Chapter 6
ADRIAN
Iarrive at the office Monday morning, my mind still at the estate with Emmy. The weekend plays on repeat, and the truth I've been avoiding settles in my chest with startling clarity: I'm in love with her.
Not pretending. Not performing for Violet's will or Judith's scrutiny. Actually, irrevocably in love with Emmy.
I haven't told her yet. The words sit on my tongue, waiting for the right moment. Tonight, maybe. I'm picking up her favorite Thai food, planning to finally say what I've been feeling for weeks now.
"Mr. Hale?" My receptionist's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Mr. Whitmore has been waiting for you."
The name doesn't register immediately. "Whitmore?"
"Says it's about the Blake estate?"
My guard rises instantly. The man waiting in the reception area is mid-forties, disheveled, with a hungry look that makes my skin crawl. His handshake is damp, his smile calculated.
"We need to talk about the Blake estate." He stares at me. Unsmiling.
I lead him to my office, close the door firmly behind us. He doesn't wait to be asked before settling into a chair across from my desk.
"Graham Whitmore. I represent Violet Blake's cousins." He extracts a business card, slides it across my desk. "We're filing a motion to have the relationship clause invalidated."
I maintain a neutral expression. "On what grounds?"
"It's manipulative, possibly coercive." His eyes narrow. "Convenient timing, wouldn't you say? You and Ms. Blake getting together right after the will reading."
My pulse quickens, but my voice remains steady. "Ms. Blake and I began seeing each other before the will reading. Our relationship pre-dates the reading of the Will."
"Almost like you knew about the clause beforehand." He leans forward. "Facilitating a fraudulent relationship to circumvent estate terms—that's career-ending, Mr. Hale."
Cold fury builds in my chest. "Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Whitmore?"
"I'll be watching very carefully for cracks. Inconsistencies." That smarmy smile makes me want to punch his face. "Any evidence this relationship is manufactured, and I'll have you disbarred."
"If you're threatening me, Mr. Whitmore, I suggest you reconsider."
He stands, straightening his ill-fitting jacket. "Not a threat. A promise. I'll be watching."
When the door closes behind him, I remain still, analyzing every angle of this new threat.
Judith appears in my doorway moments later.
"What did Whitmore want?"
I explain the situation succinctly. Judith's brow furrows with concern.
"Your relationship with Emmy—it's legitimate?"
"Completely." The lie comes easily because it no longer feels like one.
"Because if there's any question, you need to recuse yourself immediately."
"There's no question."
After she leaves, I stare at Whitmore's card. The agreement Emmy and I signed sits locked in my safe—the only tangible evidence of our arrangement. Our text messages from the early days were strategic, calculated, but now they're genuine.
When did fake become real? The practice kiss? Victoria's dinner? The library?
Does it matter legally? We're together now. The feelings are real. My mind wanders to Violet. Her memory sits with me. I felt so comfortable in her company. Something I now feel when with Emmy.
But if Whitmore finds evidence of our original arrangement, Emmy could lose the library. I could be disbarred. Everything we've built would be tainted.
I open my safe and remove our agreement.
I feed it through the shredder page by page, watching the evidence disappear into confetti. There is no other copy. I did not sign it; I only witnessed Emmy's signature.
It's never been legally binding. Would not have stood up if Emmy had challenged it. If she ever did, though, it would be the end of my legal career.
It's not fraud if we're actually together. It's only relevant if we're not actually together.
We don't need a signed agreement to justify our feelings for each other. I don't care. Not about Whitmore or the Blake cousins. How we fell for each other doesn't matter. Only that we did within thirty days of the reading of Violet's Will.
The beginning doesn't matter.
I need to tell Emmy tonight.
I arrive at her apartment carrying Thai takeout. She opens the door wearing leggings and my Columbia sweatshirt, which she 'borrowed' but clearly has no intention of returning, her hair piled in a messy bun. Her laptop sits open on the coffee table, manuscript visible.
"You brought pad thai. You're officially my favorite person." She rises on tiptoes to kiss me hello, and we settle on her couch, her feet in my lap as we eat.
This easy intimacy terrifies and comforts me simultaneously. It's everything I want, everything I need to protect.
"We need to talk about something."
Her face changes instantly. "That's never a good opening."
I explain about Graham Whitmore, the cousins, and the motion. She sets down her food, processing. "He thinks we're committing fraud."
"Are we? Technically?"
"No. We're in a relationship."
"That started as fake." She stands, fingers running through her hair. "Maybe we should just tell the truth. Let Graham contest it properly. I don't want you to lose your career because of me."
I rise, stopping her nervous movement with my hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me carefully. We are in a relationship. That's not a lie. It doesn't matter how it started. What matters is what it is now."
"But if he finds out—"
"He won't. There's nothing to find. The contract, our contract, is shredded. Our texts are genuine. Legally, we haven't lied."
She pulls back, studying my face. "Why are you doing this? Really? You could walk away. Recuse yourself. Let me deal with Graham alone."
My jaw tightens. "No."
"Why not?"
I look at her and almost say it. "Because I—" I stop, catching myself. Not like this. Not when she's stressed and scared. "Because I care about you. More than I should. More than is probably wise."
Her eyes search mine. "Adrian—"
I kiss her, cutting off whatever she was going to say. When we break apart, both breathing hard, she asks, "Do we need to be more convincing?"
"Yes. Completely unimpeachable. Graham will be looking for any crack. We can't give him one."
Her determination surfaces. "Then we won't. We'll be perfect. The most disgustingly in-love couple he's ever seen."
I almost smile at her fierceness.
"Disgustingly?"
"Tooth-achingly sweet. Nauseating. He'll beg us to stop being so happy."
The humor fades as reality sinks in. "I can't lose you, Emmy. Not to Graham's investigation. Not to anything."
She stares at me; a smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
I frame her face with my hands. "You're mine now, and I won't ever let you go."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Even after day sixty?"
"Especially after day sixty." I stroke her cheek with my thumb. "There is no day sixty anymore, Emmy. There's just ... us. For as long as you'll have me."
"I'm yours too, you know. You don't get to be possessive alone. It goes both ways."
"No?"
"No. You're mine just as much as I'm yours."
Something in my chest loosens at her words. "Good."
This stopped being about the inheritance weeks ago.
This stopped being fake the moment we kissed.
I'm fighting for her now. Not for Violet's estate, not for my managing partner position, not for any reason except that I love her.
I haven't said the words yet. But I will.
Just as soon as I make sure no one can take her away from me.
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