Is Smart Money Worth Reading For Financial Advice?

That day, my parents and sister who were all working abroad suddenly told me that I was a second-generation rich with trillions of dollars in wealth!Gerald Crawford: I am a second-generation rich?

The first time I meet Solana Charvet's childhood friend, Tyson Hatch, he claims that he's the best fraud buster ever. At the dining table, he keeps lecturing me. "Men shouldn't overdress, you know. If not for the fact that Solana actually told me that you're her boyfriend, I'd definitely group you up with the gigolos together." Solana keeps agreeing with everything Tyson says. "You're far too flashy when it comes to your fashion sense. Just listen to Tyson and change your habits, yeah?" I can't be bothered to listen to a word Tyson says, so I come up with an excuse to use the toilet. But on the way back, I hear Tyson giving Solana his verdict as a fraud buster. "Solana, Charles' posture and the way he speaks are all clear indicators that he's a fake heir who has undergone training. He intends to get close to you for your money, you know! "That watch he's wearing? And the sports car that's worth over a million dollars? How is it possible for a doctor like him to afford all these things?" Fury burns in my gut. I can no longer tolerate Tyson's nonsense, so I dial my mom's number right away. Right, have I mentioned that my mom's the richest woman in the country? "Mom, give me five million dollars right now. I want to buy an agency that specializes in fraud busting and teach a certain someone a lesson!"

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

After I resign from a private company and move to work at an overseas company, my salary has increased by leaps and bounds. My wife, Vivian Spencer, who's always been smart about money, suggests that I turn in all of my salary. At the same time, she will decrease my allowance. Her reasoning is that she needs to use my salary on our family's daily expenses, so she can't spare me a single cent. As I watch Vivian record all the expenses dutifully, I can't resist asking, "What about your salary, then?" Vivian replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm saving it up for our retirement pension." I don't bother responding afterward. Since then, I start spending every single cent of my salary, as per Vivian's suggestion. When Vivian notices the stream of packages being delivered to our home, she finally can't take it anymore. Upon hearing her question, I tell her happily, "You were the one who said that my salary is meant for our family's expenses!" Vivian exclaims in shock, "What sort of family do you think we are? As if we can afford to spend this much money every month!" What a joke. It turns out that Vivian knows that a regular family's expenses can't possibly drain every single cent of my salary in one go.

I turn down a dream research program at Hefford University just so I can stay and help my debt-ridden boyfriend run a burger stand. This time, he says he's serious. I give him all the money I've saved up over the years, hoping we can build a better future together. A few hours later, I discover he's forgotten two hundred dollars in the drawer. I grab the money and run out, hoping to catch him. What I catch is a scene straight out of a corny movie. The loan sharks who used to beat and threaten him are now bowing and nodding deferentially. "Sir, I guess we don't need to show up at your house anymore, right?" Kurt Saunders rubs his temples and replies, "Yup. Anna gave up her entire future for me. She even turned down an opportunity to study at Hefford just to help me pay off my debts." Before he even finishes, his childhood friend lets out a giggle. "Kurt, that's still not enough. You'll only know if she really doesn't mind being poor if she sticks around through a year of flipping burgers without any complaints." Kurt looks at her sly expression and lets out a helpless laugh. "Alright, we'll do it your way. One more year of pretending. Anna would never leave me anyway." I stand there, listening to the sound of my own heart shatter. Kurt, you think I'm giving up my future for you, but it's still mine, and I can take it back.