Is Smart Money Worth Reading For Financial Advice?

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?

Jessie has been with her husband, Alan for five years and for the most part, their marriage has been perfect. That is, until Jessie notices her husband’s changes. Paired with the surprises she’s been receiving, Jessie is certain that her husband is hiding an affair with his mistress and she’s desperate to find out who this woman is and what her husband has been doing behind her back.

The first time I meet Solana Charvet's childhood friend, Tyson Hatch, he claims that he's the best fraud buster ever. At the dining table, he keeps lecturing me. "Men shouldn't overdress, you know. If not for the fact that Solana actually told me that you're her boyfriend, I'd definitely group you up with the gigolos together." Solana keeps agreeing with everything Tyson says. "You're far too flashy when it comes to your fashion sense. Just listen to Tyson and change your habits, yeah?" I can't be bothered to listen to a word Tyson says, so I come up with an excuse to use the toilet. But on the way back, I hear Tyson giving Solana his verdict as a fraud buster. "Solana, Charles' posture and the way he speaks are all clear indicators that he's a fake heir who has undergone training. He intends to get close to you for your money, you know! "That watch he's wearing? And the sports car that's worth over a million dollars? How is it possible for a doctor like him to afford all these things?" Fury burns in my gut. I can no longer tolerate Tyson's nonsense, so I dial my mom's number right away. Right, have I mentioned that my mom's the richest woman in the country? "Mom, give me five million dollars right now. I want to buy an agency that specializes in fraud busting and teach a certain someone a lesson!"

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.

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

After my wife, Shannon Stewart, suggests that we each support our own parents, I set up a million-dollar retirement fund for my dad. However, when I review this month's household expenses, I notice that every single payment is made for the father of Sean Gardner, her childhood friend. "Sean's family is struggling. Why wouldn't I help them out? It's not like it's a lot of money." Shannon brushes it off. There are 13 separate expenses of around 100 dollars each in a single month. Yet when my dad needs 300 for medical bills, she prints out the receipt and tells me to reimburse the household account. Tired of arguing, I toss the statement aside and head inside. Then my dad's condition suddenly worsens, and he's hospitalized again. I rush to the bank to withdraw money from the retirement fund. "Your father isn't the beneficiary of this fund," the bank employee states coldly. "Are you sure you have the right account?" My mind goes blank. How is that possible? Every cent in that account is my hard-earned cash. The employee impatiently turns the computer monitor toward me. The account name on the screen clearly reads, "James Gardner's Retirement Fund." James is Sean's dad.