'socialite' persona. She took it out on me. Sold me to a nightclub. I was abused in every way imaginable until I died. There was not even enough left of me to bury. Then, I opened my eyes again. She was already scheming: "Guys like that can make 500 just tagging along on a hike. I'm way prettier. Charging 2,000 isn't too much, right?"

I won a hundred million. Without a second thought, I quit my job, the one that paid me twenty thousand a month. My husband, who earned barely six thousand, assumed I had been laid off, and in that instant, he showed his true colors. "Let's get a divorce," he said calmly. "You're not good enough for me anymore." Even my mother-in-law, who had always seemed so gentle, turned on me without hesitation. "Get out of this house," she snapped. "And take your sick daughter with you. From now on, you're on your own." That was the moment I gave up on both of them. I did not argue. I did not try to stay. Meanwhile, they were thrilled, convinced they had finally rid themselves of me and my daughter, the burdens they no longer wanted. What they did not know was that inside my bag was not just a lottery ticket worth a hundred million. There was also a diagnosis. My husband, Wade Zeller, had late-stage stomach cancer.

It was almost New Year. I had just withdrawn money from the bank when I noticed that the amount on my passbook didn't match the cash in my hand. I counted carefully—my passbook showed a different figure than the five thousand dollars I was holding. Frustrated, I turned and went back to the counter to find the teller who had handled my transaction. Clutching the receipt, I tried to be polite. "Excuse me, I think there might be a mistake with this transaction." Instantly, she snapped, pointing her finger at my nose. "Don't you know that once you leave the counter, we are not responsible for any discrepancies?" I waved my hands, trying to explain. "No, wait, look again. I clearly withdrew five thousand dollars, but on my passbook, it shows…" She cut me off impatiently. "When you filled out the form, it was all right there. Once you leave the counter, it's not our problem. You signed the form yourself, confirming everything. Are we supposed to correct it every time someone claims a mistake after leaving the bank?" I froze. No wonder she kept repeating that the bank isn't responsible after leaving the counter. She thought I had come back to ask for more money. What I was really trying to explain was simple: I withdrew five thousand, yet my passbook showed that I deposited five thousand.

My husband of five years, Eric Vale, came home drunk again. As I laid him in our bed, he murmured, “Don’t worry, my love… I’ll take care of you and our baby.” My heart stopped. Baby? We’d been on birth control since the day we married. There was no baby. I shook him lightly. “What are you talking about, Eric?” He blinked at me, confused, then smiled like nothing had happened. “Hey, babe… did I say something?” The next morning, I checked our joint account. Every month, ten thousand dollars had been wired to a woman named Bella Evers. Yesterday, he sent two hundred thousand more—with a note: I can’t wait for our baby to be born. Bella was Eric’s mistress and was now six months pregnant. So I made one call. “Papa,” I told the most feared Don in the South, “I’m getting a divorce.” I glanced at my sleeping husband. “I want him gone. And I want him broke.”