From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 288: Calculated Gift

"I don't want it." Her voice was calm, a practiced neutrality as she subtly shifted away from his hand, which had been reaching for a stray strand of her hair. "You've given me more than enough already. If I ever feel it's not sufficient, I'll tell you. Right now, I don't need this."

Lucas' smile froze, a flicker of genuine hurt crossing his features.

"Riley, are you turning me down because you doubt my sincerity?" he sighed softly, the sound laced with wounded affection.

Her internal alarms blared louder.

Every kindness, every show of wounded pride, just makes the trap more obvious.

"Of course not. It's just... I'm used to standing on my own. Ashford Group shares and a new company feel more like a burden than a gift," she simply said.

"You always were fiercely independent." He conceded with a rueful chuckle, seamlessly weaving another thread into his tapestry of lies. "The couturier I mentioned will be in Havenbrook in the next few days. The jewelry is ready too—pieces I know you'll love.

"Trust me, I'm serious about this. After all, you're the one I plan to spend my life with."

The words "spend my life with" hung in the air, heavy with irony.

Riley had no intention of tearing off his mask, nor was she foolish enough to sign anything he handed her without scrutiny.

She drew a steadying breath, allowing a faint, polite smile to touch her lips.

"I appreciate the gesture, Lucas. But signing this means authorizing a series of operations for this new entity to external parties. Even if you vouch for them and I hold the controlling stake, the inherent risk is substantial.

"So, I'll need to review the new company's charter, scope of business, potential partners, and the detailed terms of the share transfer agreement before making any decision. It's basic due diligence. You understand that better than anyone."

He had expected some softening, a trace of the old Riley swayed by his apparent devotion.

But her sharp, business-like rebuttal and immediate demand for scrutiny caught him off guard.

Masking the icy shift in his eyes, he feigned reluctant acceptance. "Alright, if you insist. Have it your way."

The agreement itself is clean. The problems will come later, with the partnerships.

"But please, don't take too long, Riley. I'd like this... gift... to be in your name before I propose," he added.

Riley gave a slight, non-committal nod.

Back at her desk, she spread the so-called power of attorney document flat.

Her eyes meticulously traced each clause, searching for the flaw, the hidden catch.

On the surface, it was impeccable—standard commercial practice, reasonable equity splits, a clear business scope, and even the appointed third-party agencies seemed legitimate.

But its very perfection made her skin crawl.

The cleaner it looks, the dirtier the game. No matter how she turned it over in her mind, Lucas' endgame remained frustratingly opaque. The whole offer felt like a beautifully wrapped box that might contain a venomous snake.

As her thoughts churned, her phone buzzed with a message from Sebastian, "Some new developments on the smart project. Got time to discuss at the Harper Group office?"

She agreed immediately.

On her way out, she tucked the agreement into her bag.

What I can't see, Sebastian might.

Half an hour later, she walked into the office.

Sebastian, having arrived first, was sipping coffee.

They dove into a detailed discussion about the project's latest breakthrough first.

Once the business was concluded, Riley lingered, her expression troubled.

Sebastian noticed her hesitation instantly. "Something else on your mind?"

She extracted the document from her folder and slid it across the desk. "Lucas gave me this today."

Sebastian scanned the pages rapidly.

Setting it down, he looked up, a dry, cynical smile playing on his lips. "What's wrong? Ashford Group is in trouble and needs a convenient scapegoat?"

Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

He explained, his tone clinical, "It's a classic playbook for old-money families looking to offload risk. Register a new shell company, install a nominal—often expendable—figurehead as the legal face. Then, use that entity to pursue high-risk, high-reward ventures.

"If it pays off, you get a slice. But if it crashes, or worse, triggers legal fallout, you're the one left holding the bag, publicly accountable."

His words clicked everything into place with cold, brutal clarity.

The riskiest venture in Ashford Group's portfolio right now was undoubtedly Anthony's project.

He wants to put that liability squarely on me.

A hot wave of anger surged through her. Riley snatched the document, fingers tightening as if to rip it to shreds.

"Wait." Sebastian's hand closed over hers, stopping her. "Don't be rash. It's not hopeless. There are ways to handle this."