Billionaire Secret Twin Heir

Chapter 11: The Ultimatum

~ Final Showdown in the Courtroom ~

My hands wouldn't stop trembling. I clenched them into fists, digging my nails into my palms until the pain gave me something else to focus on besides the nausea churning in my stomach.

The courtroom smelled of lemon-scented cleaner and dusty law books. Judge Winters adjusted his reading glasses, the fluorescent lights glinting off the silver frames as he shuffled the papers before him. Each rustle sliced through the silence like a knife. The final ruling. The end of five years of marriage, reduced to legal jargon and dollar signs.

"Ms. Campbell, please rise," he instructed.

My legs felt like lead as I stood. Beside me, Rebecca Torres, my attorney, placed a steadying hand on my elbow. The gesture was subtle but necessary. I wasn't sure I could remain upright otherwise.

Across the aisle, Michael sat with his team of lawyers—three impeccably dressed sharks with cufflinks that probably cost more than what I'd be walking away with today. His expression remained neutral, a mask of practiced indifference that I once found mysterious and alluring. Now it just made me want to scream.

"After careful consideration of all evidence presented," Judge Winter began, his voice resonating through the chamber, "this court finds in favor of Mr. Walton on the majority of contested assets."

The words hit me like physical blows. Rebecca's grip on my elbow tightened.

"Given the prenuptial agreement and the evidence presented regarding Ms. Campbell's financial contributions to the marriage, the court awards Ms. Campbell a one-time settlement of seventy-five thousand dollars."

Seventy-five thousand. Five years of my life. My career put on hold. Countless fertility treatments. The humiliation of finding my husband with my sister. All worth seventy-five thousand dollars.

"Furthermore, Ms. Campbell will retain her personal vehicle and personal effects already removed from the Walton estate."

Behind me, I heard a small, satisfied exhale. Turning slightly, I caught Elizabeth Walton's triumphant smile. She sat in the front row, ramrod straight in her tailored navy suit, diamond earrings catching the light with each self-satisfied nod.

"This court is adjourned." The gavel crashed down with a finality that echoed through my bones.

Rebecca leaned in close. "Aria, I'm so sorry. We can appeal, but—"

"But it would cost more than I just got awarded," I finished for her, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "And they'd just drag it out longer."

She didn't deny it. We both knew the truth. The Waltons never lose.

I gathered my purse, straightening my shoulders despite the invisible weight crushing them. Five years of marriage, and I was leaving with barely enough to survive a few months. The prenup I'd signed had more holes than Swiss cheese, and Michael's lawyers had exploited every one.

As people began to filter out, I felt a presence beside me. The expensive floral perfume gave her away before I even turned.

"Consider yourself lucky you're walking away with anything at all," Elizabeth's voice was soft, meant only for my ears. Her perfectly manicured hand brushed against my arm in what would appear to observers as a conciliatory gesture. "The Walton name means something in this state. You were never worthy of it."

I met her eyes, those same blue eyes her son had inherited. "I never wanted your name, Elizabeth. I wanted your son. And he wanted me—until you poisoned him against me."

Her smile never faltered, but her eyes hardened to ice. "A mother protects her son from mistakes. You were always a mistake, Aria."

Before I could respond, she glided away, joining Nelson by the door. He didn't look at me—hadn't once during the entire proceedings. The coward.

My phone vibrated in my purse. Pulling it out, I saw Samantha's text: *How bad?*

I typed back: *As expected. I'll call you later.*

The courtroom had nearly emptied when Michael finally approached. He moved cautiously, like I was a wounded animal that might lash out. He wasn't entirely wrong.

"Aria," he said, his voice lower than usual. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" I asked, shoving papers into my bag with more force than necessary. "How your family destroyed me? How you let them?"

He flinched. "This isn't what I wanted."

"No? Then what did you want, Michael? Because from where I'm standing, you got exactly what you wanted—freedom to screw my sister without the inconvenience of a wife who couldn't give you an heir."

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" I laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "You want to talk to me about fair? Your mother just gloated about how I'm lucky to get anything at all after five years of marriage."

Michael's jaw tightened. "My mother doesn't speak for me."

