All Chapters of My Millionaire Husband’s Secret: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Honestly, I’d rather not indulge in Colin’s request simply because it seems like he’s trying to play Jessie’s martyr, but I can’t completely dismiss the logic behind Lincoln’s email. His argument about needing to investigate further holds weight, and there’s certainly a reason to dig deeper into this situation. Alan, this mistress and his other claims do seem far too coincidental to dismiss altogether so I decided otherwise and entertain these theories - getting straight to work.Alan James is, by all accounts, a wealthy man. And with wealth, comes not only means but also a clear motive. Lincoln made an interesting point in his email when he mentioned that Alan didn’t exactly take kindly to Jessie’s request for a divorce. It’s easy to see why—divorce is never pretty, but for someone of Alan’s stature, the stakes are higher. A public divorce, especially one involving significant wealth, would not only damage his reputation but also cost him a considerable chunk of his fortune, which wo

After creating a bulletin board decorated with multiple notes and pieces of information collected by Mike and I over the course of our digging, we decided to head to the resting bunks and take a quick break. It had been almost twenty hours on the clock and we were expected back at the hospital soon to go over the proceedings to follow for Jessie as told to us by our Sargent. We also needed to ask her a few questions if we hoped to have any clarity on certain aspects in our findings.That is - if Jessie is willing to tell us what is going on. Although we weren’t exactly going to push for any explanations after all that’s she’s been through recently.After what felt like only a fleeting moment of rest, Mike and I found ourselves back on our feet—coffee cups in hand, the faint promise of sleep already fading into a distant dream. The exhaustion clung to us like a heavy coat, the kind you forget to take off even after coming inside. But rest would have to wait. Until we wrapped up this me

It had been forty‑eight hours since Alan had spoken to me. Forty‑eight hours—longer than he’d ever stayed away. No matter how angry or busy, he’d always come back within a few hours. Now silence stretched, and it tasted like a dare. Was this a power play? He was waiting to see if I’d bend, if I’d call, beg for forgiveness for something I hadn’t done. Me—who had born his child, who’d moved in next door under an alias, who’d slept in cheap motels to watch him walk by, sneak in and then return to his wife, leaving me to raise his son alone? I’d waited years. I’d given everything. He was supposed to have divorced her by now. That was our agreement. He had excuses—thin, useless things I was supposed to believe. The inheritance - like her inheritance compared to the multimillion dollar company he’s built. Tormenting her - like he needed to continue being married to her to do that. And lastly, mocking her and her sanity - as though that were more important than being with me. He had a part

I’m thankful to Lincoln for telling Officer Miller and Pennet to leave. It’s not that I felt cornered or afraid at the idea of facing the judge in his chambers for my proceedings — although that was frightening too. It was everything I’d been told in such a short amount of time; the questions, the revelations. It was overwhelming and overbearing.Alan’s father used to do business with my father. Not only that, but he blamed my father for his company going under instead of admitting his gambling addictions to his family. He never came clean before he took his own life — leaving a note for Alan to find him. Left him with so much trauma and resentment that once he found out I was Jeffrey Adler’s daughter, he started to resent me too.And that meant it was entirely possible he’d been tormenting me and mistreating me solely because of that. But that didn’t explain why he’d continue our marriage. It didn’t explain the tracking devices either. His company was worth far more than my inherit

After Lincoln and Ivy cleared the pizzas and crumpled paper plates from the bedside table, I felt my stomach twist. I knew Ivy would want an update—she’d been watching me the whole night with that mix of concern and curiosity she couldn’t hide. Lincoln hadn’t told her much; he’d been too focused on making sure I didn’t fall apart. “So… how are you, Jessie?” Ivy asked gently, sliding closer with concern. Her voice was soft, but her eyes searched my face like she expected cracks to appear and she wanted to patch them up the moment they did. “I’m doing better,” I said, even though the word felt like a lie. My chest tightened and I shifted, cradling my arm against the sling. “I have a broken clavicle, fractured scapula, and a few broken ribs… but I’m healing.” The next part clawed its way up my throat. “I just hope I’m not indicted for murder.” The word murder burned as it left my tongue, like something toxic I shouldn’t have spoken aloud. I blinked hard, trying to chase away the panic t