To Become A Billionaire

I've always dreamed of hitting the jackpot overnight.

Every time I step out of the house, my bag contains a 300-gram chunk of yellow citrine, a gemstone believed to attract wealth in my culture. My mouse pad features a vibrant, cheerful lucky cat figurine, and my balcony is adorned with plants believed to bring prosperity, which I tend to with utmost care. Even my toilet seat is emblazoned with a golden ingot.

I'm always meticulously prepared to welcome the God of Wealth into my life.

And yet, Taylor Miller, my company's nemesis, keeps stealing my clients. This month, once again, his sales numbers have surpassed mine.

That sly, insincere man-always smiling with his lips but not his eyes in public while baring his teeth at me in private-was short, cunning, and as sly and cunning as a fox.

We joined the company's sales department around the same time. Technically speaking, he should call me "Senior", but when it comes to his methods, he has no sense of decency or honor.

He was the biggest obstacle on my path to fortune.

Just as I was consoling myself with the thought that a good woman doesn't stoop to fight with a scoundrel, my phone rang.

"Hello!" I perked up immediately, ready to tackle the call with boundless enthusiasm.

After all, being in sales means always staying sharp and professional.

"Hello, is this Sophia Dixon?"

Wow, the voice on the other end was even more enthusiastic and sweet than mine.

I was momentarily taken aback.

"Uh, yes, this is she. May I ask who's calling?"

"Oh, Ms. Dixon, hello! I'm a recruiter from Sands Corporation. On behalf of the Grand Fortune Group, we've reviewed your impressive resume and think you're an exceptional candidate!"

"I..." I was surprised.

"We'd like to invite you to join us as the Chairman's Executive Assistant. The annual salary is one million U.S. dollars, with 30 days of paid vacation, comprehensive benefits, and all living and work-related expenses fully covered. Would you consider this opportunity?"

"Uh?" This sounded way too good to be true. My instincts screamed "scam".

"Ms. Dixon! If you're interested, could you spare some time to come to our office for an interview tomorrow at 2 p.m.?"

"Well..."

Fortune favors the bold, so why not take a chance? What if it's real? It wouldn't hurt to try.

After hanging up, I immediately searched for all available information about the Grand Fortune Group and the phone number they'd used.

From business registrations to tax records and public activities, everything checked out. But I still wasn't convinced. Scammers these days are incredibly sophisticated.

I even called the local anti-fraud hotline to verify.

The officer assured me it was legitimate and praised my strong anti-scam awareness.

My heart raced as I replayed the recruiter's compliment about how "exceptional" I was.

Was I really that outstanding?

Ignoring my boss's relentless calls to drag me back to the office for another all-nighter, I lied about meeting an important client and slipped away.

First stop, a celebrity hairstylist I'd met years ago at an event. I'd always admired his work on social media, where he showcased his star-studded clientele. Now, it was finally my turn.

A few quick cuts, and I was $1, 600 poorer. My heart even ached when I paid.

Was I being reckless?

But as I admired my reflection-sharing the same stylist as A-list celebrities-I couldn't help but feel a touch of star power myself.

Expensive, yes, but undeniably worth it.

Next, I visited a luxury rental boutique to assemble the perfect outfit for the interview. From head to toe-bag, clothes, accessories, shoes-everything was rented.

I even squeezed in an appointment with a high-end beautician for a morning facial and makeup session.

This time, I was going all out.

By 2 p.m. the next day, I stood in the ultra-luxurious suite on the 101st floor of Central Plaza, trembling with nervous anticipation.

The panoramic view of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows didn't even register-I was too focused on the moment that could change my destiny.

But instead of grilling me with questions, the blonde, long-legged, mixed-race HR simply told me to stay in the suite for two days to "adjust to the environment".

Wait... was I hired already?

Confused, I mustered the courage to ask why. The HR manager looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Miss Dixon, as the Chairman's assistant, don't you need to get accustomed to his lifestyle first?"

Oh. That made sense.

Still, I couldn't resist asking another question.

"Miss HR, may I ask, what exactly makes me so exceptional?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself.

My breathing quickened, my throat went dry, and I was torn between fearing I'd lose this golden opportunity and worrying it was all an elaborate scam.

Sensing my doubt, the HR manager reassured me.

She admired a major deal I'd handled two years ago-a case so challenging that both parties had walked away completely satisfied.

Ah, that case! It had been a masterpiece, one that had stunned the entire industry.

Her praise reignited my confidence.

I, Sophia, was finally turning my luck around!

Before leaving, she handed me a set of car keys, saying I could drive any of the luxury cars parked downstairs, depending on my mood or outfit.

Even after she left, I felt like I was dreaming.

Soon, I was indulging in caviar, white truffles, and the company of two European hunks with perfect eight-pack abs at my beck and call.

Curious, I poked one of their chiseled pecs. Firm and springy.

This hedonistic lifestyle was straight out of a fantasy.

But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was no such thing as a free lunch.

The words of an old saying echoed in my mind, "Every gift from fate carries a hidden cost."

What price would I have to pay?

