Figure It Out.

Hugo pulled up to Sanchez's massive, insanely luxurious mansion and immediately felt poor. Again.

The massive gates swung open like he was entering the home of a billionaire drug lord, and the long-ass driveway had more flowers than his mother's garden of 15 years.

And of course, the final boss was the sleek, green lambo truck parked up front.

This was the power of Sanchez. This was the power of money!

Hugo parked his own Benz between two pillars and sighed deeply. One day… one day, he too would live like this.

But first, he had to solve the ridiculous problem his evil system had thrown at him.

With a determined heart, he marched to the front door and rang the bell like a debt collector.

DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG!

A few seconds later, a grumpy voice came from the intercom.

"Who the hell—"

"It's me, Hugo! Open up, man!"

There was a long sigh before the door clicked open.