My Asian Billionaire Ex-Husband

• November 6, 2015; • Sunday

Vera's POV

I applied red lipstick while brushing my curly, dark hair away from my freshly applied mascara. I rose up, looking down at my perfectly filed nails and checking the maids uneasily shuffling in the corner of the room.

My feet shine against the carpet as I exhale. As the maids and butlers came around me, I picked up the black luggage and pulled it behind me. The wheels and my heels, like the scattered shoes, echoed along the corridor.

When I saw a familiar portrait, I came to a halt and bit my bottom lips.

In the photo, we were standing next to one another, but there was a space between us. I was dressed in a huge white gown, one I'd always dreamed of wearing on my wedding day. He was the most gorgeous man in whatever room we were in, dressed in an immaculate black suit. My lips were smiling, but his were frowning.

I laugh and lift the frame. He made it clear that he didn't want to marry me.

That night, he didn't even touch me.

As I continued heading towards the front door, my hold on the white frame of what was meant to be the happiest day of my life tightened.

I was done.

I was done with everything.

The enormous empty mansion

The workers' sorrowful, miserable expressions

the sleepless nights.

The silent cries

And him.

I was done with him.

My soon-to-be ex-husband

When I walk into the enormous kitchen, the cooks stop what they're doing and stare at me. I threw the photo into the trash can while standing in front of it.

One of the chefs approaches me and says, "Madame."

I stop him from speaking more by waving my hand in the air. He lowered his head and took a step back as I wiped the tears from my bright cheeks.

I took another deep breath and shuffled through my suitcase, pulling out a sheet of paper, which caused everyone to gasp.

Sandy, the head maid, approached me, her sweaty hands clenched tightly together. "Please, Mrs.Thompson," she pleaded.

I shook my head and slapped the sheet of paper down on the counter. I bite my cheeks as my fingers grab for the diamond ring. I twisted the ring around and placed it on top of the divorce papers while swallowing my spit.

"Tell him to sign it and don't worry about it." I'm not taking any money." I took my luggage.

My legs, and everyone else's, come to a halt. Then something happened. My gaze was drawn to the wall clock.

10 seconds.

I move my gaze to the front door.

9

I take hold of the gold handle.

8

"Please, Mrs. Thompson!" Mr. Thompson will return shortly! I swear!"

7

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gently swayed her hands away.

6

I turn the knob.

5

Sandy kept crying while the other maids tried to console her, her sorrowful eyes looking everywhere but at me.

4

I took a step outside, carrying whatever I had with me a year ago.

3

The sun burned my swollen eyes.

2

I look for his car.

1

The clock struck twelve o'clock.

The clock had struck twelve.

Our one-year contract had come to an end.

He didn't show up, and I left without saying goodbye.

Vera's POV:

I met him on the first day of high school-the boy who would become my world for the following four years.

Growing up, I was a daddy's little princess, a silver spoon-fed girl. My family wasn't as rich as the majority of the kids at Pandora Academy, a school for future world leaders, but we were doing well for ourselves.

That was my first day out of homeschool, and I remembered it so well. Dad loved me so much, and he used to tell me how brutal the world is and that I shouldn't go out there until I'm ready.

He was correct.

On my first day of school, I understood that being a dark-skinned lady puts you in the minority. To get leverage, you had to achieve more than others your age. Otherwise, you'd be left out, or, should I say, isolated? I wasn't as wealthy or intelligent as the other ladies, but I was satisfied with where I was with my tiny circles of friends.

When Lilly grabbed my shirt, I nearly choked on my chicken nugget. "Oh, my God! "It's them!" she exclaimed.

I looked up as the IT CROWD walked in. The IT CROWD is made up of five of North America's wealthiest families. The group is made up of the five heirs.

They are intelligent, wealthy, and handsome.

"You're not there, are you?" I ask, looking up at the ceiling.

"You've got to stop blaming God for your laziness," Lilly pulls my shirt. You're the one who chose to watch MeTube instead of studying for the quiz last night."

I pout, my cheeks squeezing together. "I had no idea there was going to be a quiz." Who, after all, gives a surprise Tuesday pop quiz on a Friday? That should be considered a crime."

"No, wearing socks and sandals is a crime."

"What's wrong with socks and sandals?"

"Socks are meant to keep your feet warm," she explained. "It loses all meaning if you wear sandals!" It's like wearing a skirt all over again. I mean, is it a skirt or not? Is it a pair of shorts? "What in the hell is it?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong as long as they feel comfortable with it."

She laughed and said, "Hard to believe you came from a fashion family."

I shook my head, knowing she wouldn't reconsider. My attention is drawn back to the sins with legs.