Finally, I received a notice, the Chairman would arrive the next day.

Excited and nervous, I barely slept. At dawn, I got up to prepare for his arrival.

But I waited and waited. By noon, there was still no sign of the Chairman-only a contract delivered to me.

The contract stated that I would inherit the Grand Fortune Group's assets, totaling one hundred billion dollars.

I stared at the endless string of zeros, feeling like I was drowning.

"Chairman!" I screamed into the vast, empty living room.

To my shock, the door swung open, and in walked Taylor.

Dressed in designer brands from head to toe, with a sapphire pin gleaming on his chest, he still wore that infuriatingly fake smile.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, instantly switching to battle mode.

Years of rivalry had conditioned me to react this way.

"Didn't you just call for the Chairman?" Taylor replied with a smirk.

"Stop it!" I barked, turning to the two hunks. "Throw him out!"

To my astonishment, they both bowed respectfully to Taylor. "Welcome back, Mr. Miller, Chairman of the Grand Fortune Group!"

I glanced at the portrait of the Chairman on the wall, utterly bewildered. "Taylor! You fraud! What's going on?"

The two hunks, who had been meek as lambs around me, now ordered me to show respect to the Chairman.

As Taylor leisurely lit a cigar, the truth dawned on me.

"Taylor, are you doing this to humiliate me, to see me make a fool of myself? Or... do you adore me? Just say it! Why are you spending all this money on me?"

I mentally calculated the cost of everything Taylor had orchestrated-venues, props, staff-but couldn't come up with a total.

Before I got a result, I collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy sigh, , utterly defeated.

"Taylor, why?"

"Marry me," he said.

"Still putting on the show? You deserve an Oscar for that performance!" I shot back sarcastically.

"If you want to become a billionaire, you have to marry me," he said, his tone serious.

"Does it have to be this way?" I found myself asking, against all logic. "Everyone knows we're like two blades constantly clashing, always at each other's throats."

Unfazed, he pulled out a photo and placed it in front of me.

It was a picture of an Arab sheikh with a woman who looked exactly like me.

"Blame your uncanny resemblance to the 280th descendant of Brynlee Robles, a legendary beauty from the ancient era," he said.

What?

"Billionaire or lifelong pauper-your choice."

I...

After 18 hours of relentless questioning, Taylor finally explained everything.

A week ago, we were still mortal enemies, locked in a bitter rivalry.

On what seemed like an utterly ordinary night, just like any other when Taylor drank himself senseless as part of his job entertaining clients, something extraordinary happened.

He was carried by several people into a luxurious villa. When he woke up the next morning, a group of excited Arab men surrounded him, claiming he was the long-lost son of their sheikh.

I scrutinized Taylor from head to toe. Where on earth did he have even a trace of foreign genes?

Taylor waved me off, telling me not to interrupt and to let him finish recounting his bizarre tale.

He said he was completely dumbfounded at the time and immediately protested, "I already have a dad! A real dad!"

But the men, armed with several reports, solemnly informed him that they had been tracking and studying him for a long time. They had even extracted DNA from his hair for testing.

The results? Undeniable proof-he was indeed the sheikh's biological son!

But Taylor's face was unmistakably that of a typical local look from his hometown!

Then, the men produced a thick stack of documents, explicitly stating that as long as Taylor acknowledged his heritage, all of it-an unimaginable fortune-would be his.

Taylor stared at the wealth that could rival nations and immediately suspected it was a scam. He went to various institutions to verify the documents, only to discover that they were all authentic.

Taylor was stunned. What was going on?

The men continued to persuade him, presenting numerous examples to explain how genetic mutations or traits skipping generations could lead to such outcomes.

Coincidentally, Taylor had been raised by a single mother.

Whenever his mother mentioned his father, who had disappeared before Taylor was even born, she would grit her teeth in anger and forbid anyone from bringing him up.

Could it be true? Could he really be the sheikh's illegitimate son?

Even if they were mistaken, wouldn't the inheritance and wealth still be worth it?

Taylor thought it over. Since he couldn't find his real father anyway, why not just go along with it?

This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to strike it rich!

I tried to hide my envy but couldn't help despising Taylor.

He looked smug, basking in his newfound fortune.

"See?" he said, puffing out his chest. "The chairman's position in this group company is my dad's welcome gift to me!"

With a dramatic flourish, Taylor ripped down the previous chairman's portrait from the wall and tossed it into the trash can.

"At first, I thought I'd just take the money and disappear, leaving you petty, narrow-minded commoners behind. But then..."

He paused, pulling out a photo and pointing to a face that looked eerily like mine. "But then I saw you. You look just like Brynlee Robles. The leader of my Alayuton family, is a die-hard fan of her!

Taylor exclaimed, lifting my face to examine it closely.

"He even commissioned a simulation to predict what her 280th-generation descendant would look like. And guess what? You're the spitting image!"

"So why do we have to get married?" I still didn't understand.

"Because I value our bond!" Taylor declared. "After all, we've been rivals for so many years. How could I leave you out of such a lucrative opportunity?"

Taylor lied, clearly.

