Poor Man's Novels & Stories

Fifteen low-rent peasants, ready to rumble. Strange as it sounds, even in his obviously vulnerable state, Jon felt superior to them. He looked at the scum, most we’re in their late thirties and had done nothing with their lives, could do nothing, would never do anything. They could barely think. Give each one a million dollars and they would still be nothing but peasants in snazzy surroundings. Each would probably blow through it in a year. “Your papa give dinero. Lucky you. He pay today and we send you home. Comprende?”

Chapter 119 My daughter, first of all, I want to apologize sincerely to you for my awkward behavior towards you and your husband. May my interest is not to disturb you but rather to make you leave well in your old days. I have patiently listened to you and your Prince but there Is one thing that was running out in all his conversation. He doesn’t have a family he is just a street buy. He is a pauper someone who could not even afford to pay his school fees. He is an aimless and complete bastard.

Damn dude. Getting out of the room, I answered his cyclical question. “Because someday isn’t tomorrow nor even next year or next decades. Because I am planning to be and I am going to survive as I could be.” I’m poor not just broke, I haven’t tasted the most delicious food in our town, haven’t travel enough, or experience the best of life. So poverty won’t be enough to push me to grave. I will survive this, I will live.

Grace Anderson snatched her phone back and immediately locked it. I watched her reaction and said coldly, “Cloud Mansion’s under Ken Smith’s name, but the property management office sent the text message to you instead. “Do you want to explain that?” She slammed her phone against the table with the screen down and took a sip of water before saying, “I’m purchasing a property for my relative, and I wanted to use a discount that’s only available for the lower-income group, so I borrowed Ken’s ID for that. My relative left the country a while back, so he asked me to take care of it on his behalf.”

but you once said you can't live with poor man like me, but here you are In my house, and you don't know when you are leaving my house, and you don't know maybe this is your last bus stop" Mickel said, "That was then, but now, this Is my last bus stop, I don't think I will go out for three months because I know that you are capable of taking care of me" Naomi said, and he smiles, and she stood up and moves closer to Mickel and she kissed him but Mickel wasn't reciprocate, and he held her hands, and said, "babe, I'm poor, but this house Is mine, I bought this house with my money, but the day you call me a poor man, I wept, but I hold myself, you told me that, my house Is not a mansion, you po

Its clear that he isn't satisfied yet. Am done with this. Replied the woman getting her night gown from the floor. The man tried to smile as he stood up and hugged the woman from behind. Dear please you can't just leave me like this l need to reach there you know! He added pleadingly. Allan do you even hear yourself! The only thing you want to do is having sex with me day and night. Are you trying to make the saying that poor men spend long hours in bed than the rich true? Do you think that my hair, dresses, shoes and other things that l need will come to me by themselves with out you gaining money? The woman exploded. It was clear that she had enough of being poor.

The decisions he had made, the love he had given, all felt empty. Amidst the sad silence of the night, the corridor door creaked open. The light flooded the room and revealed an elderly man in a neat suit who appeared in the doorway. “Young master…” he said softly, a hint of concern in his voice. Sebastian stared at the old man, confused but feeling a new hope approaching. “Who… who are you?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and resignation. The man stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and approached with calm steps. “I am here to help you,” he replied in a calm voice. “I know you are in a very difficult position through all of this. But listen to me—there is still a way out.”

If I could go back and treat people better, I would. “That was the old me. The new Chloe loves the poor more than the rich. Do you know why? Because rich people are hypocrites. So, we’re friends now, whether in public or private. Just call me Chloe. You are not poor, you just need help, and that help you are going to get it from me. Not having money is not what being poor means. Someone without character is poor. Someone who hurts others is very poor. Someone who is lazy is poor. Someone who works hard and gets even little is not poor. Okay?”

the man confessed as tears streamed down his face. Chris felt bad when a middle aged man, almost the same age as his father was groveling at his feet like that. ‘If I didn’t work hard and made a fortune.. would this be my father?’ He thought to himself. Helping the man up, Chris shook his head. “Don’t kneel down in front of anyone no matter what. Being poor is not a crime. Like I said I will help you out with some cash and a job. But don’t resort to cheating when all hope is lost,” Chris said and looked at John.