Signed Mrs. Sterling Chapter 04
Harrison toyed with the pen, looking at me like a lamb ripe for slaughter.
“Julianne, don’t forget, you were the one who begged me to let you have this child. You said he was your everything.”
He was right.
That was five years ago. Vanessa had just posted a photo from her solo concert in a European hall with the caption: “A dream come true.”
That night, Harrison got blackout drunk and used me as her stand-in.
When I found out I was pregnant, Harrison’s first move was to have his lawyer schedule a procedure at a clinic.
The doctor told me, “Mrs. Sterling, the lining of your uterus is very thin. This might be your only chance to have a child.”
To keep Henry, I sacrificed nearly all my dignity and signed that brutal prenup. I was naive enough to think a child could melt this iceberg of a man.
But the reality was, Harrison only loved Vanessa.
Vanessa was the daughter of the Sterling family’s housekeeper, a “scholarship girl” Harrison had sponsored. A classic story of the poor girl and the rich boy.
Years ago, Vanessa had rejected Harrison’s proposal to chase her piano dreams in Europe, to “see the world,” leaving Harrison with endless regret and the perfect image of the one that got away.
I snapped back to reality, looking at the man in front of me—still handsome, but now utterly repulsive.
“Henry adores Vanessa, just like you do,” I said calmly. “After the divorce, you two can play the perfect ‘nuclear family.’ Isn’t that the ending you’ve always wanted?”
Harrison narrowed his eyes, then a cruel smile touched his lips, as if he’d just heard the world’s funniest joke.
“Julianne, if you think this radical move of ‘giving up custody’ will force me to get rid of Vanessa, you’re even more naive than I thought.”
“You already tried playing hard to get five years ago.”
He suddenly sat up straight, his tone turning venomous.
“Fine. I’ll give you what you want. But since you love money so much, let’s add another clause to the agreement—without my written permission, you are not to come within a hundred feet of Henry, nor can you mention in any media that you are his mother. I don’t want him to be negatively influenced.”
It was a kill shot. He wanted to see me break down, to see me on my knees, begging.
The old me would probably have fainted from grief. But now? I just felt relief.
Henry was no longer the fragile preemie who needed my protection. He was the future heir to the Sterling empire, and he’d already learned to look at me with his father’s contempt. Since he chose the “cool aunt,” let him enjoy that boundary-free love.
Under Harrison’s shocked gaze, I uncapped a pen and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed my name next to the supplementary clause: Julianne Miller.
The nib scratched across the paper, the sound of my impending freedom.
“Signed, Mr. Sterling.”
I pushed the folder back toward him, my final bet on the table.
Harrison was frozen. He stared at my signature as if it were written in an alien language.
Then, with a surge of fury, he snatched the documents, scribbled his own name, and threw one of the copies on the floor like a piece of trash.
Thud.
So childish.
I bent down, picked up my contract of freedom, and turned toward the door.
As I gripped the handle, I looked back and gave him one last piece of advice.
“He’s your son, and your choice. Don’t come looking for a refund when you screw it all up.”
Through the expensive wooden door, I heard him roar, “Get out! And I don’t want to see a single one of your things left in the apartment!”
The interns by the elevator immediately pretended to be busy, but I heard them clearly.
“Oh my god, is that for real? A divorce?”
“She must have gotten a massive settlement.”
“Who cares? She’s now one of the richest single women in New York.”
I stepped into the elevator, looked at my polished but exhausted reflection in the mirror, and finally allowed myself to smile.
The kids were right. I was rich.