Clause Seventeen

“Where is it?” Miranda repeated, her voice carrying.

The words cut clean through the polite murmur of conversation surrounding Adrian and the investor he was speaking to. Both men turned toward her. The investor’s brows lifted in mild surprise. 

Adrian’s expression tightened instantly. “What are you doing?” 

He never believed Miranda would have the courage to ever confront him… in public. 

“Finishing what you started.” She exclaimed. “Or was humiliating me in front of everyone enough?”

The investor cleared his throat, already retreating. “I’ll… give you a moment,” he muttered, stepping away quickly.

Adrian didn’t answer her immediately. His eyes swept the space around them, cataloguing the curious glances, the subtle lean-ins, and the cameras hovering just a little too close.

Only then did it matter.

Without a word, he seized Miranda’s wrist.

Not gently.

Not violently.

With ownership.

“Come with me,” he said under his breath.

Before she could react, Adrian was already pulling her through the crowd. Gasps followed. Whispers sharpened. Someone called his name. He ignored it, steering her toward a side corridor near the ballroom.

“Let go of me,” Miranda said, her voice controlled, resisting his grip.

He didn’t.

Once out of sight, Adrian shoved open a private lounge door and pulled her inside, slamming it shut behind them. The sound cracked through the room.

Miranda tore her wrist free, flexing her fingers once, as if recalibrating.

“Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

“I should be asking you that,” she replied evenly. “You announce our divorce to the world and then drag me away like an inconvenience.”

Adrian turned fully toward her. His face was impassive. Irritation flickered, nothing more.

“Do you have an idea of the person you’re talking to right now?”

Miranda made a funny face. “Oh, I haven’t lost my mind yet, Adrian Cole.” 

“Lower your voice.” Adrian snapped, shocked and furious. 

She let out a short, humorless breath. “You ended a marriage on a stage. You don’t get to dictate my volume.”

“You’re overreacting,” he said flatly.

That was the final switch.

“Overreacting?” Miranda stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “You stood in front of people who already doubted me and framed me as a calculated liar. You dismantled my reputation deliberately.”

“It was efficient,” he replied. “Didn’t I execute it cleanly?”

Her brow lifted. “Execute.”

He paused briefly. “Does it affect you?”

Miranda looked at him steadily. “I gave you loyalty. That’s the only mistake I made.”

“Oh, come on, you were never to take this too far.” 

She nodded severally. “Yeah. You’re right. It was my fault that I fell in love. Now give me the goddamn papers and we will end this charade.” 

Her composure irritated him more than anger ever could.

“Enough,” Adrian snapped. “This performance won’t change the outcome.”

“I’m not trying to,” she said coolly. “I want the papers. I sign them. I leave. End of an era.”

The word 'leave' settled between them.

“Eager to be rid of me?” His tone was measured now. 

Miranda exhaled slowly. “You announced our divorce publicly. Explain to me why urgency is suddenly my flaw.”

Adrian scoffed. “You’ll get what you want when the contract allows.”

Her spine straightened. “What contract?”

“Our marriage contract,” he said without inflection. “Which hasn’t expired.”

She stared at him. “Explain.”

“It runs for three years,” Adrian continued. “There are eight days remaining.”

“You declared a divorce.”

“Yes,” he said. “And I stand by it.”

Her jaw tightened. “So that was theatre.”

“It was necessary.”

“For whom?” she asked.

“For finality.”

Miranda let out a short laugh. “You’re confusing control with closure.”

“You’ll sign when the contract ends,” he said. “Not before.”

“And if I refuse?”

His eyes hardened.

“You pay the penalty.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

“Twenty million,” he added. “Clause seventeen.”

The room fell silent.

Miranda nodded once. “Understood.”

She studied his face, not for mercy, but for confirmation.

She found none.

“You lied about me,” she said calmly. “You stripped me publicly. And now you bind me legally.”

“Yes,” Adrian said immediately.

He didn't hesitate. And that would be the moment he would later wish he could erase.

Her lips curved faintly.

“Eight days,” she said.

He frowned. “What?”

“The contract ends in eight days,” Miranda said. “I’ll endure your presence for eight days. Then you’re finished.”

“Don’t…”

“You already ended this,” she cut in. “I won’t pretend otherwise.”

She smoothed her gown and turned toward the door.

“Eight days,” she said without looking back. “Then I’m gone.”

Adrian watched her leave, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Outside, the night air was sharp.

Melissa waited near the exit, arms crossed, jaw set. Vivian stood a few steps away, posture elegant, satisfaction poorly concealed.

“Still here?” Vivian asked lightly. “Hoping he’d reconsider?”

Melissa scoffed. “You should practice restraint.”

Vivian smiled thinly. “You should practice relevance.”

Miranda stepped between them.

“That’s enough.”

Vivian tilted her head. “You actually thought he’d choose you?”

Melissa surged forward. “Say that again…”

Miranda lifted a hand. “Stop.”

She looked at Vivian. “You’re correct. You won.”

Vivian’s eyes gleamed.

“Wise,” she said. “Exiting quietly.”

Miranda leaned in slightly. “Enjoy him. Men who destroy women publicly rarely show restraint in private.”

Vivian’s smile faltered.

Miranda turned away.

Melissa followed.

Inside the car, silence stretched. City lights blurred past.

“We’re going to my place,” Melissa said.

Miranda nodded.

After a moment, Melissa glanced at her. “Are you alright?”

Miranda stared ahead. “I’m finished.”

Not broken.

Finished.

Melissa parked when they arrived. No tears followed. No collapse.

“What now?” Melissa asked.

Miranda looked out the window, expression resolved.

“I erase him.”

Melissa nodded. “Are you sure, though?”

“Absolutely.”