Chapter 1

Prologue

Seven years ago, I signed a marriage contract with his mother to save my dying father. That was how I became Damian Sterling’s wife.

In the beginning, he treated me like his entire world.

Until he found that contract. Convinced my love had been nothing more than a calculated scam, Damian turned into a monster.

From that day on, he broke me over and over. Losing two of our unborn babies wasn't enough to earn a shred of his pity.

Then came my third pregnancy. At a high-society charity gala, I caught him tangled up with another woman.

She shoved me to the ground, killing our third child.

Standing in my own blood, I finally broke free of the illusion.

This marriage had cost me seven years and three children. It was time for it to end.

Clara’s POV

It was my seventh year married to Damian Sterling. I was three months pregnant with our third child.

Everyone in this city knew how our marriage started.

Seven years ago, my father, George Vance, suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. He lay comatose in the ICU. The doctors warned me that the surgery and post-op care would be a bottomless pit of medical debt—without immediate cash, he wouldn't survive a month.

That was when Damian’s mother, Eleanor, cornered me. She slid a contract across the polished table.

If I married Damian, the Sterling family would cover every cent of my father’s medical bills.

I signed it.

For the first six months, Damian truly cherished me.

Then he dug that agreement out of his mother’s study, and the man I knew vanished overnight.

He started parading different women into our penthouse, laughing and wrapping his arms around them right in front of me.

I lost two babies because of him.

One was lost when he shoved me against the sharp corner of his mahogany desk.

The other froze to death inside me after he locked me out in the freezing autumn rain all night.

This third baby... I really thought I could protect it.

Until the Sterling Charity Gala.

The ballroom was packed with glittering guests.

A socialite walked up with a glass of champagne, eyeing my belly. "How many months along are you, Clara? You're so lucky. Damian is young, powerful, and such a devoted family man."

I offered a polite smile, saying nothing.

I wandered through the crowd holding a glass of juice. My lower back ached with a dull, throbbing heaviness, and I rested a hand against it.

Damian was nowhere to be seen. I tracked down Mike, the head butler.

Mike’s eyes darted away nervously. "Mr. Sterling stepped into the garden lounge, ma'am."

I walked down the quiet gallery and pushed open the lounge doors.

Two figures were tangled on the velvet sofa.

Hearing the door, Damian looked up.

Bianca Frost shrieked, lashing out with a violent shove.

I stumbled backward. My lower back slammed into the sharp edge of the marble coffee table, followed instantly by the blunt impact against my stomach.

A tearing, agonizing pain exploded through my abdomen.

I looked down. Dark crimson blossomed beneath the hem of my gown, spreading wider and wider across the floor.

Drawn by the scream, guests swarmed into the lounge.

Damian stepped out from behind the sofa, calmly buttoning his cuffs.

He didn't spare me a single glance.

He pulled a black Amex card from his designer wallet and tossed it into the puddle of blood pooling beneath me.

"Isn't money all you care about?"

His tone was dead flat.

"Take it and get lost."

Gasps rippled through the room.

One woman gasped and pulled out her phone to call 911, but someone beside her grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

This was a Sterling gala. Nobody dared cross Damian.

A member of the Sterling family muttered under their breath, "Living like this... they might as well get a divorce."

Pressing my palms flat against the cold marble, I pushed myself up.

My dress was soaked in blood, but there wasn't a single tear on my face.

I looked at the relative who had spoken, my voice as calm as if I were talking about a stranger. "You're right. It's time to end it."

Bianca put on a show of coming forward to support me, leaning close to my ear.

Yet her voice rang out loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Clara only married into the family for her father’s medical bills anyway, didn't she?"

Dead silence fell over the hall.

The truth—that I had sold myself for my father's life—was laid bare before the city's elite.

I didn't deny it.

I picked up my clutch from the floor, turned around, and walked out into the night.

Not a single soul followed me.

I drove myself to the hospital.

Blood soaked through my seat, running down my bare thighs the entire drive. I kept both hands clamped on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the asphalt ahead, refuse to cry.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room were blindingly white.

The doctor pulled down his mask, gave me a heavy look, and sighed. "We couldn't save the baby. You need to be admitted for observation."

I nodded quietly.

Lying in the sterile hospital bed, the anesthesia hadn't fully worn off.

I stared up at the strip lights, remembering the hospital corridor from seven years ago.

Damian's mother had sat across from me, sliding that contract forward.

I had picked up the pen without trembling.

That pen had been heavy.

Heavy enough to crush seven years of my life.