"No, she just thinks for you. Acts for you. Decides for you." I zipped my bag closed with a violent tug. "Or was it your decision to have your lawyers drag up my college therapy sessions? To suggest I was mentally unstable?"

He had the decency to look ashamed, but shame wasn't enough. Not anymore.

"I never authorized that," he said quietly.

"But you didn't stop it either." I slung my bag over my shoulder. "You never do, Michael. That's always been your problem. You let everyone else make the hard choices while you hide behind your family name."

Rebecca touched my arm. "Aria, the paperwork is ready for your signature."

I nodded, grateful for the interruption. "I have to go."

"Wait," Michael caught my wrist. His touch sent an unwelcome jolt through me—muscle memory from a body that hadn't yet caught up to the reality of our broken marriage. "Please, just... are you okay? After the hospital?"

For a moment, I froze. The hospital. The blackout. The news that had changed everything.

He didn't know. None of them knew.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling my arm away. "Just low blood sugar and stress. Nothing serious."

His eyes searched mine, looking for something I would never give him. "Where will you go?"

"That's no longer your concern," I replied, the words clipped and final.

At the table, Rebecca laid out the divorce papers. My future—or what was left of it—reduced to signature lines and legal terminology.

"Once you sign, it's done," she said quietly. "The settlement will be transferred to your account within ten business days."

Ten business days. I did the math in my head. I had enough saved to cover rent for the small apartment I'd found, plus groceries for a month. The settlement would give me a few more months to figure out my next steps.

My next steps. As if I were simply changing jobs or moving cities. Not hiding a pregnancy from one of the most powerful families in New Jersey.

The pen felt heavy in my hand. One signature and my marriage would be officially over. One signature and I'd be walking away with barely enough to support myself, let alone a child.

Children, I corrected mentally. Two heartbeats. Two lives growing inside me that nobody in this courtroom knew about. Two reasons I had to sign these papers and disappear.

I felt Michael watching me from across the room as the pen hovered over the line. Five years ago, I'd signed my name on another document—our marriage license—with hope and love and dreams of forever. Now I was signing away those same dreams with nothing but fear and determination to guide me.

My signature was steady despite the trembling in my chest. Rebecca countersigned as witness, and just like that, it was done.

"Congratulations," she said, without a trace of celebration in her voice. "You're a free woman."

Free. Such a hollow word when I felt nothing but trapped.

I stood, gathering the copies of my divorce decree. The nausea returned, but I couldn't be sure if it was morning sickness or the bitter taste of defeat.

As I walked toward the door, I heard footsteps behind me. Michael again. I didn't turn.

"Aria, please." His voice cracked. "Don't leave like this."

I stopped but didn't face him. "How should I leave, Michael? With a smile? With forgiveness? You chose your family's legacy over our love. You let them destroy me in court rather than stand up to them."

"I still love you," he whispered, and the worst part was I could hear the truth in it. "We can fix this."

I finally turned, meeting his eyes one last time. "No, we can't. Some things, once broken, stay broken."

His face—the face I'd woken up to for five years, the face I'd once thought I'd grow old with—crumpled with an emotion I couldn't let myself name.

"Goodbye, Michael."

I pushed through the heavy wooden doors of the courtroom, each step taking me further from the life I'd built and closer to an uncertain future. The weight of what I was carrying—both literally in my womb and figuratively in my heart—threatened to crush me.

But I wouldn't break. Not here. Not where they could see.

Outside, the spring sunshine seemed too bright, too cheerful for such a dark day. I slipped on my sunglasses, partially to shield my eyes, mostly to hide the tears threatening to spill over.

My phone buzzed again.

Samantha: *I'm parked out back. Black door, left of the steps.*

I took a deep breath, one hand instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach.

"We'll be okay," I whispered to the child I was carrying. "Mommy's going to make sure of it."

Squaring my shoulders, I walked away from the courthouse, away from the Waltons, away from Michael. Every step was a promise to my unborn children—a promise that they would never know the cruelty of the family whose blood ran through their veins.

I was leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back, a small savings account, and a settlement that would barely get us through the year.

But I had something the Waltons wanted more than anything—their heir. And they would never get their hands on the baby.

Never.