All Chapters of The Billionaire's Lie: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

16 Chapters

The Marriage Clause

There are people I don't quite recognize at Dad's funeral. They look like moguls and tycoons , dressed in silk black , with bodyguards around them. One would think this is the burial of the Mafia. But then, Dad could have been Mafia. Who knows? "Rachel," I turn around and see Mum walking up to me. "We have to head home soon. The reading of the will will be taking place." "Can't it be done tomorrow?" "No, Rachel. It has to be done today. " "I'll meet you at home. " She looks at me for a lingering second before moving on. I want to see if I can strike up a conversation with any of these people. Maybe attract a business collaboration. A small smile spreads across my face. I'd just buried my dad in less than ten minutes, and I'm already thinking of striking a deal. I see one of them walking up to me - Dad's friend , Mr. Westwood. "Rachel," he smiles. "How do you do?" "I'm very well, thank you. How do you do?" I reply , as politely as I can. "I'm alright. Where's your mother?" "O

The Encounter

I wake up with a start, and instantly as if the universe wants me to know that my life would soon be over, the same suffocating dread that had wrapped itself around me the night before comes crashing down on me again like a wave. I have a business meeting today. Another company looking to score a deal with us. I sigh heavily, rolling off the bed. I make my way to the bathroom. A hot shower might melt this dread off my skin at least, I hope. Once I step out, I choose my outfit with care. A custom-tailored cream pantsuit from Elie Saab, its fabric whisper-soft yet commanding in presence, paired with a matching tailored pencil skirt. A Cartier diamond necklace nestles elegantly against my collarbone, and pearl drop earrings. I also chose a pair of Louboutin heels. Hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, lip stick with blush powder on, and I look gorgeous, even with the simplicity of my makeup. I look every inch the heiress and business mogul-in-the-making. If only I felt half as strong

The Twist

For the first time since my father’s will had thrown my world into emptiness, I find myself enjoying a moment. Normally, I would have just played the passive role, nodding here, offering a courteous question there. But not today. Leaning forward, I lace my fingers together atop the table. “So, Mr Westwood,” I begin, my voice smooth, “tell me, why exactly does Arclight want a partnership with Hartley Holdings?” His jaw tenses ever so slightly. “We’re convinced that your company’s market presence complements our expansion strategy.” I tilt my head, feigning polite curiosity. “Expansion strategy?. Could you elaborate, please?”. Mr Westwood folds his hands together. “We’re targeting emerging markets across Africa and parts of Europe. Your distribution networks offer a significant advantage.” I nod slowly. “Hmm. So you’re looking to use our infrastructure to gain access to territories you haven’t been able to penetrate on your own? ”. His brow lifts. “Leverage is the

The Choice To Make

After a long, gruelling day at the office, I finally get home. The moment the front door clicks shut, I exhale a deep, weary sigh. I start up the staircase, desperate for a hot bath, “Rachel!” Mum’s voice calls. I turn as she approaches me “You’re back,” she says warmly, giving me a brief hug. "Yes, Mum. I’m exhausted. I just want to eat and sleep.” “Before you go to bed, sweetheart, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” I groan inwardly. “Okay, Mum.”I retreat to my room and step into yet another hot shower. It feels… therapeutic. The water cascades down my body, but it can’t wash away the thoughts swirling in my head—mostly about Damian. Am I making the right decision with this arrangement? Is this the only way?. Nevertheless, I'm going to pull through this. I always pull through every and any situation or inconvenience. After my shower, I slip into a silk nightgown just as a knock raps on my door. I open up to find Mum standing with a maid carrying a food

Finalizing

When I arrive at Damian’s office building, one of the receptionists, a lady with sleek dark hair and red nails, stands and offers me a polite nod. “I’ll let Mr. Westwood know you’re here,” she says, her voice smooth like velvet. “Thank you.” I sit down in the reception area, taking in the sight. The walls are a deep grey, adorned with tasteful art that seems expensive.The furniture is sleek, a mixture of polished chrome and soft leather. After a while, the receptionist returns with a smile. "You may go in now.” I rise and walk towards the double oak doors. I knock once before pushing them open. There he is, Damian Westwood. Feet casually propped on his mahogany desk, his chair slightly reclined. The first two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, revealing a peek of ink on his chest. He has a tattoo? He gestures lazily towards the seat opposite him. I sit down, maintaining a composed expression. I hold back the urge to scan his office, the modern bookshelves. I do

