Page 46 of Six Month Wife

I say nothing. Because what’s left to say? He adjusts his cuff. Smooths his tie.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, almost warm. “Your secret’s safe with me. But you might want to do a little digging of your own—on your wife.”

The words land like a slap. I don’t flinch. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckles softly, like I handed him the mic. “Come on, Parker. You think I wouldn’t look into her? You show up married out of nowhere, and I’m supposed to believe it’s love?”

My pulse spikes.

“Especially with hundreds of millions on the line,” he adds, voice syrup-slick and self-satisfied.

I hate myself for asking. “What exactly did your ‘digging’ turn up?”

He shrugs, like the whole thing bores him. “She’s not thriving. Her wellness café is bleeding money, and the product line’s stalled. She's desperate enough to start sniffing around LA and Florida for investors. You weren’t the only pitch she made, Parker.”

Something cracks sharply and hot in my chest. Thatmakes it all make sense, why she always seems so defeated whenever Citrine comes up. She's been too proud to tell me.

“You don’t know anything about her,” I say, too evenly. “So she’s hustling. Welcome to being a small business owner in the modern era. Big find, there, Dad.”

He grins like he’s already won. “I know enough to see why she said yes.”

I step toward him, jaw tight. “So what? She should get something out of this. Why are you telling me this? What do you want?”

He leans back like he’s already closed the deal. “To help. That’s it.”

Bullshit.

“If you’re going to fake a marriage to get the money, fine,” he goes on. “But don’t do it sloppily. I can coach you through it and help you make it airtight to sell the story. I can make the estate manager your biggest fan.”

“Of course,” I mutter. “There it is. The angle.”

“This isn’t about me,” he says, but the gleam in his eye says otherwise. “It’s about not fumbling a once-in-a-lifetime inheritance because your emotions got tangled in your strategy.”

He paces now, smooth and certain, like he’s delivering closing arguments to a jury that’s already decided.

“Let’s say it’s enough to build a legacy. Or destroy one. And your girl? She’s in over her head. If she slips, you both go down.”

He stops and turns to face me.

“I’m offering you insulation, Parker. A buffer between you and failure. Let me in now, or I’ll stay on the sidelines and let the cracks show. It will be painful, because I want you to succeed, but if you won't let me in, I won't have a choice.”

"Dad, stop."

“When it falls apart, and it will, trust me, you’ll wish you’d had someone like me in your corner.”

I stare at him. The arrogance. The calculation. Theaudacity.

I hate how part of me knows he’s not entirely wrong.

But then I picture Adair and her stubborn fire, her grit. I can hear her laugh when she’s exhausted but still pushing through.

“You don’t know Adair,” I say quietly. But there’s steel behind it. “You're not giving either of us enough credit.”

Leeland raises a brow.

“You’re not out of the woods because there’s a ring. This is a six-month performance. You may trust her, but I don’t. And if I can poke holes in this, so can the estate manager. So let me get ahead of it for you.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” I snap. “And I sure as hell don’t need your script.”