First, there's Matthew Greyson, who's smack dab in the middle. For nearly three generations, the Greysons ruled the business world. Any product imports or exports in America must come into contact with the Greysons.

All the girls squeal with ecstasy as Matthew blinks, rushing his dark hair back and showing his icy blues. I have nothing against Matthew or any of the other people present, but he is the least trusted when it comes to relationships. You can't put your heart in his hands.

His favourite ice cream flavour goes up to him, fluttering her long lashes at him as he throws an arm around her. Matthew prefers girls who are tall, blonde, bodacious, and gorgeous. Matthew is a guy who changes more ladies than I eat, and I eat a lot.

Regardless of what others say, Matthew is a whore to me, not just a player.

Jackson Martinez, his best buddy, stood behind him. Matthew and Jackson have been friends since primary school. He blinks his lovely blues, infusing the air with a wonderful ambiance. He smiles and winks at the group of girls he passes, prompting two of the girls to faint.

The Martinez industry is named after its monopoly in the alcohol industry. Despite its name, it acts on substances other than alcohol. Many would argue that a party isn't complete without Martinez.

Mauricio Laghari stood behind him, arrogant, unpleasant, and shallow. He got everything. I couldn't help but scoff as he checked himself out through a window. If I were to describe Mauricio in one word, it would be narcissist.

Mauricio is a lover.

He adores himself more than anything else in this world.

The Laghari control the majority of the oil sector, importing oil from all over America. Not only that, but they are the founders of Laghari, one of the world's most expensive and exclusive car brands. My entire family cannot afford their cars.

To the extreme right is Vincent Acharya, the pharmaceutical industry's ruler. Despite the fact that everyone is dressed the same, Vincent stands out with his top-notch Italian shoes and personalised ties that seem to vary every day, as well as his wicked circular lenses.

Vincent and I have chemistry together.

We are literally lab partners, and he probably has no idea who I am. He only knows I exist since I write all of the lab experiment papers.

Vincent is the friendliest member of the gang. However, he is lacking in one area. "I still can't believe Vincent is gay," Lilly murmured, exaggerating her sigh.

I look up to see Vincent's lover approaching him. With a smile that could be seen from miles, his coloured blue hair was dancing across his deep emerald eyes. He was carrying a guitar bag, a silver earring that twinkled in the sunlight, and a giggle that could melt anyone's heart. I recall the first time I heard him play, and to say he was brilliant would be an understatement. From the outside, they appear to be normal buddies, but everyone knows-Vincent rests his palm on Larry's ass-that Larry belongs to him.

"Ohh, there's your future, boo," Lilly said, knowing about my crush.

My eyes widened when I noticed Sam Thompson.

As Sam Thompson, my first and only love, walks closer and closer to me, the chicken nuggets crumble in my arms.

There are minor details that throw you off when you first meet him, such as his English accent, which makes me drool. Sam was raised in the United Kingdom until high school, and I had the pleasure of meeting him shortly after he migrated to the United States. Don't be fooled by Sam's surname; despite the surname Thompson, he is Asian, primarily Chinese-Korean. He may have some English blood inside him, which makes his modest European structure more appealing.

I recall Sam capturing every girl's heart, including mine, that day, with clean, dark hair and a suit that was pressed to impress.

My brow furrows as he approaches my table, and I begin pinching myself, wondering whether it's all a dream. If this were a fantasy, he'd seize my wrist and dunk me, smashing our lips together. Stop watching romantic comedies, please. That stupid, tiny voice in my head

Lilly grabbed my arm and began yanking on it. "He's on his way!" Your hubby is on his way! "He's coming!" she exclaimed.

The shattered chicken nugget lands on my lap. As he gets closer and closer, my heartbeat becomes irregular. He comes to a halt in front of me, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his trembling hand. Sam tilted his head, his dark chocolate eyes shining brightly.

I've been strolling around the halls with my head bowed for the last three years, since that incident happened. I was content to stand back and observe Sam like every other girl.

Of course, I've been fantasizing about confessing my feelings to Sam since the first year of high school, but I'm not stupid enough to do it.

My eyes expanded, and my breath became ragged and rough. My chicken nugget hands shook on my lap. I'd run if I could, but my legs had frozen in place.

I stopped breathing when he tilted his head and moved a hand to my face. His brush across my nose caused me to stop breathing for a moment. I was inhaling the sweet green apple and lemonade perfume he wore. "You got chicken nuggets here," he said sweetly into my ear.

My cheeks flushed with humiliation as his pals burst into unrestrained laughter from behind. I look down and brush the remaining debris from my face, attempting to reclaim what's left of my dignity.

