The Billionaire's True Heiress From Fake Jewel to Real Crown novel Chapter 656

“Who raised you?” Latham asked, tone tight. “I’m not trying to guilt you—believe me, I know that if Octavia and I hadn’t screwed up all those years ago, you probably never would’ve been switched at birth. But you lived with us, Claire—eighteen years under our roof. The James family raised you. And if we go under… I might not have any other choice left.”

He paused, searching her face for a sign of sympathy, then pressed on, “Even if you don’t feel anything for me, what about my mother? Pandora has always doted on you, treated you as her own. Would you really let her bury her son? Could you stand to watch her go through that?”

Claire was caught off guard to hear him bring up Pandora. “Maybe she’s a lot tougher than you think,” she said evenly. “She’s been living on her own for years—other than getting everyone together for the holidays, she manages fine. People adapt.”

Latham was stunned into silence, her words leaving a bitter aftertaste. So her answer was, it didn’t really matter if he lived or died?

“Besides,” Claire continued, “you don’t need to talk about drastic measures. If things are truly that bad financially, you can always mortgage some of the property. I’m sure it’ll buy you some breathing room. You’ve built the company into what it is today—if anyone can steer through this, it’s you, Latham. I believe in you.”

Who ever said death was the only option? What would that accomplish? Nothing—except leaving his family in ruin. Was that what a real man would do?

“I hope I can get through it,” Latham muttered, his face clouded.

He hadn’t expected her to refuse him so bluntly.

Claire’s resolve was absolute. She had even suggested he put up the family property; there was no persuading her. Grown kids were impossible to manipulate.

“Hang in there. I know you can do it,” Claire said.

Having served up a pep talk, she gathered her things, ready to leave. This time, Latham didn’t even have the energy to ask her to stay.

He watched her walk away, simmering with anger. With nowhere for it to go, he kicked at a heavy planter nearby.

The pot didn’t move an inch. The pain shot up through his toes and he winced, almost cursing out loud. At least no one saw that—he would have died of embarrassment.

As Claire walked out of the James estate, her phone buzzed. Shirley’s name popped up on the screen.

“Claire, where are you?”

“Just left the house. What’s up?” After the day she’d had, Claire just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

Claire rolled down the window. Shirley zipped over, pulling open the passenger-side door.

“Did you hear the big news about the company?” Shirley asked, handing Claire an ice cream bar, her words spilling out rapid-fire.

She was absolutely incapable of stopping once she started talking.

“I heard,” Claire said, parking by the curb. She unwrapped the ice cream and took a bite.

The sticky heat of summer lingered in the car, air conditioning or not. But with just one cold bite, the world felt bearable again.

“Is that why you went back to the James house today? To deal with all this?”

“Yeah,” Claire said, nodding and taking another bite.