My convoy of Ferrari, Lamborghini and Rolls Royce were zooming to the airport where I would join the rest of my executives for the annual oil budget planning summit in New York. Although I wasn’t lagging behind in time yet I wanted to be in New York on time just to set the pace as the world richest man; a reputable icon loved all over the world.
Almost skidding into the airport where my gold-plated private jet was parked, my convoy came to an abrupt halt once a figure was sighted standing in the middle of the road, arms folded and hostile face shooting through, the figure seemed familiar when I stared at her through my sunshades.
“Boss that is Sarah Canon,” Zion brought it to my attention and glared at me,” I believe she wants to have a word with you over your true identity which you revealed to her. Should we drive by or do you want to spell Christmas on her ass?” Zion demanded calmly yet hilariously, with his hands on the door about to open for me.
I snorted, molded my lips in fury over the delay this scene was going to pose to my movement. “Drive by!” I commanded Zion through clenched teeth and he put a quick call across the rest of the convoy to drive by.
But about diverting, Sarah Canon paced to the other path and this time around , she went down on her knees and molded her hands to beg before her face meshed into teary face and my convoy came to another halt.
“Boss,” Zion said next to me, “This kitten wants to see your face. Calling-off a wedding is the worse face-slapping you can give to a woman. I know this gender boss. Until she hears from you, she can never be satisfied with the devil’s hit. Perhaps this time around you may tell it to her in Spanish. I can also help with the translation if you don’t mind…”
I grinned and interrupted Zion, “Open the door!”
When I alighted and began to advance forward to Sarah, I beheld her swollen eyes, reddened cheeks and I need not be told she was already aghast like a demon from hell. As I surged closer, she wept even heavier, obviously daring to win my heart yet again after losing it.
Was she thinking I was going to marry her or what?
Once I stamped my feet on her side, I beamed, “Sarah canon!” I beamed, “What do you want from a boy you told to go to the road side and beg? Do you realize the gravity of what you just did? You have no damn right to stop my convoy, Sarah. I am VIP now. Didn’t you see my customized plate number, uh!” I yelled at her and took off my sunshades in a trice to unveil the cloud of fury in my eyes.
Sarah bowed her head trembling and body vibrating under the wailing that had already possessed her, “Please I beg of you the world richest man. Don’t do this to me. Don’t put me to shame by calling off the wedding …”
Flashes of camera light and onlookers interrupted her. When I glared around I saw that paparazzi had already come as usual to take photos of the world richest man in this dramatic scene with Sarah.
I snapped, “You are embarrassing me with your poverty-stricken looks, Sarah. If you look around you would see paparazzi, taking photos of us and I wouldn’t want to appear in the news with an embodiment of abject poverty like you!”
She gave a firm nod in approval, “Whatsoever you say now or call me is solely correct and acceptable, Mike. You have every right to do whatsoever you like because I am not worthy of your favor.” She sobbed and quickly dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, “I had written you off when I should have encouraged you. I had rejected you when I should have given you a warm acceptance. I refused you your mother’s medical bills and house rent when you came demanding for it. I never knew this day would come…”
A tear wanted to leak through my eyes and I fought it back with a grin, wishing I could forget the grisly experience I had as a pauper; indeed times were hard for me at the time and enemies like Sarah almost plunged me to commit suicide.
“Listen up Sarah, calling off the wedding is the best I could pull off because I don’t think you exist, let alone have feelings for you. Have you seen my wife, Clara Roham?” I queried, “Are you prettier than her?” my voice rang, and she gave a nod at each question, “I am contented with Clara Roham and don’t need your silly ass in my wealthy life…”
I turned to walk back to my convoy and she interrupted me, “The world richest !” she called, “I don’t mind being your hundredth wife, just let me be called after your influential name.” she molded her hands to plead yet further, “Please, Mike Don, let go of the hurt. We have a bright future together. Forget about Clara Roham. I could be your destined wife…”
I smirked, and dragged a chiseled brow at her as my eyes narrowed, “Oh really Clara Roham is the wrong wife for me now, uh.” I chuckled and clicked my fingers at her, “You are just impossible as Morgan Harris and the Fanny’s. Yes tell me what makes you feel you are my destined wife, uh. My destined wife wouldn’t tell me to go to the roadside, stand and beg…”
Finally my tears leaked through and trickled down my cheeks. I forced a twinkle, “Now you want to be my hundredth wife because I am the world richest man now, uh, because I am the MVP uh? Kiss my ass!”
She interposed me, “No! I love you…”
She was yet speaking when I yelled at her, “Keep shut you kitten. You don’t love me. You love the influence and power I pull, you love my unlimited wealth.” I chuckled heavily and squatted to her, “Sarah Canon, the table has turned. If you have ever invited guests to our wedding or spread news of our wedding you may have to do yourself the favor of reminding them they won’t be any wedding because I just served you just a dose of my vengeance!” I snapped and stamped my feet.
About walking away, she grabbed my ankle and I kicked off her hands…
“Of a truth boss I must learn the art of vengeance from you,” Zion said and turned to her,
You can still marry me, dear. I have the blood of Mike Don in my veins,” Zion mocked her and blew her a kiss.
“Please, Mike! Please!” she wailed at the tops of her voice and watched my convoy drive away in a cloud of dust…