Tension

I finished up my last bite of pizza and wiped my hands clean on a napkin. My office was quiet, except for the low hum of my laptop fan. My fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, reciting legal phrases I’d memorized from countless sample contracts.After double-checking every clause, I reached for a sleek black contract folder. I carefully printed the documents, slid them inside the folder, and stapled the final page with a firm press. I stare at the contract lying innocently on my desk. The agreements were standard. Well, almost. Damian's 'public affection' clause stood out like a neon sign. Was this really about keeping up appearances, or was he just planning to amuse himself at my expense? My stomach turned slightly at the thought.I picked up my phone and typed:“I'll be bringing it myself.”The reply came almost immediately.“Cool.”Short. Blunt. Typical Damian.I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. I ran the contract over in my head again. The dates. The terms.

Closure? Or not.

My office felt heavy after Layla left.For a moment, I just stood there staring at the door she had slammed shut.“Layla, that was a waste of your time. I never asked you to do it in the first place. I’m getting married to Damian, and that’s final.”I drop into my chair and lean back, staring at the ceiling. The low hum of the air conditioner fills the room.I’m not telling her about the contract. Layla didn’t need to know that my engagement was built on signatures and clauses instead of love and promises. She was already too involved in my life. “But he’s in love with you, Rachel.” Her voice had sounded confused when she said it.“And I am not in love with him. I think that part is obvious enough.”“You’re being difficult. How do you know this Damian… guy?”“That’s not your business, Layla.”“Are you keeping things from me now?”“That, I am.”“Wow.”“I know, right.”“You’re crazy.”“I know, right.”What upset me most wasn’t even the argument. It was her telling Aiden. Without askin

The Unsaid Clause

Damian is holding a bottle of wine, but he isn’t drinking it. He isn’t even pretending to examine it.He’s staring at me, like he’s marking his territory.Then, slowly, he sets the bottle down.And walks away.Aiden is oblivious to this and he keeps talking.Leaning forward slightly. His tone is softer than it used to be. Almost pleading.I drag my gaze back to him, trying to focus.“Rachel,” he says gently, “would you please give me another chance?”My throat tightens.Because once upon a time, that voice would have made me melt.Once upon a time, I would have leaned forward too.But my mind doesn’t go to sweet memories.It goes to the night I ended things. The way he tried to coerce me into sex. The way he tried to make me feel guilty for saying no.The way he said, “If you really loved me…”I remember how small I felt.How cornered. He didn’t force me physically, but he tried to wear me down emotionally.If he had come earlier… before I met Damian and before the inheritance conditi

Preparations Begin.

“This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.”What is Damian trying to pull?I stare at the revised contract on my tab. The clause was there in bold legal phrasing, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice the shift in wording, and I didn't.My jaw tightens.I grab my phone and dial his number. He picks up at the second ring.“Hey, wifey.”His voice sounded amused, like he’d been expecting my call.“Spare me that bullshit,” I snapped. “What the hell did you do to that clause?”A soft chuckle. “Which one?”“Don’t play dumb with me, Damian.”“Oh,” he says lightly. “That clause.”My grip on the phone tightens. “When did you add that?”“Let’s just say I added a little insurance for myself.”“Insurance?” I spit. “Or are you just trying to humiliate me and entertain yourself?”There was a pause.Then his voice drops.“Rachel, if I decide something belongs to me… then it does.”My stomach twists“Although,” he continued casually, “it was hard to get to you like that. So I had to use the

Breakfast and Ring

I opened my eyes, expecting to hear my alarm blare in about six seconds. Six seconds elapsed. Nothing. Then I remembered. Today is Sunday. I didn't set an alarm for Sundays.I slowly dragged myself off my bed and opened my window, the morning sun peeked through the curtains, painting my bedroom in a golden lining that did little to warm the storm inside me. I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. No matter what, I can't stop thinking about Damian and the wedding in a few days. Damian. The name alone made my pulse quicken. Even after signing the contract, even after telling Mum, even after concluding preparations, my stomach coiled whenever I thought of him. What was that?The sound of my phone buzzing snapped me from my thoughts. A message from Damian: “Breakfast at 9. I'll send a driver to come pick you ”Short. Blunt. Commanding. Typical Damian.I looked at the time. 43 minutes past 7.I exhaled and typed back: “I’ll be there.”I go downstairs to mum's room. She's at her v

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