No Escape: The Billionaire Won't Sign
I returned to New York with two scuffed suitcases and a broken heart, ready to end my three-year exile as a ghost wife. All I wanted was to sign the divorce papers, move my dying mother to hospice, and vanish from the billionaire Spears family forever.
But the moment I stepped into the penthouse, I saw a pair of expensive red-bottomed heels by the door that weren't mine. Carlyle, the husband who hadn't spoken to me in years, was already moving his mistress into our home before the ink on our separation agreement was even dry.
The humiliation was only the beginning. Carlyle treated me like an intruder in my own house, yet he forced me to attend high-society galas as his "perfect" wife to protect his reputation. When I tried to leave, he froze my bank accounts, leaving me unable to pay for my mother’s life-saving treatment. He watched my desperation with cold, predatory eyes, flaunting his new romance in the tabloids while keeping me trapped in his freezing home. My mother’s doctors warned me she was running out of time, but Carlyle only used her illness as a leash to keep me from running.
I didn't understand why he was doing this to me. I had clearly signed away the money and the name, so why wouldn't he let me go? Why did he have me watched for years if he hated me so much? Why was he flaunting another woman while refusing to sign the papers that would set us both free? What did he want from a woman he claimed to despise?
When I finally cornered him with the final decree, Carlyle didn't pick up the pen. He snatched the folder, a flicker of cold triumph in his icy eyes.
"The terms are wrong, Beatrix. I'm adding an employment clause. You’re going to work for me, in my office, where I can keep you under my thumb 24/7."
He didn't just refuse to sign the papers; he had just turned my divorce into a permanent prison sentence.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 10
Sunlight streamed through the hospital blinds, harsh and unforgiving.
Beatrix woke with a stiff neck.
She walked out to the hallway.
Carlyle was asleep.
His head was tipped back against the wall, his mouth slightly open.
He looked younger like this. Less dangerous.
Beatrix felt a pang in her chest.
She took off her cardigan and walked over to him.
She was about to drape it over his legs when his eyes snapped open.
He flinched, sitting up straight instantly.
"I'm awake," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
"I brought you coffee," she said, holding out a paper cup she had just bought.
He took it. Their fingers didn't touch this time.
"Thanks."
"Silas is coming," she said.
Carlyle froze, the cup halfway to his mouth.
"Who?"
"Your lawyer. I called him. Since you're here, and I'm here... we can sign the final papers."
Carlyle's expression darkened.
"Here? In a hospital corridor?"
"Why not? It's neutral ground."
"It's tacky," he spat.
"It's necessary. You promised my mother you'd protect me. The best protection you can give me is my freedom."
Carlyle stood up. He towered over her.
"I have a board meeting," he said.
"You said that yesterday."
"It was rescheduled. To now."
"You're lying," she said. "You just don't want to sign."
"Why wouldn't I want to sign?" he laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I have a wedding to plan, remember?"
"Then sign!"
The elevator dinged.
Silas Vance stepped out, looking out of place in his Italian suit, holding a leather briefcase.
"Good morning," Silas said, looking nervously between them. "Beatrix, you called?"
"Yes," Beatrix said. "Give me the papers."
Silas opened his briefcase.
Carlyle moved faster than she thought possible.
He snatched the folder from Silas's hands.
He opened it, scanned the first page for two seconds, and then slammed it shut.
"We can't sign this," Carlyle said, his voice firm and final.
"What?" Beatrix demanded. "Why not? Everything is there."
"No, it's not," Carlyle said, turning to his lawyer. "Silas, did you attach the certified copy of the original marriage license from the state archives?"
"Sir," Silas stammered, caught off guard. "The standard court filing only requires the license number and date, which we have. The original is..."
"The original is in the vault at the estate," Carlyle cut him off smoothly. "And according to the terms of the prenuptial agreement, Article 14, Section B, any dissolution requires the physical presentation of the original certificate, notarized by both parties. A security measure my grandfather insisted upon."
Silas paled. "My apologies, sir. I overlooked that specific clause. It's an archaic requirement..."
"Redraft it," Carlyle ordered, shoving the folder back at him. "And schedule a time for us to visit the vault. Together."
"But that will take days!" Beatrix cried. "You know the vault requires 48 hours' notice and your grandfather's presence!"
"Then wait days," Carlyle said.
He checked his watch-a Patek Philippe that cost more than her college tuition.
"I have to go. My driver is downstairs."
"You are unbelievable," Beatrix said, her voice shaking with rage. "You are stalling."
Carlyle buttoned his coat.
He leaned in close to her ear.
"I'm a businessman, Beatrix. I don't sign incomplete contracts."
"I'm an incomplete contract?"
