Brina Arrow
2 Published Stories
Brina Arrow's Books and Stories
Mr. Nelson's Super-rich Life
Modern After pooling together what little I earned from my part-time job, I was finally able to buy my girlfriend a cake for her birthday and surprise her. Little did I know that I was the one in for a surprise-- I found my girlfriend cheating with another man right in front of me! She trampled all over my dignity and humiliated me. All because I was a common pauper. I walked home with a shattered heart, not knowing what was waiting for me at home.
The butler of the country's richest man showed up at my door. It was only then that my mother had told me the shocking truth-- I was the heir of the Nelson Group. The Nelson family was known for owning numerous luxurious properties around the country, and I was going to inherit it all.
This was my opportunity for revenge and to take back my dignity.
After buying a designer suit and hopping in a luxury car, I appeared before my ex-girlfriend. When she saw me, she knelt down and begged for mercy. She cried, "I am so sorry for betraying you. Can you please give me another chance?"
It felt good to see that those people who once belittled and insulted me now bowed at my feet and scurried to flatter me. But I was even more satisfied when I turned around and ignored them, heading to my new home that was worth millions.
From now on, money was nothing more than a string of numbers to me.
A reporter asked me once, "Mr. Nelson, do you love money?"
I put down my cigar and said the words that would take the world by storm, "I don't love money. I just like spending it." Great Fortune: I Am A Billionaire
Modern After pooling together what little I earned from my part-time job, I was finally able to buy my girlfriend a cake for her birthday and surprise her. Little did I know that I was the one in for a surprise-- I found my girlfriend cheating with another man right in front of me! She trampled all over my dignity and humiliated me. All because I was a common pauper. I walked home with a shattered heart, not knowing what was waiting for me at home.
The butler of the country's richest man showed up at my door. It was only then that my mother had told me the shocking truth-- I was the heir of the Nelson Group. The Nelson family was known for owning numerous luxurious properties around the country, and I was going to inherit it all.
This was my opportunity for revenge and to take back my dignity.
After buying a designer suit and hopping in a luxury car, I appeared before my ex-girlfriend. When she saw me, she knelt down and begged for mercy. She cried, "I am so sorry for betraying you. Can you please give me another chance?"
It felt good to see that those people who once belittled and insulted me now bowed at my feet and scurried to flatter me. But I was even more satisfied when I turned around and ignored them, heading to my new home that was worth millions.
From now on, money was nothing more than a string of numbers to me.
A reporter asked me once, "Mr. Nelson, do you love money?"
I put down my cigar and said the words that would take the world by storm, "I don't love money. I just like spending it." You might like
Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Fritz Heaney I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary." 
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