My Asian Billionaire Ex-Husband

CHAPTER1

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 w***e 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.