Revenge Of The Richest Ex-Husband

Susan’s True Identity

“Jamole.” Susan called in like manner, letting a contagious smile deck her face.

Jamole was still star-struck; his weight heaved on his knees and he suddenly realized his legs couldn’t carry his body anymore.

“Who is she? Who is Susan for Christ sake?” who did I propose marriage to?”

Millions of such questions hovered in his thought as he stared engagingly at Susan who was being ridden in her wheel chair by her security.

“Susan!” Jamole called once more through teary tone, “Is this really you? What is happening?”

He needed to ask such questions because Susan wasn’t just looking dashing but glamorous and charming than any country side celebrity. Unlike the other day when he met her begging in her wheel chair, looking all dirty, smelling and unkempt.

She had her French hair made into a ponytail. Her dress was mini gown from the royalty fashion style. The diamond bracelet and necklace that wound round her neck and wrist were worth one million dollars.

“Who the hell is Susan?” a thoughtful voice queried in Jamole, especially the moment his gaze settled on the plate numbers which had Swan Pablo inscribed on them.

“My fiancée,” Susan called once her security rode her to the side of Jamole, “Don’t be astounded.”

Jamole hadn’t been so dazzled in his entire life. He kept swallowing hard and struggling to steady his gaze on Susan who couldn’t help blushing and smiling cheek to cheek.

“Do you remember this?” Susan asked, rubbing the Arabic gold ring on her finger in one emphatic way.

Jamole stuttered, “Ye… yes…yes, I do,” he nodded.

It was the same Arabic Coral Gold ring Jamole used to propose marriage to her a few days ago. Although the Arabic gold ring was supposed to open healed wounds, yet Jamole was rather possessed with the uncertainty that was playing before him.

Over a million times Jamole’s eyes winked at the plate numbers again and he need not be told he had proposed marriage to the daughter of a big wig in Antipolo.

He was almost plunged to question her real identity when Susan said, “I know you have a lot to ask me and I have plenty answers waiting for you too.” She kept at her smile.

Jamole had already nodded in agreement even before she spoke. He only could gape and stare sheepishly at her.

“Do you mind joining me in my convoy, fiancé? We have a lot to discuss. We deserve a better environment than this.” She gestured her hand around the obscene surrounding of the municipal post office.

From the blues, Jamole had lost his voice; all he could do now was nod in agreement to whatever Susan had to say, because the shocker of his life was happening right before him.

Jamole swirled around and gazed upon his boss, Dean Bur who had been stunned as he.

All the while Dean Bur had been possessed with cold shivers down his spines. He wondered what was happening before his eyes  and how Jamole became acquainted with Susan Pablo. Through furrowed brow Dean Bur stared thoughtfully at Jamole.

“Um..um Jamole, my dear,” Dean intoned remorsefully with courtesy hanging in his voice. Shamefully he lowered his gaze.”How did you get to know her?” his voice was cold and calm.

Jamole , who was still bewildered by Susan’s true personality , snorted in fury, gave Dean the cold shoulders and dimmed his eyes at him to remind him of the retaliation that awaited him for all the paltry , wickedness he poured on him.

“Sweetie,” Susan called, sharing a stare between Jamole and Dean, “Who is this man?” she asked, pointing at Dean who was as humble as a flogged dog.

Jamole let a thunderous grin across his face.  He wanted to open his mouth to say a few words but got choked by the event happening before him; this had got to be a dream.

What! Susan who? Susan Pablo? Oh my God! Jamole raised his gaze at the sky and warm tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Dear, why are you all tears? Why?” Susan queried Jamole and dared to pull her wheel chair closer before her security helped her. “You don’t have to cry anymore. I have come for you.” She pulled Jamole on the arm to pet him.

Jamole sniffed repeatedly , daring to fight back the wave of sorrow sweeping through him. “Is this me? Could this be happening? Or am I a victim of fortune?” he spoke inwardly as he wiped his tears.

Dean Bur raised an inspective gaze upon Susan in a bid to be humble before her, “Susan Pablo, the only daughter of Swan Pablo, the richest man in Antipolo!” he eulogized her, with his head bowed.

Jamole rolled his eyes at Dean and got shocked at the way he humbled himself before Susan. This was a man that served him sack letters a while ago.

“it is an honor to have you in our midst ma’am,” said Dean, his head still bowed, “But ma’am permit me to ask who you really are to Jamole because for all I know Jamole has been the janitor at this hall and a poverty-stricken fellow nobody would want to reckon with.”

Susan raised her quarrelsome gaze at him, “I beg your pardon, this is my fiancée.” She pointed at Jamole.

Dean squeezed his eyes and winked nervously at Susan as though to remind her she probably didn’t know what she was saying.

“Jamole? Your fiancée? How come?” Dean queried  and gazed upon Jamole with a quick glare from head to toes.

Jamole thought he was going to tolerate dean’s excesses, but grinned in fury. Honestly he was still stunned to realize the personality of the disable girl he proposed marriage to.

Promptly Susan’s security approached Jamole and bowed before him, “Boss, can we take you to the car now? Our boss demands you join her.”

Jamole swallowed hard as he winked out of the shock of the moment. The security led the way but before he joined them, Jamole shot a threatening stare at Dean for one last time.

Dean lowered his gaze and wouldn’t want to lock eyes with a poor man he thought wasn’t going to succeed in life.

“Dean,” Jamole finally called, “As you can see, Susan Pablo is my fiancée. But I want it registered in your memory that I will be back for you.”

Dean raised a thick brow. “Hold on Jamole. My dear…my dear…boss,” he called Jamole, and paced after him.

But then it was too late. Jamole had hopped into the Lamborghini and zoomed off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

“Oh my God!” Dean exclaimed, stroked his hair in confusion and squatted to ponder over what just happened right before him, “How the hell did Jamole get to know Susan Pablo? I am in deep mess,” he said in his head.

Trouble ahead…