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That day, my parents and sister who were all working abroad suddenly told me that I was a second-generation rich with trillions of dollars in wealth!Gerald Crawford: I am a second-generation rich?

Bullied. Broke. Betrayed. 20-year-old Ethan Reyes is at rock bottom—until a mysterious A.I. system grants him unimaginable wealth and power. With the Trillionaire System, he’ll rise from a forgotten nobody to the richest man in the country. Those who mocked him will kneel. Those who betrayed him will pay. But as enemies emerge and loyalties are tested, Ethan learns that money isn’t everything—love, loyalty, and revenge are priceless.

Nicholas Hunt loves testing me a lot. When I just graduated from university, he tried to make me take on a five-million-dollar house mortgage. After I turned him down, Nicholas was quick to buy Yvonne Myers, the campus belle, a villa that was worth eight million dollars. It was even paid in full. As he held the property deed, he told me, "The truth is, I'm super rich. I've been pretending to be poor just so I can test your integrity. "It's a shame that you never passed my test. I'm very disappointed in you, Elizabeth. Let's break up." I just smiled at him casually. Then, I walked away without hesitation. What a coincidence. I'm the daughter of the richest man in the country. I, too, had been pretending to be poor. Four years later, we bump into each other at the Fortune List Summit. At that time, Nicholas has just squeezed into the top 50 rank. He walks into the venue with Yvonne clinging to his arm. It's then he notices me. I'm wearing plain-looking clothes without any jewelry adorning me, and I happen to be holding a child. Thinking that I'm a nanny, Nicholas begins mocking me. "Wow, you really went all out just to steal one more glance at me, huh? I can't believe you're able to follow me all the way here. "You should learn to accept reality, though. I'm on the Fortune List, while you're working as someone else's nanny. The gap between us is far too wide, so you should stop dreaming already!" I just ignore Nicholas in favor of resenting my dad for making me attend this stupid event. After all, I've just managed to block out one full day just to spend time with my son, and yet I have to waste my precious time on this dumb event.

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been crying about how poor we are. In order to put food on the table, I dare not apply for a prestigious university even though I'm more than capable of doing so. Instead, I work several jobs per day just to pay the bills, hoping to lighten the financial burden on my parents' shoulders. What I didn't expect is that my parents actually bought my younger brother, Randall Carter, a 500,000-dollar Ferrari behind my back! It turns out that my so-called impoverished parents are actually millionaires! The reason why they keep in the dark about their wealth is so that I don't fight with Randall over the family wealth! But they've completely forgotten that if it wasn't for me, Randall would've drained their accounts dry a long time ago!

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.