All Chapters of My Millionaire Husband’s Secret: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Miller and I share a confused glance as we watch our victims husband take a stand and leave the interrogation room without so much as another word after refusing to help his possible co-accomplice.“What the hell was that?” Miller asks slowly in utter disbelief. “I think he came in looking for leverage to use against her.” I say as I turn to look at the window of Blaire’s interrogation room.“And we just have it to him..” miller said flatly.“The question is why a man with so much money - who could easily buy an effortless amount of resources would ever stoop to low as to look for leverage here?” He’s a millionaire and this woman came from poverty with hatred for a soul.“Maybe Blaire has more power against Alan than he’s able to buy to use against her.” I turn quickly to look at Miller when he finishes his sentence.“You might be on to something!” I walk out of the room and back to our board of leads and collected data from days and weeks prior and begin tearing off pages.“What the

“Okay,” Alan says, settling back into the couch across from me with infuriating ease, one ankle resting over his knee, “now you know exactly what to do. We walk through that door and you’ll address me like I’m your patient. I’ll be the depressed, devoted husband—remorseful, earnest, desperate to make amends. You’ll be completely oblivious to my connection to Jessie until the moment we lock eyes. From there, you dive into the state of our marriage. Find out where she stands. Figure out how I can win her back.”He smiles, confident. “Easy enough, right?”I clasp my hands tightly in my lap, fingers interlacing until my knuckles blanch. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Alan.” My voice comes out quieter than I intend. “I may have hated Jessie at first—and I won’t pretend I didn’t play a role in what happened to her—but I’ve come to feel sorry for her. She isn’t a bad person. She’s been through an unbelievable amount of trauma.”My gaze drops to my hands, to the glossy orange polis

I watch Jessie walk out of the office with Alan close behind her, unease curling tightly in my gut. Alan was not someone you trusted—ever—and the way he lingered just half a step behind her felt calculated, possessive.My attention shifts to Dr. Smithsdale, who remains standing near her desk, frozen in place with a carefully curated, professional smile. Too careful. Too composed.There’s something about her eyes that strikes me as familiar—and not in a comforting way—but I can’t quite place it. Not yet. My concern is firmly locked on Jessie.“Can I offer you some water?” she finally asks, breaking the silence.“No, thank you.” I glance at her cautiously, my gaze lingering longer than polite. “Dr. Smithsdale, is it?”“It is,” she replies smoothly.“I have a question.”She stiffens, clearly not expecting that. “Yes?”“Doesn’t marriage counseling usually occur between both spouses,” I ask evenly, “rather than just one party?”Something wasn’t right here, and I wanted answers—now.“Well,

“We’re five minutes out!” I say into the phone, already hanging up as I pivot toward Mike.“Mike—abduction. White Tesla. Owner is Alan Smith. Call it. Now. Let’s move!”“What the hell—who did he abduct?!” Mike demands, fingers flying across his keyboard as he inputs the alert.“He’s got Jessie,” I snap.Mike freezes mid-keystroke. His face hardens, jaw locking as he slowly looks up at me.“Posted,” he says flatly. “Let’s go.”We bolt for the patrol car. I barely get the doors unlocked before Mike yanks the keys from my hand and slides into the driver’s seat.“Get the fuck in!” he shouts.I’m already moving. “Dr. Smithsdale’s Therapy, Eastside. Lincoln’s there—holding the therapist hostage. She’s involved!” I bark as the engine roars to life and the tires screech onto the highway.“Wait—Smithsdale?” Mike asks, flipping on the sirens and slamming the accelerator. “Isn’t that the therapist you said gave you a bad feeling?”“The same one,” I say grimly. “I knew something was off.”“Your g

I have to find her.The thought loops in my head like a siren as I sprint across the parking lot, rip open my car door, and swerve onto the highway. My tires squeal as I cut across lanes, barely registering the honks behind me.A red light slams my momentum to a halt.I yank my phone from my pocket and try to pull up Jessie’s location—she’d shared it with me months ago, just in case. The screen loads… then freezes.No service.“Dammit!” I snarl, punching the steering wheel hard enough to sting.Think, Lincoln. Think.He wouldn’t take her to his house—that’s too obvious. The warehouse is a known crime scene. His other villas would be the first places anyone would look. So where?The light turns green just as the answer clicks into place.The university.I slam my foot down on the gas. Near the old college campus, there’s a mountainside overlook—quiet, secluded. Jessie used to go there with Alan when they first started dating. She told me once it felt like the world disappeared up there