26. Parker
Parker
The harsh buzz of my phone pulls me out of sleep. I groan and squint at the screen. Notifications. A dozen of them. Texts, emails, and news alerts.
Confused, I swipe one open, and my stomach drops.
Almost-Billionaire Heir Swindled? Drama Surrounding Son of Celebrity Lawyer Leeland Matthews and the Fight for His Inheritance!
I sit up, scrolling. The article spins a full-blown soap opera.
If this is to be taken as gospel, I’m being robbed by a ruthless estate firm. Sources say I’m heading back to DC to fight the will, and that the marriage is optics. I never meant to stay in Palm Beach.
A glossy shot of Leeland outside a courthouse. There are no direct quotes, only “family insiders” and vague references.
It’s all smoke and mirrors.
It’s all him .
And worse—I never told Adair any of this. Not the loophole. Not the pitch my father made. I thought shutting it down meant it was over. I thought keeping it from her would protect her.
Now she’s front and center in a public takedown that makes her look like a pawn in some inheritance game.
Worse, it makes her look like the gold digger my father accused her of being. Palm Beach is small. This will wreck her, no matter what ends up happening with us.
I’m dressed and out the door in under a minute.
When she answers, the door doesn’t open all the way. She doesn’t move aside.
“Hey,” I say. “Can I come in?”
“Morning.”
Flat. Not angry. Just reserved and not giving me an inch.
“You’ve seen it,” I guess.
She leans against the frame, arms crossed. “The part where you’re ditching me for DC? I caught it over my bowl of Cheerios. I wondered why we didn’t shack up last night. I guess you knew this was coming out?”
I wince. “Adair?—”
“Before you start,” she cuts in, “was this before or after you told me you wanted to stay here and wanted something real with us? Are you doing this because you didn't like my answer? Or was it all bullshit to get laid anyway?”
“I didn’t do this,” I say. “He pitched it. I shot it down. I told him it was a garbage idea and I didn’t want any part of it. I never approved anything. I didn’t think he’d stoop this low, especially after I told him this was not the way I wanted to go.”
“You didn’t think Leeland Matthews would go full puppet master?” She raises an eyebrow. “That’s kind of his whole brand. You told me so, yourself. ”
“I know,” I admit. “You’re right. I always give him too much credit.”
“So you admit you knew this is what he was thinking?”
“I should’ve told you what he said. I didn’t because it was hurtful, and when I shut it down, I didn’t think it mattered. I figured it was over. That was my mistake.”
Her lips come together tightly, forming a thin line. “So the loophole’s real?”
“Yeah,” I say. “He thinks if we annul, I can still claim my inheritance, but I don’t have to play house, or whatever he calls it, for the rest of the time stipulation.”
“Isn’t that nice?”
“Of course, it also comes back to money for him. He says our contract allows either of us to cut it before the six months, and the deal is off. I walk away with more. No strings, no payout, and you’re left in the dust.”
She doesn’t blink. “Sounds perfect for you.”
“Fuck that,” I say with conviction. “And I told him as much. I’m not him. I would never do that to you. I meant it when I said I don't want this to end in six months. I certainly don't want it to end before.”
I step forward, keeping my voice steady.
“This started as business, sure, Adair. But it’s more than that now.
You’re not part of some deal. I see you, what you’ve built, what you’re fighting so hard for.
I won’t screw you over to save a few dollars and make him happy.
And if you screw me over in the end, like he keeps saying, then oh, well.
I'm willing to take that risk. Because I believe in you and us.”
She stares at me, remaining guarded, but I can tell she's thinking.
“Well, this article screwed me, Parker. I’ll never have a business here in Palm Beach, now.”
“I'll fix it.”
“How do you propose to do that? Are you going to DC to beat your father up, sue the journalist? You can't take these words out of the universe. They are there forever, now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “I’m staying in Palm Beach. And whatever you want to do from here, annul, keep going, walk away, I’ll respect it. But what we agreed to, the money? That doesn’t change. And I’ll walk through fire to make sure everyone knows this was all me, not you.”
Her eyes narrow. “So you’re saying we can put an end to this today, and you’ll still honor the money we agreed to from the start? It won’t be voided by ending it earlier than the six months?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure.”
“As a heart attack. The ball is in your court, and I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you choose won't change anything.”
The silence hangs a second longer. Then her shoulders drop. “Alright. Because if I had to throw you out twice in one week, I was gonna need stronger coffee.”
I almost smile.
“Come in,” she mutters, stepping back to let me in. “If we are going to stand up to this, we need a plan.”
The hospital is quieter than usual, but I can still hear the whispers.
Not actual words, but the shift in tone when I walk past a nurse’s station. The not-so-subtle glances from the surgery floor receptionist, who never used to look at me twice. I don’t need a headline above my head to know they’ve all seen it .
