A Billionaire After Divorce

PRESIDENT!

"No, you didn't just tear the godforsaken check!" Gerald stomps his foot and yells furiously, eyes as dark as coal. He glances at the pieces of paper on the floor and feels a lump in his throat.

That was some heart-wrenching funds this fool just destroyed! Gosh!

"How dare you?!" He growls, quivering with overwhelming wrath. "That was one million dollars, punk! One fucking million dollars!"

"So what if it was one million dollars?" Jordan snorts indifferently and rolls his eyes. "Even if it was ten million dollars, I would have still ripped it to dreads since I don't need it. And what do you mean by "how dare I?" How dare I what exactly?

"If I can recall correctly, the check was handed to me to do as I wished thus it is none of your business that I chose to use it by destroying it! But wait, why are you so stirred up? Didn't you come to take the check from me so I wouldn't cash it? So now that I've destroyed it, which is the same thing you want, shouldn't you be happy?"

"Happy my foot!" Gerald grimaces and sucks his teeth, turning from red to green and from green to pale in the space of a few seconds. 'Who said he wanted to take the check so it won't be cashed? It might have been what Avery told him to do, but who said that it was what he wanted to do?

His plan was to get that one million dollars and use it to get himself some nice new stuff. As a promising young lady, Isabella has always been the one in control of the family's funds, and whatever amount she feels like giving him each time he asks for money is what he receives.

She doesn't care if he was pleased or displeased. The last money she gave to him was a freaking one hundred thousand dollars while he requested five hundred!

That one million dollars was like the highest amount he would have been receiving from her and it would have gone a long way for him. But this riffraff just ruined it.

"Ah!" He runs his hand through his hair, suddenly darts at Jordan and stretches his hand, aiming to grab him on the collar but before he can even successfully cover the remaining distance between him and Jordan, Jordan waves his hand, his palm flying through the air and smacks him so hard across the cheek, causing him to begin spinning around as if a ball.

In the past, Jordan had never treated Gerald like this as he had always put up with his insults because of his grave love for Isabella, but as he already told him earlier, he has been divorced so he wouldn’t show him any mercy anymore.

He never shows mercy to idiots!

Meanwhile, after spinning more than five times, Gerald drops to the floor with a loud thud. "Argh!" He cries out in anguish, clutching his burning cheek and rubbing his aching ass. He'd landed on his ass.

On his fucking ass!

But that is not all, in his more than twenty years of age, no one has ever slapped him, but this punk did! He brazenly raised his fist at him. "You slapped me! How dare you punk slap me?!" He barks, panting.

"Why don't I dare slap you? Are you any better than everyone else? Besides, I warned you, but I guess idiots like you never listen. You should be happy it was only a slap," Jordan hisses, and paying deaf to his other yellings, babbles, and insults, walks away.

In no time, he gets out of the street into a remote area, and at this moment, a luxurious Rolls Royce Phantom neatly pulls over in front of him. The next second, the driver's door opens and an elegant looking fair-skinned old man with white hair and beards alights from the car and walks up to Jordan, his head bowed in reverence. Without saying a word, he walks to the back door and respectfully opens it for Jordan.

All through this process, Jordan keeps a straight face, seemingly not surprised to see the old man and a few seconds later, a subtle smile plays on his lips. Perhaps, he and the old man has an untold relationship.

He calmly gets into the car and the old man shuts the door, hurries, and gets into the car as well and shuts the door.

He glances at Jordan through the rearview mirror and takes a deep breath, seemingly calming his nerves before asking,

"Sire, I know you didn't intend for the plan to be executed, but now that things have come to this, what are your thoughts? Perhaps, should the plan start now?"

Jordan lets out a sigh. "Yes."

"How about your hostess' company?"

At that question, Jordan's face instantly turns cold and an acidic taste creeps into his tongue, his veins throbbing.

"After everything I did for her and her family, she asked me for a divorce, and as a respecter of wishes, I readily agreed. It can be said that she and I no longer have anything together so from now on, she would seize from being the hostess."

The old man's jaw drops and his eyes dilate, his eyeballs threatening to fall out of their sockets. His master has always been a protector of that lady. He would go to the ends of the world for her, but now, he is really severing all ties with her.

He sighs, surprisingly, not feeling sorry for Jordan, but for Isabella because she is ignorant of the man she just missed. A man who any lady would kill herself for. Guess people would always not know what they have until they lose it.

BEEP... BEEP...

At this moment, the old man's phone begins ringing. He takes a deep breath as he drops his gaze from the rearview mirror to the phone's screen to check the caller's ID.

At a glance, his heart skips a beat. Talking about the devil! It is Isabella, Jordan's ex-wife! He glances at Jordan about to say something, but Jordan already figuring out who the caller must be from the old's man reaction, looks away to the other side.

The old man sighs and not knowing what else to do, receives the call and puts it on loudspeaker. He can't afford to keep Jordan in the darkness.

"President!" Immediately that is done, Isabella's enthusiastic yet reverent voice reverberates from the other end.