I take a big breath and glance up. "What do you want?" My voice was icy and lacking in comfort.

Living in the social top crust had taught me to be cruel. To survive, you should not have a heart, and if you do, you should hide it.

He raised his brow and sat in the empty chair in front of me. When he slammed the crumpled piece of paper down, my whole body shook. As the cafeteria fell silent, Jackson blew a whistle and chewed his gum. "Shit is about to go down for real," he exclaimed in complete amusement.

I took the paper and turned it toward me-the marriage contract.

My eyes scanned the paper until I saw my name. "Why is my name written here?" I murmur, sensing everyone's piercing stare.

Sam takes the paper and stuffs it into his pocket. "You tell me." He stood up and leaned in towards me, both palms on the table. "What did you do?" he asked, his tone strained.

My hands twist and pull on the pattern skirt. "I didn't do anything."

As I try to catch my breath, he moves in closer, his lips brushing across the lobe of my ear. His musky aroma invades any sensible thoughts still inside my mind as I take an inhale through my nostril. "I will never marry you," he slyly says.

He pushes himself back, his wonderful muddy browns scowling at me before walking away.

My eyes refuse to move away from the back of his head as I take a big inhale. "Don't think you're all that great!" I shouted uncontrollably, praying for a hole to appear beneath me so I could vanish.

He comes to a halt and carefully turns around, his eyes seductively glancing at me. I expected him to lash out at me at that point, but instead his lips twisted up into a sly sneer.

I tilt my head as the buzzing noise pierces my ear. "Why is there an al-"

"Vera! "Are you sleeping in the bathroom once more?" Lilly yelled.

"Why are you screaming about me in the bathroom?" I ask, turning to face her. We are clear." I look around and notice that the cafeteria is empty.

"I told you sleeping in the bathroom isn't good for you." Lilly got up and folded her arms.

My head is jolted up from the sink next to the toilet. My shorts are still wrapped around my ankle, and my butt is still on the toilet. I examine the bathroom in order to see...

"I-I'm awake!" I answered to my irritable roommate.

"Vera! " Don't you have an interview at eight o'clock?"

I flushed the toilet, began washing my hands, and then brushed my teeth. "Yeah!"

"Aren't you going to head out?"

"Why? It's only six o'clock."

There was a long silence. "Vera! It's 7:30."

The toothbrush almost flew out of my mouth, but it stayed inside. "What? What are you talking about? Last time I chec-" I pressed a button on my phone, which never left my side. "Wait a minute! I've been asleep for about two hours on the toilet!" I spit the foam out.

I quickly rinsed out the rest, splashed some water on my face, and slathered some lotion on my parched skin. I dashed into the bedroom after leaving the restroom to get some work clothes. "I set out your interview clothes for you." The surface of Lilly's inner mother

When I pass her, I kiss her cheek. "You're the best."

I dashed out the door after changing into my interview attire. "Paperwork on the counter, heels near the front door." "I called someone to come get you," she explained.

I hugged her like a bear. "What am I going to do without you, Li?"

She smiles as she resumes her dishwashing. "Probably become a hobo on the streets."

I didn't want to go back home and show my parents my shameful face after my divorce. Mom and dad knew about my obsession with my ex-husband, so they did everything they could to make me happy.

So, after graduating from high school, I married Sam. I was 18 years old when I said, "I do."

I can't tell them that their daughter is unhappy. However, even if they were in South America, they would have heard the news by now. The fact that I divorced my husband almost a year ago

It's difficult to find a good-paying job at the age of 20, but I didn't want Lilly to continue providing for me while she was still in school. She encouraged me to go to college, but I felt it wasn't for me. Despite attending one of the most elite academies, I've never been much of a reader.

I prefer hands-on experience and working in the field, which institutions don't provide much of. We came together in the center, and I told her that once I get a job, I'd like to attend a class or two. The difficult thing isn't getting into college; it's acquiring the money to pay for the classes.

Lilly offered to help me, but how can I ever take more advantage of my friendship with the most amazing girl on the planet?

"Thank you for not turning me into a hobo," I murmured, returning her smile.

She shoves a waffle in my face. "Now, go." She motions with her hands to the door.

I nod and collect everything before squeezing my heels together. I turn to face her. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it," she says, giving me a thumbs up. "You've got this baby girl. Carpe diem, right?"

I returned her thumb and smiled, "Carpe diem."

Vera's POV:

"What? "Would you mind repeating that?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Brown, but you're not qualified for this position." However, if there is another opening, we will definitely contact you."

In other words, get your fucking ass outta here.

