¿cómo Soy Tan Rico? Novels & Stories

"Hmmm." "I won't deny, love, that those who possess a huge amount of money are not rude and selfish, but you see like every finger is not same, just like that, not every other rich person is." she looked at all her fingers one by one examining whether they are same or different from one another. After she was satisfied, raised her head looked at me grinning and said, "And you are the best richest person I have ever met." As if everyone gets to meet a lot of rich people daily.

“What do you mean?” What do I mean? She sees herself in the mirror right? “You look rich. You eat at an exclusive table, drive a very, very expensive car. Your car is even more expensive than my mum’s car, so why would you need a job from my mum?” Sarah blinked twice, probably nonplussed by my confrontational stance, but my mind was going a million miles a second.

He reasons, making me laugh. “He is kinda crazy like this always and he is like this with everyone. Being a busy and successful businessman isn't an easy task, you see.” His mouth wides, “Is he crazy rich?” He asks as he takes a seat in front of me on the bed. “Yeah, he is. I also looked like a guppy fish like you when I truly realized how filthy rich he really is.” He closes his mouth as soon as those words leave my mouth. “He can take a bath and clean his shit with gold infused water for the rest of his life and he will still have enough wealth to last him a century.” I exaggerate to make it extra dramatic. Not that I'm far from reality.

she said. “What? This isn’t about his money, Sophia.” I told her. I was actually offended because she believed I was some gold-digging whore. “So, you are telling me you don’t like the fact that he is rich?” she asked. Why did I feel like that’s a trick question? “I like Javier, money or not. So, what if he is rich? He is still my Javier. It is not my fault that he comes with a billion dollars' net worth,” I said casually.

meeting. -We come home Nicolas. I don't really have the mind to hang out with these rich kids talking to them about things they won't be able to understand. -Excuse me sir but you forget that you are as rich as them and even more than them! -Just Nicolas! I am rich. They are rich kids. There is a difference in the fact that I earned the money with my own hands while they inherit those from their parents. -I understand sir but it surprises me that between rich you sometimes denigrate yourself.

You are extraordinary so who can give a man like you a company? "I know you are the mysterious tycoon who wasted millions of dollars on just jewelry even though you didn't tell me. The money you wasted that night is way above the net worth of this company so how then can it be that someone gave the company to you?" "I'm not asking if you truly own the company, as my mind suggests. I just want to hear it from your lips that you own this company, Master. I've waited so long to hear you say it. I hope I'm not asking much."

"What the hell are you doing carrying around this much money?" I couldn't tear my eyes away from the bag. There had to be thousands in there. "Where did you even get this?" "Aww, what a weird question to ask someone as rich as me, princess." He brushed off an invisible speck of lint from his sleeve. "That's pocket change in my world." My eyes narrowed. Pompous, spoiled brat. "Oh I'm sorry, I forgot who I was talking to for a second there. Of course Trent the Rich Boy carries around sackfuls of money all the time." I punctuated my words with an epic eye roll.

I replied, curtly. I couldn't even tell why I was hurt by her words. I never truly cared whatever someone thought of me. It took another minute before she said something else. “You're a millionaire, aren't you?” She asked, I poured my coffee into my cup. “Not exactly, why do you ask?” “But you do have like extremely rich parents, don't you?” She probed further, I turned to her. “Is there a reason you're so interested in my family's financial status?”

Each one seemed worse than the last. I could feel his eyes on me as I ate, studying my face like he was trying to read my thoughts. When I finally finished the last spoonful and set the bowl aside, I decided to try a different approach. "Can I ask you something else?" I said, settling back against the soft cushions of the sofa. He raised an eyebrow. "You can ask. I can't promise I'll answer." "How rich are you exactly?" The question tumbled out before I could stop it, and I felt heat creep up my neck. "I mean, this place, the apartment, the cars, the way people treat you... How deep does this really go?"

I just happened to meet someone with that description: rich, yet also an asshole. “Give me a better answer, Kate. Something that I can do easily.” “Being rich isn’t an easy thing in the first place, hun. But, I bet it had to do with look. You need to look … you, know. Rich. Wear a luxury brand from head to toe. Learn some table manners and read a business book or something. Don’t rich people like to talk about business all the time?” I wasn’t sure I could do that in a short period of time. Even if I was quite confident with my ability to learn and remember new things, play pretend still wasn’t my forte.