From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 275: Colluded Diagnosis and Risky Project

Caleb's figure vanished through the doorway. Only then did a wave of genuine relief wash over Riley's face, the practiced calm dissolving into a soft, private smile.

Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, carrying sincere gratitude. "Thank you, Barry. I'm sorry to have dragged you into this again."

A relaxed smile appeared on Barry's face as the tension left his shoulders.

"Don't mention it. Lydia already briefed me. She said if you ever came in for a consult, this was the story," he murmured, shaking his head.

He paused, his expression turning more serious. "But are you really going to keep Caleb in the dark like this? It's not a sustainable solution in the long run."

Riley took a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze clear and unwavering. "A long-term solution? I never planned on staying with the Ashford family for the long haul. This identity is just a necessary cover for now."

When she and Lydia had first mapped out this intricate plan, they'd prepared for every conceivable scenario.

Barry, with his impeccable reputation and skills, was one of Lydia's carefully selected and arranged safeguards—a safety net for a rainy day.

It was a precaution Riley hadn't expected to need so soon. Caleb's sudden, unexpected move had forced her hand.

Of all the hurdles, Caleb, with his vast experience and meticulous nature, had loomed as the most formidable.

Yet, with Barry's seamless cooperation, her fabricated story hadn't just held; it had gained credibility, transforming into a medically-sanctioned fact that Caleb now fully believed.

Some time later, Caleb returned from his phone call.

"Let's go," he stated tersely, offering no further explanation before turning on his heel and striding out of the clinic.

Riley offered Barry an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment before following Caleb at a measured pace.

Barry watched them leave, a knowing smile playing on his lips before he turned back to his work.

Outside, the midday sun was glaringly bright.

Caleb's chauffeur-driven car was already waiting at the curb.

They slid into the backseat in silence.

Caleb began, breaking the quiet with a deliberately softened, almost placating tone. "Riley, don't read too much into today. I wasn't trying to put you on the spot by bringing you here.

"I'd only heard that Barry was exceptional with complex cases. Thinking of how hard you work, and with some free time today, I thought it'd be good to have him assess your general health. I never expected..." He let his voice trail off into a sigh, the unspoken conclusion clear: even this renowned expert had confirmed the hopeless news.

Ridiculous. The more he explains, the guiltier he looks.

His transparent attempt to verify her infertility while cloaking it in faux concern was almost pitiful. He was scrambling for the moral high ground, desperate not to appear utterly callous.

She turned to him, her face arranged into a picture of serene understanding.

"Grandpa, of course I don't think that. I know you're just concerned for me," she assured him, her voice gentle and perfectly magnanimous.

Ever the shrewd strategist, Caleb swiftly steered the conversation into deeper, more treacherous waters.

He pivoted, his sharp eyes fixing on her. "Speaking of which, Lucas mentioned to me that your previous... severe hemorrhage was caused by medication. What exactly happened there?"

"Grandpa, that's in the past. Let's just treat it as an unfortunate accident," Riley replied, her voice dropping a fraction, skillfully evading the direct question.

She knew better than to confide in him now. Given his current stance, laying all her cards on the table wouldn't earn her an ally.

As anticipated, Caleb didn't press further.

He released another heavy, world-weary sigh, his face a mask of profound regret.

"Ah, well. If you say so." With a dismissive wave, he changed the subject entirely. "Enough of that. There's another reason for our outing today. I'm taking you to meet an old friend of mine, just back from abroad. He's talking about a new development zone there and has invited Ashford Group to partner on a wellness center project.

"Before I cut my trip short to return, I had our people scout the location. The preliminary reports are promising. Today is just an initial discussion to flesh out the details. Since you're here, your perspective will be valuable."

A nod to Caspian in the front passenger seat was all it took. Caspian immediately handed a file back to Riley.

She accepted it, her expression giving nothing away as she began to scan the contents.

The dossier was undeniably thorough—land planning, market analysis, capital budgeting, profit projections—every angle appeared meticulously covered. On the surface, it was flawless.

Yet, a flicker of unease, born from sharp business instinct, stirred within her.

The structure reminded her of classic international case studies on cross-border "A-sells-to-B" schemes: complex equity transfers and asset valuations used to inflate the worth of a mediocre project, leading to overpriced sales or financing that ultimately trapped investors.

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly for a split second before her composure returned.

Not my circus, not my monkeys. I have no obligation to shield Ashford Group from its own potential missteps.

"I'll look it over," she said neutrally.

The car soon arrived at an upscale members' club.

As Caleb led Riley into the appointed private dining room, they found they weren't the first to arrive. Seated at the table, waiting, were Lucas and Sophia.