Semua Bab THE BILLIONAIRE SECRET TWIN HEIR : Bab 91 - Bab 100

*Few Days Later*~ Jessica POV ~The champagne bubbles tickled my throat as I watched Aria’s family through the restaurant window. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.Tina's hands had shaken when she'd handed over those delicious details about Austin's schedule. The little gambling addict had folded so beautifully at the casino—all it took was a stack of her debt receipts and a few photos of her at those high-stakes tables, and some little cash to get her going.Elizabeth had been useless, of course. The old bat's mind was gone, floating somewhere between reality and whatever medication they'd pumped into her. I'd tried working that angle first, but you can't manipulate someone who can't remember your face five minutes after you leave. Waste of perfectly good plastic surgery.But Tina? Tina was my golden ticket straight into Aria's inner circle.My phone buzzed. Right on schedule."It's done," came the gruff voice. "Kid's car will have a little... malfunction... on Riverside Drive. Brake lin

~ Austin POV ~"The physical therapy sessions are going well, but we need to discuss the psychological impact."Dr. Martinez's voice cuts through the sterile hospital air as she flips through my chart. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, hospital gown hanging loose around my shoulders, and every muscle in my body screams when I try to straighten up."What kind of psychological impact?" Mom's voice is tight, controlled. She's been like this for days—wound so tight I'm afraid she might snap."Memory fragmentation is common with traumatic brain injuries. Austin may have gaps, or certain memories might feel... disconnected from reality."I watch Dad's jaw clench. He's been doing that a lot lately. "But his long-term memory is intact?""Yes, Mr. Walton. Family memories, childhood experiences—those appear unaffected. It's more about the trauma itself and the weeks leading up to it."The thing is, I remember everything about my family. I remember Alex teaching me chess when we were eight. I

~ Aria POV ~The mirror doesn't lie, but I wish it would.Dark circles ring my eyes like bruises. My hands shake as I reach for the concealer—again. Third time this morning, and it's not even seven AM. The makeup can't hide what's eating me from the inside out.*Jessica.*Her name burns through my skull like acid. Every breath feels stolen, every heartbeat borrowed time. She's out there somewhere, watching us. Planning. Waiting."Mom?" Austin's voice drifts through the bathroom door. "You okay in there?"I clear my throat, force steadiness into my voice. "Fine, sweetheart. Just... getting ready"The lie tastes bitter. Nothing's fine. Nothing's been fine since we figured out who's been hunting us like animals. My sister. My own blood.Austin's footsteps fade down the hallway. He's been doing better since the accident—physically, anyway. But I catch him staring out windows sometimes, that haunted look in his eyes. He remembers more than he lets on."Aria?" Michael's voice, closer now. H

~ Samantha POV ~ The doorbell rang at seven-thirty sharp. I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel, frowning at the unexpected visitor. David was working late again, and I wasn't expecting anyone.Through the peephole, I saw a woman I didn't recognize—blonde, elegant, wearing a cream-colored coat that screamed money. Something about her posture triggered a memory I couldn't quite grasp."Can I help you?" I called through the door."Samantha Torres?" The voice was smooth, cultured. "I'm Victoria Sterling. I'm... a friend of Aria's family. Could we talk? It's about her safety."My blood chilled. After everything that had happened to the Waltons—Austin's accident, the business attacks, the charity scandal—anyone claiming to know about Aria's safety had my full attention.I opened the door but kept the chain latched. "What about her safety?"Victoria smiled, and something cold slithered down my spine. "May I come in? This isn't something to discuss in a hallway."Every instinct screamed dan

The waiting room smells like vanilla candles and desperation. I shift in the beige chair, its fabric rough against my palms as I grip the armrests. Michael sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, but we might as well be on different planets."Mr. and Mrs. Walton?" The receptionist's voice cuts through the silence. "Dr. Martinez will see you now."Mrs. Walton. The name sits wrong in my mouth these days, like wearing clothes that don't quite fit anymore. I stand, smoothing down my skirt—a nervous habit I thought I'd broken years ago.Michael's hand hovers near my lower back as we walk toward the office, not quite touching but close enough that I feel the phantom pressure. He used to guide me like that everywhere. Before. When trust wasn't something we had to rebuild brick by brick.Dr. Martinez is younger than I expected, maybe early forties, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her office is all earth tones and tissues—lots of tissues. The c