Author Of Rich Man Poor Man Novels & Stories

The only interaction they had was when he walked past me and placed the plate of grilled ribs in front of Grace. It was his best dish. Back then, we interviewed a dozen nannies of various ages and genders. Not only did he know how to make Grace’s favorite grilled ribs, but he also knew how to make my son’s and my favorite pasta dish. He claimed to be from the countryside with little education. He was four years younger than me and was a single father with a daughter. I felt sorry for him. Besides, he was asking only half the going rate for a nanny, so I hired him without any hesitation.

It was an amount I wouldn't have even dared to dream of before, yet I couldn't bring myself to spend it. Every time I went to the cafeteria, I still habitually ordered the cheapest dishes. Every time I walked past a coffee shop, I still hesitated. My classmates all teased me, "Nicolette, you're a trust fund kid, and you're still this frugal. How are we ordinary citizens who spend money like water supposed to face ourselves?" I smiled when I heard those words. This life of absolute abundance, where I never had to worry about food or clothes, was exactly what I dreamed of as a child. Yet, for some reason, now that I finally had it all, I didn't feel a single shred of happiness.

My boyfriend's childhood friend had set her sights on the one keepsake my mother left me. She wheedled and needled at me for weeks, but I never gave in. A few months later, my boyfriend came to me again, saying his business had failed and left him buried in loan-shark debt. He said that if he couldn't pay it back, the collectors would cut off his limbs. To help him settle it, I handed over every cent I'd saved, even my mother's bracelet. That same night, while I was working at the club, I overheard a conversation in one of the private booths. "Eric, if it weren't for Donna's idea to have the rest of us play loan sharks and put on this whole act with you, there's no way your girlfriend

“Little Boy, are you three years old? How can you be so naїve? This world is all about money. Money can practically do everything and it represents strength! “The rich are superior to the poor! Only poor bastards like you would say something like that—cowardly dogs barking but too afraid to bite! Laughable!”

Yeah, I was a mess. One suitcase is complete. I also have to put my shoes and bags in different suitcases. Edmund just stood and looked at the cramped apartment I rented. "Be rich, so you don't have trouble and don't commit crimes. Poor people are more likely to commit crimes, pickpockets, robbery, get drunk on dark streets, carry firearms with no purpose." "Even the rich are more criminals. Look at the mafia." "They play pretty, won't get caught and tidy. Poor people are very reckless." I keep putting all my needs in my suitcase, and it seems like I need three bags for this.

"I guess the grass isn't always greener on the other side, huh?" He flashed me a knowing smile. "Exactly. It's easy to romanticize the idea of being rich, but the reality is far more complex.” “Okay, but I’d still choose pressure over poverty, any day,” I concluded. Dear Reader, the debate of rich people problems versus poor people problems has existed since the beginning of life itself. Back then, I was dirt poor and now I’m a trillionaire. Nobody but me can discuss the problems both classes face. Let’s dive in, shall we?

Maybe that was the thing that was really meant for me. I sit on the rocking chair inside my spacious bedroom while reading a book. Maybe the life of a poor person was more exciting than the life of a wealthy one. It might be the same with the stories about those poor people who worked hard to become rich. They studied hard, did part-time jobs to maintain themselves in school and also help their families. Until someday, they'd become rich and live happily ever after.

" Upon hearing that, I clenched my jaw, anger simmering just beneath the surface. I couldn't believe that all of my hard-earned money had been wasted on him just like that! Kevin grew even more triggered when he caught the cold fury in my eyes. He flew into a rage as he spat, "Did you think that someone would suddenly barge in and save you, you little mongrel? "Only poor, dirty rats like you would believe in rags-to-riches fairytales. Don't you love acting pitiful? I'm going to give you something to actually be pitiful about!" He then raised the hammer in the air once more, aiming for my good leg next.

The old nanny asked. "In that room where my mom was always there," Justin said. "Okay…" the nanny said and sighed. "Your father was the kind of person who would say this to me, there was no difference between one who was in debt and one who was too rich," the old nanny said. "What does that mean?" Justin asked. "One day, he said to me, what are the similarities between a very rich man and a poor man?" The old nanny asked. "What is it?" Justin asked.

Rich men always deserved it. Men born with silver spoons in their mouths deserved to be dragged down from their lofty towers every once in a while. The man himself had spent his entire life struggling. He was born poor and would likely die poor. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he saved, the world had never once rewarded him for his efforts.