Richard looked totally lost, his handsome face clouded with confusion as he gently ruffled my hair.
“Who told you I’m broke? I run my own business, how could I be poor? I just didn’t want you to hate rich people.”
I was overwhelmed. My heart felt like it was about to burst, and for a second, I thought I might actually faint.
"Uncle Richard, who would ever hate rich people?!"
If I had money, like Ronald-level money, I wouldn’t be killing myself doing odd jobs to scrape by. I wouldn’t have had to bend over backward, humbling myself to squeeze out over two million for your surgery—negotiating with Ronald, dealing with my useless dad.
Hating money? Nah, I dream of waking up rich from a lottery win every day!
Richard stared at me, lips twitching like he wanted to say somethi