"Right now?" He looked at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a fraction of a second. "You're a liability."
He turned and walked toward the elevators.
"Call my secretary!" he shouted over his shoulder.
The elevator doors closed, swallowing him.
Beatrix stood there, fists clenched.
He wasn't letting her go.
She realized it with a terrifying clarity.
He was going to drag this out until she broke.
She looked at Silas.
"Give me the file," she demanded.
"I can't," Silas said, clutching it to his chest. "Client privilege."
Beatrix laughed. It was a manic sound.
"Fine," she said. "Keep your file."
She turned back to her mother's room.
If he wanted a war, she would give him one.
She wasn't the scared little girl he married anymore.
She was a gray rock.
And a gray rock could wait. It could endure. It would still be there long after the glass house shattered.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
8.5
I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground.
8.1
I was supposed to be the lucky one, the bankrupt Beaumont heiress engaged to Devyn Langley, the golden boy of Boston's elite.
But the moment I landed from Europe, my best friend shoved a high-definition photo in my face. It was Devyn, tangled in white sheets with another woman.
I didn't cry. Instead, I planted hidden cameras in his secret Manhattan penthouse and heard the disgusting truth.
"When are you going to dump that boring bitch?" his mistress whined.
"Soon. As soon as her family's final trust fund payout clears. Then I'll toss her out like trash," Devyn laughed.
To add insult to injury, he removed me from the guest list of his family's charity gala.
When I showed up anyway, his mother pointed a shaking finger at my face in front of the entire upper crust.
"You are a charity case! A beggar! Get out!" she screamed, while Devyn demanded I get on my knees and apologize.
They paraded around like saints, using my family's tragedy for good PR while secretly plotting to steal my last penny and destroy me.
Did they really think I was just a weak, compliant fiancée who would quietly accept her ruin?
Wearing a blood-red dress, I hacked the ballroom's main screen and broadcasted his 4K sex tape to every billionaire and reporter in the room.
Then, I threw my five-carat ring at his chest and walked away with Kian Koch—the most terrifying man on Wall Street—leaving the Langley empire to burn.
7.9
On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call.
He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar.
In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave.
But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund.
They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime.
I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess.
The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street.
"The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."
9.3
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.
7.1
After the one-night stand with a man who refused to tell her his name, Charlotte would figure out on TV that the man she had s*x with the previous night was the heir to a billionaire empire.
At the same time, Jace Norman-the infamous playboy heir-faces a public scandal that threatens his inheritance. To protect the family empire, his ruthless father forces him into an immediate contract marriage.
And just like that Charlotte would get married to the spoiled, reckless son of the most powerful billionaire in the city.
That One night, Room 55 and Five thousand dollars she desperately needed would change her life forever.
Weeks later, Charlotte discovers she's pregnant.
But before she can process the truth, her manipulative boyfriend claims the child is his and begins blackmailing her.
As their fake marriage becomes dangerously possessive, secrets begin to spiral. An ex-boyfriend demanding money. Jace's jealous college lover is determined to destroy Charlotte. Charlotte's sister is hiding betrayal behind sweet smiles. And a billionaire father who will eliminate anyone to protect the Norman name.
When a forged DNA test claims the baby isn't Jace's, the empire turns on Charlotte.
But the truth is far darker than any of them realize.
Because someone has been orchestrating every lie from the beginning.
And when Jace finally discovers the baby is his...
He will have to choose between his father's empire-
Or the woman carrying his heir.
9.8
Haylee always thought she belonged to the wealthy Bowen family.
But on the night of her birthday, her younger sister Cynthia handed her a crushing DNA report, sneered that she was taking her trust fund and fiancé, and shoved her violently off the yacht into the freezing Atlantic.
Washing ashore on a dark island, Haylee was brutally assaulted by a drugged stranger.
When she was finally rescued, she stared at a tiny television screen in absolute horror.
Her adoptive father was calmly declaring her mentally unstable and officially dead to the press.
Meanwhile, Cynthia was on screen flaunting a massive diamond ring from Haylee's own fiancé, inheriting everything that was rightfully hers.
Discarded like trash, stripped of her identity, and suddenly pregnant with a stranger's child, Haylee was forced to flee the country with nothing but a heavy silver signet ring she found in the dark.
She never understood how the family she had loved and trusted for years could erase her existence so ruthlessly.
"Are we going to see the bad people who bullied you, Mom?"
Five years later, Haylee stepped off a plane at JFK Airport, holding the hand of her genius five-year-old son.
She was no longer a helpless victim, but a top-tier medical director holding the key to a billion-dollar empire.
"We aren't running anymore," Haylee said softly, her voice laced with steel. "We're here to take everything back."