I nodded before dragging my legs out of the business. I can see why they would want someone with more experience and a higher level of education. I did, however, graduate from Pandora Academy. I think I'll be able to get the job.

Then again, this is not the first time someone has told me that I am unfit for the post. It's always one of the three reasons. One, I'm too young and inexperienced. Two, because my high school credential is too prestigious, they advise me to go for a higher degree for the sake of my future. Third, my high school diploma is not good enough.

My head hung poorly as I dragged my legs towards the glass door, almost as if I had left a funeral.

I did.

The funeral for my future self

The funeral of a proper lunch

The funeral of acceptance

I did not carpe diem.

I want to crawl back home at times like this, but I'm still too ashamed of myself. My parents asked me two years ago if I was certain I wanted to marry Sam, and I confidently replied, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yesssss!" only to be separated a year later.

What would they think of me?

Before I return, I want to accomplish at least one thing, such as getting a job.

My parents have always pampered me because they worked their way up from the bottom. They did not become wealthy through the accumulation of generations, but rather by sacrificing their youth and developing a respectable enterprise.

How can I be a proper Brown if I can't even make meaning out of my first name?

"Why are you even hiding from your own family?" I buried my face in my hands. Pride? They've undoubtedly figured out by now that you're divorced. "Just flush that pride down the toilet so you can eat some good steak," I moaned.

I bumped into someone while inhaling a luscious green apple and lemonade. I have always loved that smell. "Sorry, my tears and pride are blocking the path," I said, without looking at the person, and continued heading towards the entrance.

I arrived at the bus stop after going two blocks barefoot since no one cares in the city. I sighed as I gripped the silver rod, which was presumably full of bacteria. When the aroma of freshly cooked hotdogs entered my nose, I burst out laughing like a walrus. My stomach was on the verge of exploding. "I'll get a job and come back for you one day."

I've done odd jobs here and there, but they've always been seasonal. My savings account is currently at an all-time low. I don't want to delve into it until there's an emergency, such as a broken leg or acid pouring on me.

My heels were dangling on my fingertips when the bus arrived. My wild, unruly hair decided I needed to be the lion king today. I took off my coat earlier, and it's now hanging on my shoulders. I probably appear to be a daytime alcoholic.

I lean against the glass and gaze out to San Francisco. I did, in fact, run from New York to San Francisco. I moved across the nation to avoid my ex-husband.

I sighed as I ran my fingertips along the window. "Why?" I ask myself, feeling the bus rock back and forth. "Why me?" I started slamming my head against the glass, disregarding all the strangers' looks.

"Why!" I scream even louder, which makes the baby cry. The mother gave me a deadly look before swaying her infant back and forth.

"The miss at the back," the bus driver announced over the speaker.

Looking around, I notice a single mother with a baby and a man asleep in the corner. Two men were also present, chit-chatting with one another. "Me?"

He looked in the large mirror. "You, yes. "Are you all right?"

A part of me wants to tell him I'm fine and to reassure everyone that I'm not insane or a drug addict. "No! "I'm not fine!" I sobbed, my limbs sagging on the bus seat. "I didn't get the job...again!"

Everyone nods as if they understood my pain. "I understand your struggles," the mother remarked. "I was turned down by over fifty companies before landing my current position." Then I had to leave because of this ungrateful brat." She gently presses her finger against the baby's cheeks, causing him to laugh.

"You're still young," the bus driver said, to which everyone nodded. "Please take your time. Someone will notice your efforts and hire you one day."

I smile, as if the sadness had just vanished into thin air. "Thank you, mister bus driver!"

"Why don't you apply for Vivus?" the mother asked abruptly.

"What's Vivus?"

"It's a brand-new fashion company." I heard they're doing a lot of hiring. Even if you look like an unemployed hobo, you might be hired." She got a bottle from her bag and stirred it before giving it to her baby.

"I look like a hobo?" I asked as I stared down at my clothes.

"To them, you probably do." Her baby was aggressively devouring the milk. "It's a fashion company, sweetheart, and that outfit most likely won't cut it."

I sat there, contemplating my options. I don't want to work in the fashion industry because Sam and my family are both in it. However, if it's a tiny company with a good salary, I can work quietly, and I can always apply for other jobs while I'm working there.

"Thank you, mother of that handsome boy!" I said.

She only blinks once. "She's a girl," she added as she reached into her purse. She takes a bow from her purse and clips it onto her child's single strand of hair.

Oh, how embarrassing. I fold my hands on my lap, drawing a thin line across my face. "She is very pre-"

"Don't," the mother warned.

I instantly closed my mouth. "Sorry," I said quietly. I had to apologize.

"Lisa."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Lisa."