I lean against the counter, tapping my pen against my clipboard like I’m studying the board.
Everyone waiting has minor cases. There are a couple of sprains, and someone with chest pain waiting for labs, which is marked as a likely panic attack.
There’s nothing urgent, but all of it will require me to dive in and lose myself.
My brain keeps circling back to this morning. The article. Adair’s voice, flat and steady while she asked if I was going to screw her over. The fact that she still opened the door, but didn’t let me in.
It's like every time we take a step forward, we are shoved three steps back.
She’s not angry or bitter, surprisingly. But I can see, even in the short time since this exploded, that she's being more careful now. Calculating. Like she’s already scanning for exits, planning her next move.
I don’t blame her.
But it still guts me.
All I want is for her to trust me. To see me , not Leeland’s shadow. But I know she's pulling back and retreating behind those polished walls she wears like armor.
And the worst part is, I get it. I’d pull back, too, if the roles were reversed.
“Dr. Matthews.”
Gunner’s voice pulls me out of my reverie. He’s standing at the edge of the nurses’ station, clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable. “Got a minute?”
If he's calling me "Dr. Matthews" instead of Parker, this must not be good.
“Yes, sorry. I was zoned out.” I straighten, grateful for the distraction.
I nod slowly, heart thudding with that old, familiar pull. This is the path I thought I’d never find. And now it’s right in front of me.
But I can’t accept it without addressing the ticking time bomb.
“Before I say anything, I need to be up front.” I glance between them. “There’s an article circulating online. It came out this morning. It paints a pretty slanted picture about the inheritance my uncle left me and the terms tied to it.”
Gunner leans back, arms crossed. Kowalski’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the flicker of interest behind his eyes.
"Inheritance?"
“It’s a smear campaign,” I continue. “Someone’s trying to spin this to discredit me and sway public perception to put the squeeze on the probate. But the facts in that article are twisted. None of it changes how I show up for my patients or how seriously I take this profession.”
"I'm not following. I guess I need to read the article you're talking about, but how does this impact moving to general surgery?"
I bite the inside of my cheek as I think about how to put this. “It paints me as a money-hungry and transactional person and says I'm planning to move to DC. None of that could be further from the truth."
"Oh, I see," Gunner says.
“I also want to be clear that Adair, my wife, has nothing to do with this circus. She didn’t ask for any of it. And she sure as hell doesn’t deserve to be dragged into it.”
Kowalski nods slowly. “Appreciate the transparency about all of this. I'm sorry you're going through it.”
Gunner meets my gaze. “I’ll have to discuss it with the board, I’m sure you know. But between us, as far as I’m concerned, the offer still stands. ”
“Parker,” Kowalski interrupts, his tone firm but kind. “You’re the right guy. You’ve got the skills, the drive, and most importantly, the heart. That’s what makes a great surgeon. I'm a surgeon first, so I'll leave the business end of things to the board. But your candor right here speaks volumes.”
The next morning, the hospital is already humming by the time I make it in. Rounds are quick, steady. I keep my head down and do the work.
I don’t expect to see Gunner again so soon, but there he is outside the stairwell near the break room with his arms crossed and coffee in hand.
“Matthews.”
"Oh, Morning, Gunner. Did you get the link to the article I sent to you yesterday? It's a beauty, huh?”
“Follow me.”
He doesn’t say more until we’re in a quiet corner of the admin wing. The boardroom door is shut. A few scattered papers sit on the table from a morning meeting.
Gunner leans against the doorframe. “The board met for an emergency meeting last night. Since we had already discussed you, we were able to video in the members not here and still have quorum.”
My spine straightens.
“They all had a chance to read the article,” he says flatly. “I won’t lie, there were some questions. But Kowalski and I both went to bat for you. We told them what kind of doctor you are, what kind of man you are.”
I hold his gaze. “So?”
“They’re all still on board. We want you as assistant general surgeon. ”
Just like that. There it is.
I let the breath go slowly. The weight of everything hits at once. The months of uncertainty, the nights questioning whether I was still chasing the right dream.
“Wow.”
Gunner shrugs. “You earned it. But I need to know soon. We want to announce it next week.”
“Can I have 24 hours?”
His eyebrows lift.
“It’s not hesitation,” I add quickly. “I need to talk to someone first. My wife.”
He gives a slow, knowing nod. “Ah, the wife. Yes, of course.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Try to let me know something tomorrow, if not sooner. Everything is sort of hanging until we know if we need to go on a national search for Peterson's replacement. Having you would be the best, but if we can't have you, we need to pivot quickly.”
As he walks off, I pull out my phone to text Adair.
You around tonight? Need your advice. Big time.
(Also might need champagne. Again.)
I slip my phone back into my pocket, heart still thudding from the adrenaline, but steady now.
This isn't about a promotion. Not anymore.
It’s about where I go from here—and who I’m bringing with me.