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.