I stood up, straddling my legs towards her, and smiled again. I took a seat next to Lisa. "I'm Vera." I extended my hand.

Lisa shook her head and reached for it. "Don't let a single day ruin your life."

I nod as she shows me her baby girl, Marisa, named after her grandmother. The day did not turn out as badly as I had feared; it turned out to be a very great day. Marisa giggles as I touch her cheek with a single finger.

"She's so pretty," I said quietly.

"You'll get your chance one day." Lisa smiled.

I let out a small giggle before peering out the window and seeing a billboard sign. Inside, his eyes were deep and catastrophic, painted like a great work of art. He sat on the leather couch, his legs perfectly crossed, his head resting against two fingers. loose black silk shirt with hand-carved gold cuffs and black pants. His opulent, dark hair slicks back into place. Anyone would believe he's devilishly attractive just by looking at him.

"Handsome, isn't he?" Lisa remarked.

"Devilishly."

I've only seen Sam on billboards and in magazines during the last year. His eyes were stunning, but terribly empty.

"I heard he's a CEO," Lisa sighs. "If I'm half as attractive as him, I'd also be a model for my company."

"Really? Because it makes him appear congruent...and cheap."

Lisa exhales, her face scrunched down, as if she had a double chin. "He is a billionaire."

"Then, why doesn't he hire actual models?" I knew I was having an unusual tantrum, but I didn't care. "Because he's cheap. "He does not wish to recruit them in order to save money. That's how the rich stay rich; they're cheap!" I was essentially insulting every wealthy family in the world, including my own.

Lisa chuckled, moving her head slightly away from me. "You seem like you have something against him." She hummed softly before leaning inside with her upper body. "Is it because you can't have him?"

I was his wife!

I didn't say it aloud.

Lisa returns her gaze to the billboard and asks, "How can someone be so handsome?"

"Handsome face, cold heart."

"Come again?"

"Nothing." I return my attention to Lisa, twiddling my finger in front of her face and occasionally prodding her fat cheeks.

When I arrived at my location, I said my goodbyes to Lisa, Marisa, and Bob, the bus driver. "At least you made some friends today; so good for you, Vera." I resolve to maintain my positivity.

The soles of my feet were throbbing to the point of no return as I walked two more blocks to the flat. I unlock the door, which opens with an awful creak. I wipe the dirt from my heels by lightly slamming them against the wall before stepping into the kitchen. I grab the broom and sweep up all the dirt I just created, knowing Lilly would be upset if I made a mess. She's already been kind enough to let me stay for free, so I shouldn't take advantage of her generosity.

I hobble towards the couch and massage my painful feet after I finish. "Should I try to apply?" I think to myself before taking out Lilly's laptop. I began studying the firm after entering her password, password 1.

The mouse clicks float in the air for who knows how long until the front door creaks open. "Vera! Guess what I brou-" Lilly came to a halt when she noticed me curled up in a dark blanket, which she referred to as my depression blanky. "You didn't get the job, did you?"

I shook my head and placed the laptop on the old brown wooden table. "No one wants me."

Lilly removes her shoes before placing her backpack next to the couch and a box of donuts on the table. She approached me out of humiliation. "Oh, Vera. Don't worry, you'll get the next one." She brushes a hand against my back as I lean against her chest.

"I'm applying for another position right now."

"Already? I already told you, Vera, that we don't need funds right now. Take some time to unwind. You've been looking for work like mad since you moved to San Francisco."

"But-"

"No buts, take a break." No more applying for jobs, and I best not catch you washing dishes at a restaurant."

I look down at my pruned hands from when I took a job at this sketchy eatery. The work was difficult, but a job is a job. When Lilly saw me, she pulled my a$$ out of the building, declaring that I have more to offer the world than clean plates. I was suffering from depression at the time. I wanted to do anything other than sit indoors and think about my attractive ex-husband.

"Is this all I'm good for?" I asked her as a quick breath escaped her throat. "Being a heiress, then marrying some rich guy?"

"Behena."

That nickname, fuck it. She's starting to get serious." Never say that. "You are more valuable than that. You have so much more to offer the world. It will only take some time."

"How do you do it?" I ask, smiling. "You always make me feel better. You're the greatest."

"Now, wipe those tears away and assist me in the kitchen." "We don't want me to burn any more meals," she said, giggling. I nod before sitting up a little more upright. We did our secret handshake, which consisted of hands-slapping and knuckle punches. Before she went back to her room to change,

I took a deep breath and exhale, no longer feeling the weight on my chest. My gaze was drawn to the bright screen, as if it were taunting me. I grab the mouse and scroll through the pages. Before clicking, apply.