Author Of Rich Man Poor Man Novels & Stories

“I know it’s a bit stressful for you but you have to understand that—” “Don’t give me that crap!” he interrupted yet again. “I need my money before this week runs out, do you hear me?” He sounded like he was about to explode and I understood him quite well but there was no amount of shouting that would generate the money he was asking for. And I wasn’t even moved by his tone. I have heard far worse from the other people I owed. Mr. Henry used to be a very good friend of mine who used to give me all sorts of advice on how to live my life and manage my company. In fact, he knew Victoria and I had an affair going on and he was in full support.

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.

“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!”

Because the demands of work make me look cruel, powerful and even stay up all night to create reports, don't let my guard down, the company can change hands the next day. Poor people always complain about their life and ridicule if rich people are spoiled for nothing, even though if seen by rich people, people who struggle the most don't give up easily. They could lose billions of dollars overnight, not like poor people who only lost $10 but complained like they lost half their lives. In my opinion, poor people are spoiled. They do not like to try and always hope for others, only raising their hands. Shame on you!

"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.

"Aimee, have you lost your mind? Do you even know how many women would do anything just for a glance from me, and here you are, talking about divorce!" Isaiah scoffed at my so-called ignorance, but I only pitied him for not understanding love—true love did not hinge on wealth or status. I replied, "Isaiah, I would rather you be that broke man drowning in debt than the lying billionaire you turned out to be. I did love you, but that version of you was a lie—a character you created, not the real you." Isaiah sneered, unwilling to believe me. "Aimee, drop the act. You should be honored that I chose you out of all the women I could've picked."

" 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.

There was an effortless elegance to him that made ordinary people immediately aware of the difference between them. Even standing there doing absolutely nothing, Victor looked expensive andnd that made the man feel annoyed. He had always wanted to be rich but couldn't. No matter what he did, he was born poor and would die poor. Unlike Victor who was born rich and would likely die surrounded by that same inherited wealth. Men like him never had to struggle. They never had to worry about food, about rent, about surviving another winter.