Your Paid Story Novels & Stories

"Don't worry, it's a very easy problem. Just send a picture and in less than an hour the story will be a trending topic." "Good! I'll wait. Send me your account number, I'll transfer 50 percent of the price we agreed on and pay the rest after your work is done." "Don't forget the added bonus you promised if the news trended for six hours after it went viral. Or I'll reveal your identity!" "I know and there's no need to threaten me. I'll keep my promise if your work is satisfactory!" Fely hung up the phone and sent some of the photos she had received from Nina. She then wrote diligently on his laptop.

Her father had already arrived from the factory and since she was home, he cooked a simple meal for two and now both after meal father and daughter were sitting in the living area where she decides to take updates about everything from him. “I have talked with a money lander. His name is Enzo Accardi. Tomorrow I’m going to meet him.” Fredrick spoke to which Gina simply heard while continuing cutting his nails but her father was staring at her. Although he had mentioned that he would set them free from the debt yet she doubted his intention.

The blend of greens and warm colors, as well as the chemistry of the lush garden and coffee and books make my burden less heavy. I was still wearing that dress that I’ve worn since early morning. I was the one that bought this, immediately paying first on the mall’s counter before Darwin could hand them his credit card. As much as I would want to let him pay for my apparel, I am an independent woman who’s used to buying my own clothes—from underwear and sneakers and lipsticks to shoes—with my own goddamn money. And if I ever made him pay for my personal belongings, I bet that the stack of debt that Derrick owed him will be much higher and bigger—and more difficult to be paid with just my swe

As I scrolled through the lively chat, the discomfort I felt eased a little. … Lucy showed up late on Sunday. She claimed to have been held up, and I didn't think much about it. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food very much. When the meal was over, I wanted to transfer the extra money back to them, but they all said it was fine. They even gave me an extra 500 dollars each. Smiling widely, Lucy said it was just a token of appreciation from everyone. I felt quite touched by that. Later that night, after cleaning up the kitchen, I finally managed to sit down and get some rest. Just then, Lucy added my personal number to a group chat that was named "Matured Investment Withdrawal".

Charles was one step ahead of me in responding to Noelle’s question. “I paid him for this spot.” Noelle glanced at me with a frown while I raised the check in my hand. “I took the money. It’s ten million dollars.” Noelle was stunned. Cocking her head back, Noelle observed Charles’ smug face. He seemed proud of himself. Her hard grimace drew tension in the room. She said nothing, as if accepting the situation as it was. Once I was out of the office, Noelle threw Charles’ arm off her shoulders.

I wonder just how far your pathetic company will get without Noelle. But Julian didn't seem to hear a word. He just kept crying, begging for my forgiveness. Dad ordered the guards to kick him out. By the time Zoey arrived, Julian had already been dumped on the ground, looking utterly disheveled. She rushed over to help him up, looking genuinely concerned as she asked, "Mr. Grant, why do you even bother? "Ms. Jones' getting married soon… You should just let her go." But Julian simply shoved her away and rasped, "Leave. I'll give you some money—enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life without working.

Paying as your mother was an employee, the ultimate humiliation where I pay my mother to clean the house, in addition to paying the contract later, turning my mother into a real employee. My money serves to cause pain, humiliation and suffering in humanity. I want to receive remuneration from Points Culture International as well.

“Did you pay for it? Then it’s your gift?” “Of course I paid! It’s a gift for Mommy! Grandma, from today on, I’ll pay you back for this gift with my pocket money every day. Until it’s paid off, I won’t spend any pocket money!” Evander: “… Who gives you pocket money? How is it yours…” “It’s okay, I give it to Zoe. We don’t use Daddy’s!”

I didn’t expect a reply. The next morning, after the school run, I checked my laptop. She had answered. Her message was friendly and brief. She explained that she used YouTube to bring people over to her main paid page on P*****n. I thanked her and started turning the idea over in my mind. I was still a size ten with decent curves even after two children, but the thought of putting myself online like that made me nervous. Then another notification appeared: my credit card payment of five hundred pounds was due by the end of the month. I had eight days.

Paid per article. "Hey, this one looks legit," I said, clicking it. Laura peered over. "‘Small but growing’ is code for ‘we can’t pay you shit.’" I groaned. "Yeah, well, I need some kind of income." "Fine. Apply. But if they try to pay you in gift cards or coupons, I’m burning their office down," she muttered. I ignored her and opened my old portfolio. A bunch of archived articles from back when I actually cared about journalism.