"Cut that crap. What's your real motive?" I pressed.

Seeing that he couldn't fool me, Taylor finally confessed.

"My dad said that if I marry Brynlee's 280th-generation descendant, I'll get half of the Alayuton family fortune!"

When I didn't react, Taylor quickly added, "Do you even know how much the Alayuton family is worth? Enough to buy at least ten of your hometowns!"

He held up ten fingers in front of me, his excitement palpable.

The imagery was vivid, and I couldn't help but calculate.

"So if I marry you, I'll get two and a half hometowns? That's like owning the equivalent of two and a half cities?"

Taylor looked both exasperated and thrilled.

"Sophia, you're so greedy! You want to split it fifty-fifty right off the bat?"

"What else? ...Should I just leave then?"

I teased, pretending to stand up. Taylor immediately pushed me back down.

Only a fool would let this opportunity slip away!

Still, the whole thing seemed too far-fetched.

But knowing Taylor-so stingy he'd stretch a single burger across three meals-there was no way he'd go to such lengths just to prank me.

I decided to investigate.

For three whole days, I researched the Alayuton family, made countless international calls, and even enlisted the help of various UN embassies to verify the claims. To my astonishment, everything checked out.

The Alayuton family was real, and the story was real. Public records and media reports confirmed that Faisal, the patriarch of the Alayuton family, was indeed a devoted fan of Brynlee Robles. He had even built a palace for Brynlee Robles in Draxoria and spent years collecting artifacts related to her.

Most notably, he had publicly offered a billion-dollar reward for anyone who could locate her direct descendants.

I remembered reading about this sensational news years ago and laughing it off as a joke.

But with such a hefty reward on the line, it was no surprise that both brave souls and con artists had come forward.

Though the old patriarch had likely been scammed out of billions, it was mere pocket change for his vast empire.

He remained undeterred, continuing his search with unwavering passion.

The more I learned, the more moved I became. To think there was someone in this world so steadfast and true to their ideals!

"This fortune must be claimed-it's practically destiny!" I cried, hugging Taylor with tears of newfound camaraderie.

"Honey, let's go get our marriage certificate first thing tomorrow!"

"Sure thing. Dad's flying in this afternoon!"

The next morning, before the sun had fully risen and the dew still clung to the petals, I dragged Taylor to the marriage registry office three hours before it opened, beaming with excitement.

"Do you have to be first in line for everything?" Taylor grumbled, yawning and bleary-eyed.

I smacked him on the head with our freshly issued marriage certificate.

"Not eager to make money? Something must be wrong with you! Now let's go meet Dad!"

To make a good impression on my future father-in-law, I had been practicing all night -perfecting my tone, my smile, everything.

He was here. When the car pulled up, my heart raced.

I was just one step away from my two-and-a-half cities.

But to my utter shock, the person who stepped out was Winton Kain.

My ex-boyfriend.

He thought I wouldn't recognize him just because he was wearing a traditional Arab robe, oversized round glasses, and a neatly groomed goatee?

This con artist-I'd recognize him even if he turned to ash.

But I had bigger fish to fry.

I shoved him aside, eagerly looking for the real patriarch.

To my horror, Taylor was helping Winton out of the car, warmly calling him, "Dad!"

What was going on? I was about to explode.

Taylor shook me gently.

"What are you standing there for? This is our father, you've been dreaming of meeting!"

Winton looked at me calmly, his familiar sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Go on, call Dad!"

Taylor urged.

My mind went blank for three seconds before I snapped back to reality and screamed, "Winton, you lying scumbag! You conned me out of my house, my money, all my stocks and funds-so much that I couldn't even afford sanitary pads!

Pay me back! Now! Immediately!"

The scene was chaotic, like a lioness roaring in fury. Even the bodyguards struggled to hold me back.

Winton, my greatest humiliation.

I had fallen for his smooth-talking lies, only to be left penniless when he vanished overnight with everything I owned.

I regretted it so much.

"Winton, I don't believe a single word you say, not even your punctuation marks! You're the biggest liar in the world!"

Taylor handed me ice packs and cold water while instructing the staff to lower the air conditioning.

But I was still fuming, burning with rage.

"My dear, what will it take for you to calm down?" Taylor pleaded.

"Pay me back! No negotiations!"

I was convinced this was a huge, outrageous scam. At this point, I'd given up on my "cities". All I cared about now was getting my money back, and that was the only thing that mattered.

To my surprise, Winton gestured to a handsome man, and the man then brought over a suitcase.

When the suitcase was opened, it was filled with stacks of crisp dollar bills.

The sight of the money silenced me.

The scene was straight out of a TV drama.

I couldn't lose my composure. I had to stay dignified.

"I want to verify the bills!" I spent the entire night meticulously inspecting the money.

I had been burned by Winton before and wasn't about to let it happen again.

I checked all the cash, one bill at a time. I didn't miss a single bill.

What I once fantasized had come true. By dawn, my hands were cramping from counting.

Thick-skinned, I approached Winton to negotiate. "The extra money can be considered interest and compensation for emotional damages."