Page 147 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“I’m already on it. But Gideon, there’s more. Blackwell’s legal team filed papers challenging the trust’s validity late last night.”

The last-ditch effort of a desperate man. “Hethinks if he can prove our marriage was purely transactional he can invalidate the trust.”

“Essentially. His lawyers are arguing that since the marriage was a business arrangement it invalidates the spousal trust protection.”

I run a hand through my hair, mind racing through implications. “Get the team together. Nine AM.”

“Already scheduled.”

I hang up and stare at the empty side of my bed. The side where Ava slept until yesterday when she moved back to her separate room. Practical, she called it. Preparing for our separation.

She has no idea I haven’t slept more than three hours a night since.

I shower and dress mechanically, the routine so ingrained I barely need to think. Dark suit. White shirt. Gray tie. Armor for the battle ahead.

When I enter the kitchen, Ava is already there in paint-splattered jeans and one of her oversized sweaters, nursing a coffee. I pause at the doorway, drinking in the sight of her. Her wild curls are piled messily on top of her head, and she’s got that little furrow between her brows as she reads something on her corporate laptop.

“Morning,” I say, my voice rougher than intended.

She startles slightly, her coffee sloshing. “Morning.”

“We have a problem.” I pour myself coffee, needing something to do with my hands so I don’t reach for her. “Blackwell leaked our arrangement to the press. It’s everywhere.”

Her face pales. “Everything?”

“Enough. But that’s not all. He’s filed a legal challenge to the trust’s validity.”

“Shit.” She sets down her mug with a thud. “Can he do that?”

“He can try. But we need to present a united front.” I hesitate. “In public.”

The “in public” hangs between us, a reminder that in private we’re already separating. Already untangling our lives.

“Of course,” she says, her voice soft. “What do you need me to do?”

What do I need? I need you to come back to our bed. I need you to want this to be real as much as I do.

“We need to make a statement. Go on the offensive. Elliott Hayes is coming over at ten to prep us.”

She nods, all business. “And the legal challenge?”

“That’ll take longer to play out but we need to shut it down fast. The legal team is meeting at nine.”

She glances at the clock. “You should go then. I’ll be ready when Elliott arrives.”

I take a step toward her before catching myself. “Ava...”

Her eyes meet mine, wary but questioning.

The words stick in my throat. What am I supposed to say? That these past weeks have been torture, pretending I still see this as just a contract? That watching her prepare to leave is killing me?

“Wear something conservative for the statement,” I say instead. “Navy or black.”

A flash of disappointment crosses her face so quickly I almost miss it. “Of course. Good for the cameras, right?”

My phone buzzes with an incoming call from my head of legal. Another fireto put out.

“I have to take this,” I say, already backing away toward my home office. Always fucking backing away.

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