Author Of Rich Man Poor Man Novels & Stories

Priscilla shouted hysterically. "Which part of you looks rich? You are uneducated, out of shape, and look like a common thug! How dare you act like you are rich?" "Do people write how much money they have on their face? What a joke! It's not like I need to look good to be rich," the man said in contempt.

Once the man heard that, he immediately nodded and said, “I’m not bad you know, I just want the most unique, so just give me the best.” The clerk is used to seeing such rich people and just laughed: “You can rest assured about this, sir, the styles we have here are absolutely unique and guaranteed not to clash with anyone.”

He stood before the expectant crowd, giving me a smile that I instantly returned. He held a champagne glass in his hands, and suppressing the urge to burst into tears, he took a long sip of the liquid, controlling his emotions with it. "Sometimes when I see them, I think destiny exists, because believe me when I say that it never crossed my mind that because of a simple robbery, you two would one day marry and start a home," muttered the dark-haired man without taking his eyes off us, bringing to our minds that moment years ago when by chance, we ended up living together in my old apartment. "And I truly feel proud to have done it because otherwise, neither I nor any of you could be here sta

“I was thinking about something my mother told me when I was a child.” He opened his eyes, and a gentle smile formed on his full lips. “What did she tell you?” “She said that you can either have wealth or love. It can never be both. I think it was her way of explaining why we used to be poor. Except she didn't give me her love either.” A wry smile appeared, and Darren instantly leaned closer, kissing me as if he tried to take away all the bad memories. I corrected my smile then. “I just think I'm exceptionally lucky.”

He didn't say a word but kept on staring at me and began to sniff. I stood him chest to chest and said, “oh, are you going to stand there and say nothing? You don’t have anything to say right?” I asked. “I have said my mind” he completed. I shook my head and said, “the rich do whatever they want, and they do not care about the consequences of it on the poor” “so hilarious” I added. “That’s because the poor doesn't have what the rich ones have and it will take ages, centuries and even their generation to make it” he spilled out.

It was Marina and Harper again. I was dressed casually today in just a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Marina scrutinized me with those judgmental eyes of hers. Honestly, LV was not a problem for me. I just did not like spending that much money all at once. “Please stop talking. My family’s poor, and my parents don’t make a lot of money. They only teach me manners, unlike your parents, who work all the time so you can buy LV.

What's the first thing you'd do if you were reborn? Me? I'd start by divorcing my husband, Finn Gallagher. Yeah, Finn Gallagher, the same man who runs half the underworld from behind closed doors. The Don. The richest man alive. The man women dream about; his face plastered on magazines, named "Sexiest Man Alive" five years in a row. In my last life, I tried everything to make him look at me like I mattered. I married him. I gave birth to his son. I swallowed every ounce of pride, trying to be the perfect wife.

When I saw Austin Hart again five years after my rebirth, I was momentarily lost in a daze and instinctively stepped aside. He had Stacy Deleon by the hand on one side and our eight-year-old son Clifford Hart by the other. As people at the venue noticed them, they flocked to offer compliments. No longer the reckless young man he used to be, he handled it all with practiced ease. "Mr. Hart, as the wealthiest person in Avenir now, your prospects are truly boundless. Becoming the richest person in the nation is surely just around the corner!"

I muttered under my breath, my fist clenching clutching onto the fabric of my cheap chiffon dress as I stared at the picture again. He was indeed curled up in the arms of another woman while I was being forced to make a hard decision. Why did I think that a wealthy billionaire like him would choose a poor woman like me with nothing to her name? He’d promised me a lifetime of love, peace and happiness with him, but instead, he inflicted me with pain and despondence. How was I to take care of this child on my own?

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.