Chapter 6 - The Setup Deepens
*Word count target: ~3,000 words*
By Thursday, the media storm surrounding our sudden marriage had reached hurricane force. Tabloids ran headlines like: *“The Billionaire and the Builder: Real Love or Corporate Coup?”* and *“Inside Claire Whitman’s Shocking Wedding Secret.”*
My sister Hannah finally tracked me down at my construction site, marching right past the safety barrier in a pair of designer heels, waving a magazine in the air.
"ETHAN! EXPLAIN!" she yelled over the sound of a pneumatic drill.
I signaled for the worker to cut the engine. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with a rag and looked at my furious sister.
"Hi, Hannah. Nice shoes for a construction zone."
"Don't change the subject! You married Claire Whitman? The Claire Whitman? The ice queen of Denver real estate? How did this happen? Did she put a spell on you? Is she holding you hostage?"
"No one is holding me hostage," I sighed, leaning against a stack of drywall. "It’s a... complicated arrangement."
"Complicated? You're on the cover of *Denver Life* magazine! You look like a Bond villain and his trophy husband!"
"Hey, I look sharp in a tuxedo," I muttered defensively.
Hannah crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "Ethan, I know you. You're too honest for this high-society shark tank. If she breaks your heart, I swear I will personally bring a bulldozer to her headquarters."
"She's not going to break my heart, Hannah. It's a business deal. We're getting a divorce in a year."
Hannah stared at me, her expression shifting from anger to deep, piercing suspicion. "People don't marry billionaires in secret courthouses just for a 'business deal,' Ethan. Be careful. People like that eat guys like you for breakfast."
Later that evening, while reviewing blueprints in my apartment, my phone pinged. A video message from an unknown number.
I tapped it.
The video showed Claire walking out of a private clinic in downtown Denver, accompanied by a man I didn't recognize, both of them whispering intently. Then, the camera panned to a document resting on a car seat—a medical file bearing Claire's name and the word *CONFIDENTIAL* stamped in red.
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Along with the video came a text from Julian: *“Still think you know your wife, builder boy? Ask her about what happened three years ago. Ask her why she really needed a husband by Monday.”*
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