All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Last Clause : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Amelia's POVThe divorce papers sat on the marble counter like though it’s a death sentence.My fingers trembled as I traced the edge of the document, unable to focus on the words that blurred behind my tears. Rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, each drop sounded like a gunshot in the suffocating silence. The city sprawled below us, indifferent and glittering, a thousand lives continuing while mine shattered."Sign it." Daniel's voice cut through the tension hanging between us, cold and final.I looked up at him, this man I'd loved with every broken piece of myself. He stood across the kitchen island, perfectly pressed in his charcoal suit, checking his watch like I was just another appointment running long. The watch I'd given him for our first anniversary—engraved with words that now felt like mockery. Forever yours."Daniel, please." My voice cracked. "Can't we just talk about this?""There's nothing to talk about." He didn't meet my eyes. "The marr

Daniel’s POVThe study door remained closed.I sat behind my mahogany desk, staring at the amber liquid in my glass. The scotch burned going down, but not enough to erase the hollow ache settling in my chest.Logical, I reminded myself. This was logical.I'd spent the last hour running numbers on my laptop, reviewing projections for the Crane Enterprises merger. The figures were impressive—market expansion, increased revenue, strategic positioning that would cement Sterling Holdings as the dominant force in commercial real estate. Everything I'd worked for. Everything that mattered.So why did my penthouse feel like a mausoleum?I took another drink and forced myself to focus on the screen. Lydia had sent the updated contract terms an hour ago. Her email was brief, professional, with a single line at the end: Looking forward to our partnership.Partnership. The word felt heavier than it should.A soft sound came from the hallway—barely audible over the rain. My hand tightened around t

Amelia’s POVThe 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

Amelia’s POVMy laptop screen glows in the darkness of my studio apartment, the only light source at two in the morning.Thank you for your application. Unfortunately, we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.I deleted the email without reading the rest. It’s the fourteenth rejection this week, each one a variation of the same polite dismissal.My cursor hovers over the next job posting—receptionist at a dental office, minimum wage, no benefits. I click anyway, filling out the same information I’ve entered twenty times before.Employment History: 2019-2022.The three-year gap stares back at me. Sterling Household Manager sounds pretentious. Homemaker sounds outdated. A professional wife is honest but unmarketable.I leave it blank and hit submit.The apartment feels smaller at night. Harper went home hours ago after forcing me to eat something that wasn’t instant noodles, leaving behind encouraging sticky notes plastered around the space.“You’re stronger than you think!”

Amelia’s povMonday morning, my phone starts buzzing at six-seventeen, jerking me out of restless sleep.One notification. Then five. Then twenty. Then so many that the screen becomes an endless scroll of alerts, each one a fresh knife wound.“Sterling CEO Divorces Mystery Wife”The headline stares at me from three different news apps, and my stomach drops so fast I think I might actually be sick.No. No, no, no.I tap the first article with shaking hands, and there it is—my entire life, dissected and displayed for public consumption.Daniel Sterling, CEO of Sterling Holdings, has finalized his divorce from wife Amelia Hart Sterling after three years of marriage. The divorce, filed six weeks ago citing irreconcilable differences, became public record today. Little is known about Hart, who maintained an extremely low profile during the marriage…There’s a photo. God, there’s a photo. Me leaving a grocery store, hair in a messy bun, wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater. I look ti