Page 96 of Six Month Wife
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 allhim.
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.”
