Claudette
5 Published Stories
Claudette's Books and Stories
Mighty Super-rich Heir
Modern Ever since I was a child, I had always been poor. Every time I came home from school, I would be met with the sight of my father busying himself in the kitchen.
From my earliest recollection, I would always remember my father wearing his old factory uniforms in the house. His hair was snow-white and he had very dark skin. He would usually smoke cheap cigarettes and the car he drove around was a Santana which was a real wreck.
Despite all our hardships, my father threw himself into his work for 18 years and raised me to his best abilities, and I ended up not disappointing him as I managed to get into a very good university.
Because I came from poverty, I had to work a part-time job in order to pay the high tuition fees. I knew my classmates must’ve looked down on me because I was so poor, but I did my best to not let that bother me.
On the day of my 18th birthday, my father announced that he was going to give me a birthday present and that he would bring it to me in person.
That day I saw my father in a new light.
My father’s coarse snow-white head had turned shiny black. He had replaced his tattered clothes with expensive Givenchy suits, and he even wore a Patek Philippe watch around his wrist. The old Santana was now a limited edition Rolls Royce.
I stared at my father with bewildered eyes and asked him in an incredulous voice, “Dad, is our family really the richest in the world right now?”
My father took out a Mayan Sicars cigar worth $500,000, lit it, and blew out a smoke ring. “Son, I know you’ve suffered a lot for the past 18 years, and I feel ashamed that I couldn’t have provided more for you. I want you to take this ten million as pocket money first. You can ask me for more later if it’s not enough!” The Glorious Life Of Mr. Smith
Modern Ever since I was a child, I had always been poor. Every time I came home from school, I would be met with the sight of my father busying himself in the kitchen.
From my earliest recollection, I would always remember my father wearing his old factory uniforms in the house. His hair was snow-white and he had very dark skin. He would usually smoke cheap cigarettes and the car he drove around was a Santana which was a real wreck.
Despite all our hardships, my father threw himself into his work for 18 years and raised me to his best abilities, and I ended up not disappointing him as I managed to get into a very good university.
Because I came from poverty, I had to work a part-time job in order to pay the high tuition fees. I knew my classmates must’ve looked down on me because I was so poor, but I did my best to not let that bother me.
On the day of my 18th birthday, my father announced that he was going to give me a birthday present and that he would bring it to me in person.
That day I saw my father in a new light.
My father’s coarse snow-white head had turned shiny black. He had replaced his tattered clothes with expensive Givenchy suits, and he even wore a Patek Philippe watch around his wrist. The old Santana was now a limited edition Rolls Royce.
I stared at my father with bewildered eyes and asked him in an incredulous voice, “Dad, is our family really the richest in the world right now?”
My father took out a Mayan Sicars cigar worth $500,000, lit it, and blew out a smoke ring. “Son, I know you’ve suffered a lot for the past 18 years, and I feel ashamed that I couldn’t have provided more for you. I want you to take this ten million as pocket money first. You can ask me for more later if it’s not enough!” Mighty Garry Smith's Love Story
Modern Ever since I was a child, I had always been poor. Every time I came home from school, I would be met with the sight of my father busying himself in the kitchen.
From my earliest recollection, I would always remember my father wearing his old factory uniforms in the house. His hair was snow-white and he had very dark skin. He would usually smoke cheap cigarettes and the car he drove around was a Santana which was a real wreck.
Despite all our hardships, my father threw himself into his work for 18 years and raised me to his best abilities, and I ended up not disappointing him as I managed to get into a very good university.
Because I came from poverty, I had to work a part-time job in order to pay the high tuition fees. I knew my classmates must’ve looked down on me because I was so poor, but I did my best to not let that bother me.
On the day of my 18th birthday, my father announced that he was going to give me a birthday present and that he would bring it to me in person.
That day I saw my father in a new light.
My father’s coarse snow-white head had turned shiny black. He had replaced his tattered clothes with expensive Givenchy suits, and he even wore a Patek Philippe watch around his wrist. The old Santana was now a limited edition Rolls Royce.
I stared at my father with bewildered eyes and asked him in an incredulous voice, “Dad, is our family really the richest in the world right now?”
My father took out a Mayan Sicars cigar worth $500,000, lit it, and blew out a smoke ring. “Son, I know you’ve suffered a lot for the past 18 years, and I feel ashamed that I couldn’t have provided more for you. I want you to take this ten million as pocket money first. You can ask me for more later if it’s not enough!” Penniless Or Peerless: How Garry Smith Strikes Back
Modern Ever since I was a child, I had always been poor. Every time I came home from school, I would be met with the sight of my father busying himself in the kitchen.
