The Wife Who Built His Empire
Chapter 3
Damian's POV
The first thing that woke me at 11:00 AM was a pounding hangover and the persistent chiming of my phone on the nightstand.
Groaning, I reached for the device. An urgent automated notification from the County Family Law Court System sat right at the top of my lock screen.
Frowning through my blurred vision, I tapped the notification open.
NOTICE OF ELECTRONIC FILING & CONSENT DECREE
Case No. 2026-FL-0892
Petitioner: Clara Vance
Respondent: Damian Sterling
Status: Uncontested Divorce & Custody Transfer Submitted (Signed & Verified)
I stared at the screen, my mind completely blank. I blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of the words.
Signed & Verified?
Memory flashed back to 4:00 AM—standing in the dim living room, drunk, irritable, and hastily scribbling my signature on the folder Clara held out without reading a single line.
Cold sweat drenched my shirt. I threw off the covers and ran through the house, shouting her name.
"Clara! Clara, where are you?!"
No answer.
I slammed open the twins' bedroom door—their closets were bare, their clothes gone, their toys nowhere to be seen. I ran to the living room; the family photo on the mantel sat face down. I rushed to my home office and opened the local drive, only to see system prompts flashing across the monitor: DIRECTORY WIPED. ACCESS DENIED.
My hands shook violently. She hadn't just left—she had trapped me into signing away my children, my marriage, and my assets while I was drunk at four in the morning.
Before I could process the horror, my phone chimed loudly with an automated calendar alert: CITY BOARD REVIEW — 11:30 AM.
I looked at the clock. It was 11:05 AM.
"Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist onto the desk.
My head throbbed, but I didn't have time to process the divorce decree or search for my family. The $50 million Opera House contract was twenty-five minutes away. If I missed this meeting, Sterling Designs would be ruined before the end of the week.
I threw on a suit jacket, grabbed my car keys, and sped toward the office like a madman.
When I burst into Sterling Designs at 11:25 AM, my first stop was Clara's office down the hall. I slammed the door open, praying she was sitting there so I could demand answers. But the room was completely bare—spotless, wiped clean, as if she had never worked there a day in her life.
"Damian, the board is waiting in the conference room," Sienna’s soft voice called out from behind me.
I turned around quickly, trying to smooth down my hair and hide the frantic panic consuming me.
"Right. Let's go," I said, forcing my voice to stay even.
As we walked down the corridor, I pulled out my tablet and tried to open the master blueprint file Clara had prepared weeks ago. A dark red pop-up covered the screen: MASTER PERMISSION REVOKED BY LICENSE HOLDER.
My stomach twisted into knots.
"Sienna," I whispered, my voice tight as we stopped outside the conference room doors. "Are you completely ready to present the technical restoration plans?"
"More than ready, Boss," she said with a bright, confident smile, holding her folder close.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod. She has to pull this off.
When we entered the grand conference room, five senior board members were already seated around the long oak table, looking at their watches. After brief, tense greetings, the lights dimmed, and Sienna stepped up to the projector.
"Good afternoon, distinguished board members," she began, clicking through the opening slide.
I sat in my chair, wringing my hands under the table. The slides looked visually impressive, but the moment the presentation ended and the Q&A began, everything fell apart.
Mr. Vance, the lead city engineer, leaned forward and tapped his pen on his notepad. "Miss Sienna, what specific structural framework did you use to calculate the load-bearing requirements for the historic archway?"
Sienna's smile froze. "I... um... I searched for the standard guidelines online."
A low, horrified whisper rippled through the room.
"Online?" Mr. Vance scoffed, his expression hardening. "This is a $50 million municipal historical restoration. Did you actually design these calculations yourself?"
"I... it's sort of complex," Sienna stammered, looking toward me with pleading eyes.
"Complex?" another board member interjected, leaning over the table. "She can't even answer basic entry-level structural questions! Who actually drafted this proposal?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but Mr. Harrison, the head of the City Board, stood up and buttoned his jacket.
"Mr. Sterling, you have brought an incompetent assistant to present a high-stakes city project. You have wasted our time and insulted this board."
"Mr. Harrison, please," I pleaded, standing up with cold sweat running down my neck. "It's a minor internal communication error—"
"Fix this immediately," Mr. Harrison cut in coldly. "You have 48 hours to produce the actual lead architect and the verified structural licenses. If you fail, we will revoke the contract and award it to Vanguard Holdings."
The board members gathered their files and walked out, slamming the heavy doors behind them.
I stood in the silent room, my chest heaving as I turned to glare at Sienna. "You told me you planned those slides! You told me Clara stole your ideas!"
"I'm sorry, Damian!" Sienna burst into tears, stepping toward me with her hands shaking. "I just wanted to impress you—"
"Get the fuck out!" I roared.
She flinched violently and ran out of the room, crying into her hands.
I collapsed into a leather chair, staring down at my phone with trembling hands. I dialed Clara's number again, hoping against hope she would answer.
The number you have dialed is no longer in service.
I dropped the phone onto the mahogany table. The realization hit me like a physical blow—I hadn't just lost the $50 million blueprint.
I had lost my lead architect, my company's foundation, my children, and my wife—all in a single morning.
You may also like
