The Billionaire's Secret Heir: Sign the Divorce

The silence in the office was absolute. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning and the pounding of Claudia's own heart in her ears.

Ezequiel didn't even pick up the papers. He glanced at the red numbers on the top sheet, his expression bored.

"No," he said.

"You haven't even looked at the terms," Claudia said, her voice rising. "We can offer collateral. The estate in the Hamptons. The art collection."

"The Valentine Group is a black hole," Ezequiel said, leaning back in his chair. "I've had my analysts look at it. Throwing money at your father's company is like setting it on fire."

"It's a bridge loan," she pleaded. "Just until the new product line launches. Please, Ezequiel. My father... he's in the ICU."

Ezequiel's eyes flickered, but his jaw remained set. "I heard. I'm sorry about that. But business is business."

He picked up the documents she had placed on his desk. He walked over to the shredder in the corner of the room.

"Don't," she gasped.

He fed the papers into the machine. The grinding noise tore through the room, screeching like a dying animal. She watched as the only hope for her family turned into confetti.

"You have nothing to offer as collateral, Claudia," he said over the noise. "Everything your family owns is already mortgaged to the hilt."

He turned off the machine and walked toward her. He stopped inches away, looming over her. He reached out and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him.

"Unless," he said softly, "you agree to sign the divorce papers today. Right now. And waive any claim to alimony or asset division."

Her heart stopped. He was blackmailing her.

"If I sign," she whispered, "you'll save the company?"

"I'll inject the capital personally," he said. "Your father keeps his reputation. You walk away with nothing but your freedom."

Claudia's hand drifted to her stomach. If she signed, she would be destitute. She would have no way to support this baby. But if she didn't, her father would go to prison, and the stress might kill him.

"Okay," she said, the word tasting like ash. "I'll sign."

Ezequiel looked surprised. He let go of her chin. "Good."

Just then, the intercom on his desk buzzed.

He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Ms. Burris on line one, sir," the receptionist's voice crackled. "She says it's urgent. She's... she says she's bleeding."

Ezequiel's face transformed instantly. The cold, hard mask dropped, replaced by genuine worry. He grabbed the phone receiver.

"Alexa? What's wrong?"

Claudia stood there, frozen, listening to the one-sided conversation.

"Pain? How bad? ... Okay. Stay calm. I'm coming. I'm leaving right now. Don't move."

He slammed the phone down and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He didn't even look at Claudia. He was already moving toward the door.

"Wait!" She stepped in front of him. "What about the loan? The agreement?"

"Move, Claudia," he snarled. "She might be losing the baby."

Claudia's breath hitched. Baby? Alexa was claiming to be pregnant?

"My father is in a coma!" Claudia shouted, the irony burning her throat. "We had a deal! You can't just leave!"

She grabbed his arm. It was a reflex, a desperate attempt to hold him to his word.

Ezequiel looked down at her hand on his sleeve with pure disgust. He jerked his arm back, shoving her away.

"I said move!"

He didn't mean to push her that hard. She knew that. But she was weak from hunger, dizzy from the pregnancy hormones, and wearing heels on a polished marble floor.

Claudia stumbled backward. Her hip caught the sharp corner of his heavy glass desk.

Pain exploded in her side. A sharp, tearing sensation ripped through her lower abdomen.

She cried out and crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball, clutching her stomach.

"My baby," she whimpered, the words too quiet for him to hear.

Ezequiel stopped at the door. He looked back at her, sprawled on the carpet. For a second, she saw hesitation in his eyes.

Then he sneered.

"Stop acting," he said coldly. "It's pathetic. I am never going to love you, Claudia. No matter how many times you fall down."

He opened the door and walked out.

Claudia lay on the floor, the pain pulsing in waves. She was terrified to move, terrified to check if there was blood.

Mr. Sterling appeared in the doorway. He looked at her, then at the empty corridor where his boss had disappeared. His face softened.

He walked over and knelt beside her. "Mrs. Sanford? Are you alright?"

He offered her a glass of water from the side table.

She pushed it away, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to sit up. She checked. No blood. Not yet.

"Tell him," she rasped, clutching the edge of the desk to pull herself to her feet. "Tell him I will sign the papers. But the money has to be in the account first."

Sterling nodded slowly. "I'll relay the message."

Claudia limped out of the office, holding her stomach. The sun outside was blinding, but she felt nothing but a deep, bone-chilling cold.