Is 'HOW MUCH DOES IT COST?' Worth Reading?

​“One night, one price. After that, you are mine until the debt is paid.” ​Ava Williams was the “No-Extras” girl at the Velvet Room Spa...until the $180,000 bill for her grandmother’s life-saving surgery landed on her desk. Desperate and out of options, she walks into the lion’s den: the penthouse of Nico Jordan. ​Nico is the city’s most ruthless billionaire, a man with a heart of stone and a back covered in scars he allows no one to see. Their first meeting ended with Ava’s hand across his face and a fire in her eyes that Nico hasn’t been able to forget. He doesn’t want her apology. He wants a contract. ​ The Rules are simple: ​She lives in his home. ​She obeys his commands. ​She must never fall in love. ​But as the "contract" unfolds, the cold transaction turns into a burning obsession. Ava discovers that the dominant man who "bought" her is the same broken boy she saved from a horrific fire years ago. Just as she begins to see the man behind the monster, the billionaire's elite world conspires to tear her down. ​Between a jealous socialite ex-fiancée determined to humiliate the "spa girl" and the sudden return of Ava’s first love…now a wealthy rival out for Nico’s blood. Ava is caught in a web of betrayal. ​But Nico Jordan and his enemies have made one fatal mistake: they think Ava is just a pawn. They don’t know about the secret bloodline running through her veins or the inheritance that is about to make her the most powerful woman in New York. ​He bought her for a night. He’ll have to crawl to keep her for a lifetime. WARNING!!! FOR MATURE READERS ONLY.

Peter Crowley finds out that it's been three days since I last lodged a purchase request from him. Thinking that I've finally learned how to become a good wife, he decides to text me as a form of reward. "I've already restored your adoptive mother's treatment privileges. You should be more docile from now on. Don't keep lying just to ask for more money from me. "I know that it's tough, being from the bottom rung of the society and all, but I'm not a gullible idiot, you know." What Peter doesn't know is that I've already finished drafting a divorce agreement by the time I receive his text. Before leaving the manor, the only thing I can take with me is the white T-shirt and the jeans I wore when I first married into this family. No one will ever believe that I, the glamorous and radiant Mrs. Crowley, don't have enough decent clothes to take up an entire closet. Every cent meant for any private expenses needs to go through a corporate approval system. All of the fancy clothes and jewelry are locked up in a safe, too. If I ever need money, I'll have to submit a request to Peter's secretary, Cara Harden. This is all because Peter looks down on my background. He thinks that I'll somehow develop a bad habit of spending money excessively just because I've married rich. But three days ago, my adoptive mother was in critical condition. I quickly put in a request for 200 thousand dollars for her surgical bills, only for Cara to drag out the approval system's procession. In the end, my adoptive mother died in the hospital. Peter has no idea that the only reason why I can tolerate his behavior for so many years is for the sake of the medical resources that can cure my adoptive mother. Now that my adoptive mother is dead, there's no need for me to continue staying in this marriage.

Chelsea Fischer's childhood sweetheart, Patrick Goldstein, loves fighting with me over everything. After I get reborn, I realize that I can never win against Patrick. So, I decide to attach price tags to everything I own. Since Patrick loves taking over Chelsea's front passenger seat under the guise of getting carsick easily, I slap a price tag onto the front passenger seat immediately. "That'll be 100 thousand dollars per year. If you decide to continue the subscription, you'll get a 20% discount." Patrick has his eye on my project proposal. As soon as Chelsea knocks on my office door, I say to her without even looking up, "Wire me 500 thousand dollars, and I'll change the project lead's name to Patrick's as soon as I receive the money." On the day of my daughter Callista Hammond's birthday, I reschedule all of my work matters so that I can hurry over to the kindergarten to pick her up. But Callista tells her teacher, "He's not my dad. I'm not leaving with him." While we're stuck in a stalemate, Patrick arrives at the kindergarten with the gift I've prepared for Callista. That's when Callista rushes over to hug his leg. "Take a good look, miss! This is my actual dad!" Chelsea is about to provide an explanation to me when I extend a hand to Callista. "Give me five million dollars, and I'll make sure that he gets your custody by the end of today."

After ten years studying interior design overseas, I came back to my hometown to do work that mattered to the people who raised me. I offered the full package, from site survey to soft furnishings. The materials were chosen by hand. The price was fair to the bone. The town had just gone through a redevelopment. Everyone was getting new units. With the new family policy, every family wanted a third bedroom too. My business was good. Customers from the next county were driving in. Then a girl just back from a city college kicked open my studio with her phone on a livestream and her neighbors at her shoulder. "This is the dishonest one. Look at her. She has been ripping the village off." "In the city, an eighty-square-meter unit can be done for twenty thousand dollars. She is charging eighty." "That's a sixty-thousand-dollar margin. Sixty thousand. Right out of our pockets." The village fell in line behind her. They demanded the difference back. When I refused, they smashed my studio. They beat me into a coma. The pile-on online killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I would refund every single one of them. And then I would tear out every single thing I had installed. Let's see what twenty thousand dollars actually buys you.

Isla Bennett survives on poverty math and a meagre $14.22 bank balance until Gabriel Hunt, the ruthless, intelligent CEO known as The Debt Collector, acquires her $250,847.36 inheritance debt and forces her into a clinical, eighteen-month contract marriage. Told through an alternating first-person POV, this dark romance and financial thriller exposes the cold utility assessment behind a billionaire’s search for an asset chosen specifically for maximum compliance. In a world where finance is a weapon and boardrooms are battlefields, Isla is dragged into a thirty-year revenge plot against the Black Swan, a price-fixing syndicate that murdered her father in 1988. As Gabriel deploys mafia-style tactical teams and extraction protocols to protect his interests, Isla begins a weak-to-strong transformation. She evolves from a waitress who feels like breathing, walking furniture, into an interim CEO capable of executing the hostile absorption of forty-seven companies to dismantle her enemies. Behind the silk dresses and staged performances of a perfect couple lies a lethal game of medical hostage taking and manufactured stress tests designed to prove whether she is Option Zero, the only variable that will not break. From the glass towers of Manhattan to the remote Morrison Estate, the bought variable must choose between the $4.7 billion profit of a ghost and her own sovereignty.

While inspecting the hotel owned by my family, I start to feel hungry after ordering some food at the hotel restaurant. Before the food is served, I munch on a small piece of bread roll for the time being. Suddenly, the lobby manager comes up to me and hands me a piece of paper. "Hello, sir. We do not allow outside food here. It has been 8 minutes and 30 seconds since you entered our restaurant. The total cost of your meal is 1,500 dollars. You'll be fined 1.28 million dollars." I am briefly stunned as I look at the piece of paper detailing the amount I should pay. Then, I take a picture of the piece of paper and send it to the group chat that has all the members of the board of directors. I tag my elder sister in the next message I send. "I've received a fine at the hotel owned by my family. Is this how you've increased the hotel's revenue?"