The Billionaire's True Heiress: From Fake Jewel to Real Crown novel Chapter 657

“What’s going on? Has Latham run out of options and come begging for your help?” Shirley’s voice was full of concern—and a hint of irony. “Don’t tell me they’re actually scheming to snatch away whatever savings you have left?”

She leaned in, lowering her voice. “By the way, rumor is, a bank manager’s wife has her sights set on you. She’s already talked to Octavia—apparently, she’s scouting you for her son. If that’s what this is about, you absolutely cannot agree, okay?”

Claire arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with her son?”

Shirley’s nod was so enthusiastic it was almost comical. “Oh, he’s got problems—all kinds of problems. Sure, he’s tall, but he weighs almost three hundred pounds. With how tiny you are, you’d be crushed before the honeymoon even started. I heard he was already pushing two hundred before studying abroad, and he only got bigger when he got there! Now he’s back, but none of the diets are working. Seriously, imagine getting married to a guy that size. My mom was practically celebrating when she found out they had their eye on you and not me. If it had been me, Latham and Octavia would be over at my house right now pressuring my parents to hand me over.” Shirley sighed, patting her chest for effect.

She was genuinely relieved the spotlight hadn’t landed on her—but when she heard Mrs. Clark had set her sights on Claire, her relief morphed instantly into worry. What if Latham and Octavia really tried to force Claire into marrying that guy?

But then, Shirley remembered—the Claire of today wasn’t the timid, easily swayed girl who once lived under the James family roof. There was no way she’d say yes to this insanity.

That was why, the moment Shirley heard the news, she dropped everything and came running.

“I’m not that naïve, Shirley. There’s no way I’d agree to something so absurd,” Claire replied, her lips twisting into a sardonic smile. “But it’s amazing—some people really do take me for a fool.”

She thought back to how Octavia had merely described the guy as “decent-looking.” That was a bit of an understatement—she’d conveniently neglected to mention “decent-looking” meant “tipping the scales three-hundred pounds.”

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