All Chapters of The Divorce Clause: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

The champagne glass shattered against the marble floor, and Clara Blackwood watched the pieces scatter across the polished white stone.No one noticed. The gala was too loud, too bright, too full of people pretending to be important. Damian stood ten feet away, one hand resting on Elena's waist, the other holding a glass of scotch he hadn't touched all night. He was laughing at something the mayor said. Elena was laughing too, her head tilted at that practiced angle, her emerald dress catching the light.Clara smoothed the front of her own dress. Simple. Black. Nothing like Elena's green—Damian's favorite color, a detail Clara had filed away three years ago and never forgotten.She walked toward them.The crowd parted. Not because they knew who she was—most of them didn't—but because a woman in black walking with purpose toward a man with his mistress is a scene no one wants to miss.Damian saw her when she was five feet away. His eyes flickered. Not guilt. Annoyance."Clara," he said

Damian didn't go home that night.He went to the office instead—the one place he still understood. The building was empty at midnight, lights off, cleaners gone. He sat in the dark and pulled up everything he had on Sterling Group.Richard Sterling. Founder. Reclusive. Widowed twenty years ago. One child: Clara Elizabeth Sterling.That was it. That was all anyone had.No board meeting photos. No press releases. No charity galas. The heir to the largest private fortune in the country had lived like a ghost for a decade, and no one had noticed.Because she had been living with him.Damian pressed his fists against his desk. Four years. Four years of her making his coffee, organizing his files, sitting across from him at dinner while he answered emails and ignored her. She had asked him once—he remembered now—what he would do if she weren't there. He had laughed and said he'd hire a housekeeper.He hadn't meant it. Had he?He pulled out his phone. Called her again. Straight to voicemail.

Damian drove straight to his office and locked the door. He opened his safe and pulled out the file he had been building for two days.It wasn't much. A handful of emails. A bank transfer with Elena's name on it. A photograph of her meeting Marcus in a restaurant three years ago—before she had ever "accidentally" run into Damian at a charity event.He laid it all out on his desk. Three years of his life, reduced to a stack of papers.He called Clara. She answered on the second ring."I have it. Emails. Transfers. Photos. I can send it now.""Send it.""I'd rather bring it in person.""No." Her voice was sharp. "Send it. I'll review it with my team. If it's real, I'll call you."He wanted to argue. But he had learned one thing in two days: Clara didn't respond to what he wanted anymore."Fine. Check your email."He hung up, scanned every page, and sent it. Then he sat and waited.Clara read the file twice. The first time alone. The second time with Mira and two lawyers in the conferenc

Clara's conference room was smaller than her office, but the table was just as long. Damian sat at one end. Clara at the other. Mira in the middle, laptop open."Peter," Clara said. "Walk me through it."Damian slid a folder across the table. "Four years ago, he was hired as my assistant. Before that, he worked at Vance Industries. Mid-level.""Except he was already on Marcus's payroll.""Two months before he applied. Marcus planted him the same way he planted Elena. One to monitor my business, one to monitor my marriage."Clara opened the folder. Bank records. Emails. A photo of Peter meeting Marcus in a parking garage."He's been careful," she said. "Small transfers. No patterns.""Until now. When I started digging into Marcus, he panicked. Last transfer was three days ago. Fifty thousand. Memo line said 'consulting.'"Mira looked up. "Enough to prove he's on Marcus's payroll. Not enough to prove he knew about the miscarriage.""He knew." Damian's jaw tightened. "He took the call. H

Clara didn't sleep either. She sat in her office with Mira, the recording playing on repeat."He wants the Cayman codes," Mira said. "That means he knows about the account.""He knows about an account. Not the account." Clara leaned back. "The Caymans have three Sterling holdings. Two are decoys. One is real. If Marcus moves against a decoy, he exposes himself.""And if he moves against the real one?""He won't. Not unless Damian gives him the codes. And Damian doesn't have them."Mira frowned. "That gives us a month.""Less. Marcus is impatient." Clara stood. "We need to flip Peter before Marcus realizes we're onto him.""How?""Everyone has something they don't want the world to know. Find his."Peter was at his desk at seven, as always. Coffee in hand. Files organized. Calm.Damian walked past him without a word."Sir? The lawyers called. They want to know about the board vote.""Tell them I'm handling it.""Of course, sir." Peter hesitated. "Sir, is everything all right? You seem