Chapter 6 - I Stopped Being Her Fake Boyfriend
The first rumor appeared online two days later.
WHITMORE HEIRESS SABOTAGES FAMILY COMPANY AFTER ROMANTIC BREAKDOWN
No author.
No meaningful sourcing.
But the details came from inside the family.
Claire’s name.
Grant’s name.
The breakup.
The frozen credit line.
Even the fact that she was dating “a hospital technician.”
I hated the word technician by then.
At work, my department manager called me into her office.
“Are you involved in any purchasing decisions related to Whitmore devices?”
“No.”
“Have you ever evaluated them?”
“Clinically, we use their positioning equipment in radiology, but I don’t approve vendors.”
She nodded.
“Document that.”
I did.
That was the cost to me.
Nothing catastrophic.
Just the realization that Claire’s family conflict could spill into my career if I got careless.
That evening I met her outside the gym.
She didn’t go inside.
“I think we should stop pretending.”
I looked at her.
“Okay.”
“You don’t have to sound happy about it.”
“I’m not.”
She folded her arms.
“My family is already dragging you into articles.”
“I can handle an article.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“So what are you saying?”
“That the fake-boyfriend thing ends.”
I nodded.
Her face fell slightly.
Then I said, “Good.”
“Good?”
“Because I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
Claire stared at me.
I stepped closer.
“I liked you before Melanie walked through that gym door. I liked you before I knew your father was committing financing fraud. And somehow, against all available evidence, I still like you now.”
Her mouth twitched.
“That may be the worst declaration of interest I’ve ever received.”
“I’m nervous.”
“I can tell.”
“So if anything happens between us, I don’t want it to be part of your defense strategy.”
The teasing disappeared.
“What do you want it to be?”
“Real.”
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Claire kissed me.
Not dramatic.
Not desperate.
Just one careful kiss outside a Nashville gym while cars moved behind us and somebody dropped a dumbbell inside hard enough to make the wall vibrate.
When she pulled back, she whispered, “That was terribly timed.”
“Probably.”
“My family may be bankrupt.”
“I know.”
“My ex is possibly involved in whatever caused it.”
“I know.”
“I may have to sue my father.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“You still want to do this?”
“Yes.”
Her phone rang.
Maya.
Claire answered.
Her expression changed almost immediately.
“What do you mean the audit log exists?”
A pause.
Then:
“Whose credentials?”
Another pause.
Claire looked at me.
“Jenna Price.”
The electronic consent bearing Claire’s signature had not originated from Robert Whitmore’s account.
May you like
It had been uploaded from a Hale Capital restructuring terminal assigned to the woman Grant was sleeping with.
Now the affair had fingerprints.
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