Novels by Wealth

Gerald narrowed his eyes. Even without speaking, the aura of success and authority radiating from him was unmistakable. “In Aurelia,” he said evenly, “only Cassian Valtarre and I are qualified to compete for that position. No one else is worth mentioning.” He paused, then continued, “That means there’s a real chance Miss Nyra will choose us. You need to get close to her. Once we secure her favor, the partnership will be official.” Just the thought made Lucien’s blood heat up. Nyra Valeryn. The daughter of Centurio. Her status, beauty, and influence stirred something greedy inside him. After a moment, he asked cautiously, “What about Liora Valtarre?” He had stayed by Liora’s side for nearly a year, believing that—with Master Halvion’s help—he could eventually claim her heart. But then a man had appeared out of nowhere and ruined everything. After investing so much effort, Lucien wasn’t confident he could still get what he wanted from her. Gerald’s lips curved into a fai

The Dragon Head curled into himself and retched violently. He was a complete mess, vomiting acidic bile onto the corridor floor. Despite his condition, the sect leaders crowded around him in panic. “Dragon Head, how are you?” “Quick—take him to the back!” “We’ll avenge you!” “Kill that bastard!” Behind the twenty-five sect leaders stood hundreds of armed subordinates. At the order, weapons were raised in perfect unison, blades and steel glinting under the corridor lights. Every gaze locked onto the suite door, ready to strike at any moment. Then footsteps echoed. Drayce walked out calmly. Seeing the scene before him, he smiled faintly, completely unsurprised. From the moment the alarm rang, he had known reinforcements would come. This group was clearly only the first wave—there would be many more downstairs. But numbers meant nothing to him. Casually, he asked, “Single combat… or a group fight?” The corridor fell silent. Everyone stared at him in disbelief. A young m

The name lingered in the guard’s mind for a second too long. Drayce. He gave the young man another look—plain clothes, calm eyes, no hint of panic—then gestured stiffly. “Wait here.” Turning on his heel, he pushed open the heavy suite doors to report. Inside, the Dragon Head stood in the center of the room, one foot planted atop a velvet couch, a glass of wine forgotten in his hand. 🎶 “Watch the cavalry sweep across the endless land— I stand in the eye of the storm with—” 🎶 His voice boomed, rough yet strangely passionate. He loved this song. Five hundred years. Power. Longevity. Dominion. It suited him. “—five hundred more years!” The last note echoed off the walls. His brows knit when the door creaked open. The mood shattered. “What is it?” he snapped, irritation seeping into his voice. He despised interruptions—especially while singing. The guard bent low and whispered near his ear. “Mr. Philips, there’s a man outside asking for you. He says his name is… D

“Hold up!” Brannik Kade called out again, his sharp eyes sweeping over Drayce from head to toe. People usually shrank the moment they heard his name. Fear came first—then obedience. Yet this young man in front of him didn’t even blink. If anything, Drayce looked bored. That alone made Brannik uneasy. This wasn’t confidence born of ignorance. It felt… deliberate. This guy was hiding something. Heck, he had even dared to call the Dragon Head by name. “You know the Dragon Head?” Brannik asked carefully, testing the waters. “Ask him yourself,” Drayce shot back. A murmur rippled through the men behind Brannik. How much did this guy really know about the Dragon Head? Just then, Brannik’s phone connected. His posture shifted instantly, arrogance draining from his face as he straightened and lowered his voice. “Dragon Head, sir… are you busy right now?” “Get to the point!” the Dragon Head snapped. His temper was foul. Moments ago, he had been told of Drayce’s so-called

Cassian Valtarre knew he would only get real answers by bringing up the marriage agreement. Sure enough, the Dragon Head’s attitude did a complete one-eighty. No wonder Drayce hadn’t ordered him to act against the Valtarre family yesterday—doing so would’ve landed the Dragon Head in serious trouble. “I see!” the Dragon Head chuckled. “To be frank with you, Mr. Valtarre, I’m not entirely sure of Mr. Drayce’s identity either. A friend of mine asked me to assist him while he’s in town. That’s all.” Of course, he couldn’t reveal that the order had come directly from his Temple Lord. A friend? Cassian hummed thoughtfully. That friend had to be powerful—otherwise, the Dragon Head himself wouldn’t be so subservient to Drayce. “Did this friend of yours spend some time in prison?” Cassian asked. That seemed the only plausible way Drayce could’ve met such a mysterious figure. “Yes,” the Dragon Head replied. “They’re still in prison.” Cassian nodded in understanding. Beside him, Lyria sc

“You lost.” Liora’s teeth were clenched when she said it, each word scraped out of her chest. “There’s no need to race anymore. You lost the moment he took control of your horse.” Her voice carried finality. She turned away as if she couldn’t bear to look at Lucien any longer—but her gaze flicked back despite herself. The instant her eyes landed on the scene, heat rushed to her cheeks. She stiffened, then walked off briskly, chin lifted. Around them, the spectators followed suit, clearing away in awkward silence. No one wanted to acknowledge it. The horse had taken an unsettling liking to Lucien—and Lucien was trapped beneath its shadow, pride crushed flatter than the dirt he lay on. By the time Drayce stepped off the race track, the noise behind him had dulled into a distant blur. The air felt lighter out here, freer. Then he saw her. “…Okay,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “Now she really is stalking me.” Selara Veryin was pushing through the crowd with purpose, skirts