The Billionaire's Ego: My Ruthless Divorce

Kenton released her arm as if she burned him. Carleigh rubbed the spot where his fingers had dug in. The skin was already turning pink.

He strode to his desk, picked up the divorce papers he had clearly brought with him, and threw them onto the glass surface. They slid across and scattered onto the floor near her feet.

"Explain this," he demanded. "The medical clause. Retract it."

Carleigh looked down at the papers but didn't pick them up. She leaned back against the door, crossing her arms. "Why? Is it inaccurate?"

"I do not have erectile dysfunction!" Kenton shouted. He ran a hand through his hair, destroying his perfect grooming. "After that first night, I chose not to touch you again. There is a difference."

"A distinction without a difference to a judge," Carleigh said calmly. "Three years of celibacy in a marriage creates a presumption. Unless you want to undergo a court-ordered medical exam? Or perhaps testify that you were withholding affection as a form of emotional abuse? Take your pick, Kenton. The ED story makes you look sympathetic. The truth makes you look like a monster."

Kenton stared at her. He looked baffled, as if the office furniture had suddenly started speaking Latin. He had never seen this Carleigh. The Carleigh he knew stuttered when he raised his voice.

"You think you're clever," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. "But you forgot one thing. The pre-nup."

"I waived my right to your assets. I know."

"Not that part." Kenton sat on the edge of his desk, towering over her even from a distance. "The employment clause. Your father's debt was consolidated into a loan from Parker Industries. You work it off. If you quit before the term is up-which is another two years-the full amount becomes due immediately. Plus a five million dollar breach-of-contract penalty."

Carleigh felt her stomach drop. She had forgotten the specific penalty number. Five million.

"You don't have five million dollars, Carleigh," Kenton said softly. A cruel smirk played on his lips. "Your father doesn't have five dollars. So, unless you want to go to prison for fraud, or see your father on the street, you will sit at that desk, you will answer my phones, and you will tear up these divorce papers."

He thought he had her. He thought she was trapped.

Carleigh's heart hammered against her ribs. But then she remembered the email in her encrypted folder. The commission offer from the Atelier. The fee for the restoration of the Raphael sketch was... substantial. And her backlog of royalties as "Vee" was sitting in a Swiss account she hadn't touched for three years to avoid suspicion.

She didn't have the money right now in her US account. But she could get it.

She looked him in the eye. "You really are pathetic, aren't you? You have to use a contract to force a woman to stay in the same room as you."

Kenton flinched. The smirk vanished. "I am giving you a reality check."

"I'll pay it," Carleigh said.

Kenton laughed. "With what? Are you going to sell your kidneys?"

"That's none of your business. Send the invoice to my lawyer." She turned for the door.

The intercom on his desk buzzed. It was Benjamin, his executive assistant. "Sir? Miss Donovan is on line one. She says she's in pain."

Kenton's face softened instantly. The transformation was nauseating. He reached for the phone, his anger at Carleigh forgotten in a split second. "Put her through."

Carleigh felt bile rise in her throat. She unlocked the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kenton barked, holding the receiver to his chest.

"To find five million dollars," Carleigh said. "Enjoy your phone sex."

She walked out.