Chapter 5

Amelia’s POV

The law office smelled like leather and old money, a scent that reminded me too much of Daniel's study. I sat across from Jonathan Reeves, Daniel's lawyer, watching him arrange papers on his mahogany desk with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. His suit probably cost more than my current month's rent, and the abstract art on his walls screamed success in a language I no longer spoke.

He slid papers across the polished surface, his manicured fingers leaving no prints on the expensive stationery. "Mrs. Sterling, these documents outline the settlement terms."

"Hart," I corrected quietly, my voice barely carrying across the desk. "Amelia Hart."

His smile was professionally sympathetic, the kind lawyers practiced in mirrors. "Of course. Ms. Hart. As you'll see, Mr. Sterling has been extremely generous."

I scanned the papers without really reading them, watching numbers jump out like accusations. Six figures for "inconvenience," the car in my name, alimony for three years, access to accounts I'd never touched. Blood money disguised as generosity, wrapped in legal terminology that made it sound reasonable.

"I'm recommending you negotiate for more," Reeves continued, leaning back in his leather chair. "Given the length of the marriage and the significant disparity in assets, you're entitled to substantially more."

"No." I set the papers down carefully. "I don't want his money."

Reeves blinked twice, his professional composure slipping. "Ms. Hart, I understand you're emotional, but you need to think practically…"

"I know exactly what I have." I met his eyes without flinching. "And what I don't have is any desire to take things from someone who clearly thinks I don't deserve them."

I picked up the pen and began signing, skipping through pages methodically. The penthouse, the car, the accounts, the stocks—all of it went with deliberate strokes.

At the final page, I paused. "Beneficiary rights to Sterling Holdings shares, two percent stake, valued at four point two million dollars."

My handwriting was in the margin from years ago, younger and more hopeful. I'd signed them over to Daniel during our first anniversary, thinking it romantic at the time.

"Those shares were technically gifted to you," Reeves said carefully. "They're yours to keep, completely separate from the settlement. Mr. Sterling may not even be aware you still have them."

Four point two million dollars. Enough to start over properly, to breathe without gasping.

I signed the waiver.

"Ms. Hart, please." Reeves looked genuinely alarmed. "At least take a few days to consider…"

"I'm done." I stood, grabbing my purse. "Is there anything else I need to sign?"

Reeves sighed. "Very well. I'll file these immediately."

I inhaled, bracing myself to speak…

Then a sharp knock at the door interrupted.

Reeves paused, then turned toward the door. "Come in."

The handle turned as the door opened and I froze.

Margaret stepped inside, her expensive perfume filling the room before she did. Designer suit, perfect hair, that smile that never reached her eyes.

"Hello, Jonathan," she said smoothly, her gaze sliding to me slowly, deliberately. "I can see you're busy with Miss Charity Case."

My spine stiffened. "My name is Amelia. Not charity case."

Margaret's smile widened, sharp and knowing. "Is it? I could have sworn it was 'desperate waitress who spilled wine on the right man.'"

The memory slammed into me—a charity gala, Daniel's hand warm on my waist before he was pulled away by business talks and associates, leaving me alone by the balcony. Margaret had approached me then, uninvited and cruel.

I've always wondered what Daniel saw in you. You're not even in his class.

"Madam Margaret," Reeves said firmly, standing, bringing me back to present. "I do not appreciate insults in my office. I'm currently attending to Ms. Hart, so if you could please…"

"Oh, relax, Jonathan." Margaret waved a dismissive hand. "I'm just stating facts. She was a waitress, wasn't she? Serving champagne at events she could never afford to attend as a guest." She turned to me fully. "You played your part well, I'll give you that. But we all knew it wouldn't last. You were always temporary."

Heat flooded my face. "Get out."

"Excuse me?" Margaret's eyebrows rose.

"I said get out." My voice shook but held firm. "You don't get to stand here and…"

"And what?" Margaret stepped closer, her voice dropping to something venomous. "Tell you the truth? That everyone at those galas whispered about you? That we all wondered how long Daniel would keep pretending you belonged?"

"That's enough." Reeves moved around his desk.

But the door opened again.

Daniel stood in the doorway, his presence filling the space like it always did. His suit was impeccable, his expression unreadable as his eyes moved from Margaret to me.

"Daniel." Margaret's voice softened immediately, transformed. "Perfect timing. I was just…"

"What's going on here?" His voice was calm, controlled, the one he used in boardrooms.

"Your ex-wife was being unreasonable," Margaret said smoothly, touching his arm lightly. "I simply made an observation and she became hysterical."

"Hysterical?" The word burst from me. "You called me a charity case! You…"

"Margaret." Daniel's voice cut through mine, and I waited—waited for him to defend me, to tell her she was out of line, to show even a shred of the man I'd married.

"You should apologize."

Relief started to flood through me until I realized he was looking at me.

"What?" I breathed.

"Margaret came here on business." His tone was measured, reasonable, completely detached. "Whatever history you two have, there's no need to create a scene in Jonathan's office."

I stared at him, my heart fracturing in real time. "She insulted me. She called me…"

"I heard what she said." Daniel's jaw tightened slightly. "But you're overreacting. Margaret has always been direct. It's not personal."

"Not personal?" My voice cracked. "She called me a charity case, Daniel. She said I never belonged in your world, that everyone knew I was temporary, and you're telling me to ‘apologize’?"

Margaret's smile was subtle but unmistakable, victory dancing in her eyes.

Daniel sighed, the sound heavy with impatience. "Amelia, you're being dramatic. Margaret is an old family friend and a business associate. I'd appreciate it if you could be civil."

The room tilted. Everything tilted.

My world! Did Daniel just defend another woman who insulted me? After everything—after three years of marriage, after I'd loved him with everything I had—he was standing in this office, looking at me like I was nothing. Like I'd never been anything.

"Dramatic," I repeated numbly.

"Yes." Daniel's expression didn't change. "Now, if you're finished here, Jonathan and I have matters to discuss."