From my earliest recollection, I would always remember my father wearing his old factory uniforms in the house. His hair was snow-white and he had very dark skin. He would usually smoke cheap cigarettes and the car he drove around was a Santana which was a real wreck.
Despite all our hardships, my father threw himself into his work for 18 years and raised me to his best abilities, and I ended up not disappointing him as I managed to get into a very good university.
Because I came from poverty, I had to work a part-time job in order to pay the high tuition fees. I knew my classmates must’ve looked down on me because I was so poor, but I did my best to not let that bother me.
On the day of my 18th birthday, my father announced that he was going to give me a birthday present and that he would bring it to me in person.
That day I saw my father in a new light.
My father’s coarse snow-white head had turned shiny black. He had replaced his tattered clothes with expensive Givenchy suits, and he even wore a Patek Philippe watch around his wrist. The old Santana was now a limited edition Rolls Royce.
I stared at my father with bewildered eyes and asked him in an incredulous voice, “Dad, is our family really the richest in the world right now?”
My father took out a Mayan Sicars cigar worth $500,000, lit it, and blew out a smoke ring. “Son, I know you’ve suffered a lot for the past 18 years, and I feel ashamed that I couldn’t have provided more for you. I want you to take this ten million as pocket money first. You can ask me for more later if it’s not enough!” A Twist Of Fate: Heir To The World's Wealthiest Man
Modern Ever since I was a child, I had always been poor. Every time I came home from school, I would be met with the sight of my father busying himself in the kitchen.
From my earliest recollection, I would always remember my father wearing his old factory uniforms in the house. His hair was snow-white and he had very dark skin. He would usually smoke cheap cigarettes and the car he drove around was a Santana which was a real wreck.
Despite all our hardships, my father threw himself into his work for 18 years and raised me to his best abilities, and I ended up not disappointing him as I managed to get into a very good university.
Because I came from poverty, I had to work a part-time job in order to pay the high tuition fees. I knew my classmates must’ve looked down on me because I was so poor, but I did my best to not let that bother me.
On the day of my 18th birthday, my father announced that he was going to give me a birthday present and that he would bring it to me in person.
That day I saw my father in a new light.
My father’s coarse snow-white head had turned shiny black. He had replaced his tattered clothes with expensive Givenchy suits, and he even wore a Patek Philippe watch around his wrist. The old Santana was now a limited edition Rolls Royce.
I stared at my father with bewildered eyes and asked him in an incredulous voice, “Dad, is our family really the richest in the world right now?”
My father took out a Mayan Sicars cigar worth $500,000, lit it, and blew out a smoke ring. “Son, I know you’ve suffered a lot for the past 18 years, and I feel ashamed that I couldn’t have provided more for you. I want you to take this ten million as pocket money first. You can ask me for more later if it’s not enough!” You might like
Midas Protocol: Seducing My Rival's Wife
Breenda I sat in the freezing conference room, my knuckles white as I strangled a cheap plastic pen. Outside, Manhattan was weeping in the gray rain, but inside, the air was sterile and dead. I stared at the polished mahogany table, seeing the distorted reflection of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours—a man about to sign his own divorce papers.
Across from me, my wife Linda wouldn't even look at me. She was too busy drumming her fingers near a diamond ring that cost more than I had made in the last five years combined. Then the door swung open, and Simon Thorne walked in. The billionaire heir didn't say a word; he just walked behind Linda and placed a heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder, marking her as his.
"Let's wrap this up," Simon said, checking his Patek Philippe with the bored tone of a man ordering a coffee he didn't want. Linda finally looked through me like I was a ghost and told me to stop dragging this out. She whispered that I couldn't even afford myself anymore, a physical punch to the gut given I’d lost my job three weeks ago. After I signed, Simon flicked a business card at me, mockingly offering me a job as a doorman for minimum wage.
I walked out into the downpour, shivering in a suit I couldn't afford to dry clean. My phone vibrated with a text from my landlord: "Pack your things. Keys by tonight or I’m calling the cops." I stood on the corner of 5th Avenue with exactly $42.18 to my name, watching Simon kiss my wife through the glass wall of the penthouse. I was thirty, homeless, and drowning in a city of lions.
I wanted to roar until my throat bled, but I just stood there, a drowned rat in a world of predators. How could I have lost everything so fast? Why was the woman who promised to stay through "for poorer" now leaning into the arms of the man who just humiliated me?
Suddenly, my phone screen exploded with a blinding golden light. An app called the Midas Protocol installed itself, declaring poverty a disease and itself the cure. With one tap, a million dollars bypassed a federal hold and hit my account, and a "Nemesis Card" appeared in my digital inventory. I didn't hesitate. I typed Simon Thorne’s name into the vengeance algorithm and hit execute. The game had officially changed.