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A Love 32 Years Apart Novel Cover

A Love 32 Years Apart

Driven by financial gain, a young woman enters a marriage with a man thirty-two years her senior. Following their divorce, she emerges as the wealthiest individual in the city, having secured his entire fortune. Her success is short-lived when her ex-husband is found dead from an apparent drowning. As the authorities label her the primary suspect in a murder investigation, she must navigate a dangerous web of suspicion and billionaire secrets to clear her name.
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Chapter 3

Contract

I caught that look, and for a brief moment, I was frightened enough to quit my job right there and then. His friends chased me off, but then a husky voice asked me, "What's your name?"

"Jessica Tillman."

The frown on Clarence's forehead smoothed over. "Decent name."

I wondered what that meant as I leaned my body closer to his arm and gently introduced the liquor to him.

Clarence took the liquor and evaded my body. "You work here?"

'Huh, so he's an aloof type,' I thought. "Just part-time," I said.

"Selling liquor?"

"Yes."

Clarence frowned again. "How much do you make a month?"

"It's a commission-based job."

Clarence tapped the bottle. "How much do you make from selling one of these?"

I raised three fingers.

"How many do you have left?"

I was taken aback but quickly snapped out of it. "It's a bestseller, so we only have ten of these left. We do have our pride and joy, though. It costs this much." I gesticulated.

Clarence didn't even blink, and he gave me a black card. "I'll get all of them."

'What?' I was shocked. 'Holy shit, this is my lucky night!' I asked Clarence if he was sure about this, and he said yes. So, I quickly told the manager to get the liquor.

When the 750-thousand-dollar whisky was brought out, my colleagues and I stared at it fervently. I'd been working in this bar for a few months. My colleagues and I tried to sell the whisky off, but no one would ever buy it.

The rich were not stupid. Any liquor that cost this much was usually kept in a collection, not haphazardly placed in a bar for sale. 'Yep, older men are both rich and gullible.'

I stared at Clarence, the passion in my eyes flaring. My colleague was even worse. She was practically taking off her clothes as she tried to plaster herself all over Clarence.

Clarence dodged her attempts and waved at me. "This is a low-value job. Want to work with me?"

"Given that you're implying a high-value job is waiting for me…"

"Fifteen million a year."

I almost stopped breathing.

"Your job is to marry me."

'Well, shit.' I almost tripped over myself, and I raised my hand weakly. "I-I'm just eighteen. I can't get married yet."

Clarence looked at the layers of makeup on my face and the clothes that barely cladded me. He massaged his forehead and fell into his thoughts. After all, I had the body and the look of a mature woman. Of course, that was after I donned some makeup.

Clarence took off his shirt and handed it to me, telling me to cover myself up. "We'll get married in two years, then."

I stole a glance at his perfect body. Then, I caressed his silk shirt. The shirt was too long for me, so I I tied a bow on my waist with the hem of the shirt before asking, "And my benefits?"

"As per the law."

I almost went on my knee and swore eternal fealty to Clarence. "Yes, boss!" I said.

I had no idea Clarence was Ashington's richest man. He looked like a regular, rich old guy. The offer must be a joke. I had assumed I'd only be getting a million at most.

When I found out Clarence's age, I thought maybe I could even host his funeral a few years after we got married. Then, I'd inherit his wealth and become a mega-rich woman.

He was probably failing down there, but at least he was handsome. It definitely didn't hurt that he had muscles. I had no qualms about sleeping with him. It was like winning the lottery. So, I signed the contract and happily moved into Clarence's manor.

The butler assigned me a three-bedroom.

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