Semua Bab A woman worth billions, dated the wrong brother: Bab 1 - Bab 9

My name was never on the building, but my fingerprints were everywhere.Oscar and I met in college, when ambition tasted like cheap coffee and borrowed textbooks. We were twenty—dreaming recklessly, believing love and hard work could carry us anywhere. He had vision. Big, dazzling ideas. I had precision. I knew how to turn those ideas into something banks, investors, and city councils would trust.We grew together.Or so I believed.Seven years later, we were twenty-seven, billionaires in the headlines, engaged in theory—and still waiting on a wedding Oscar kept postponing.There was always a reason.After the next funding round.After the next acquisition.After the market stabilizes.I told myself patience was love. That timing mattered. That my future wasn’t being delayed—it was being protected.While Oscar sold dreams, I built foundations.When the company was young and desperate for cash, banks wouldn’t lend and investors laughed us out of rooms. That was when I stepped in. I use

Jason didn’t waste time. He led me to a private conference room on the top floor of the building—not Oscar’s company, but the investment firm that quietly owned pieces of half the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Soundproof walls. The kind of space where decisions were made before the world ever heard about them. He waited until the door closed. Then he said, “I want to propose a marriage.” I didn’t laugh. I didn’t flinch. I studied him. “Is this where you pretend it’s romantic?” I asked. His mouth curved slightly. “No. I don’t insult people’s intelligence.” Good. “This would be contractual,” Jason continued. “Public. Legal. Mutually beneficial.” I folded my arms. “Start with why.” He nodded once. “My company is growing. Fast. We acquire distressed corporations, restructure them, and sell or rebuild them stronger. That kind of growth attracts attention—investors, regulators, media. A clean, stable, family-oriented image reassures all of them.” I said nothing. “I need a w

Jason’s car waited at the curb—sleek, black, impossibly new. The kind of car that didn’t ask for attention, yet took it anyway. Mason handed Jason the keys and disappeared without ceremony. “You move fast,” I said as Jason opened the door for me. “I move prepared,” he replied. The city slipped past us in reflections of glass and steel. Jason drove with the calm certainty of a man who never relied on luck. “We’re going to city hall,” he said evenly. I turned toward him. “Already?” “Yes. Everything is arranged. Licenses approved. A civil ceremony. Private.” I nodded. No hesitation. As we neared the building, movement on the steps caught my eye. Oscar and Amelie were exiting city hall. Amelie wore a white ensemble—tailored, expensive, unmistakably bridal without the weight of a gown. Her arm was linked through Oscar’s, her smile radiant, victorious. They didn’t look our way. They didn’t see us. Jason waited until they disappeared into the crowd before pulling into a space di

I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. I didn’t look back, or mourned the life and the years i will never get back, lost forever. I just went home, time to pack and say goodbye to my old life. The penthouse doors opened with biometric recognition the moment I stepped inside. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Marble under my heels. The skyline bending beneath me like something I owned. Because I did. Oscar liked to call it our penthouse. He liked to imply he bought it. He liked the way people assumed it was his. I walked straight to the security panel by the entrance. Access Control. I entered my master code. Changed the entry sequence. Updated facial recognition. Removed one name. Oscar White — Access Revoked. Then I opened the residents and visitor log. Deleted his name entirely. No hesitation. No ceremony. The intercom chimed. “Yes?” I answered. “Miss Ash,” security said carefully, “There is a lady requesting acces under Mr. White, per your most recent instructions access was not

My feet moved before my mind could catch up. In two strides, I reached them. My hand shot out, gripping the woman’s forearm mid-motion. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She stiffened. Slowly, she turned her head and gave me a once-over—from my heels to my face—clearly unimpressed. “And who are you?” she asked coolly. “Do you have any idea who I am?” Her chin lifted. “I am the future Mrs. Sun. I don’t know who you think you are, but my fiancé will make sure you regret touching me.” Future Mrs. Sun? I laughed. Soft. Unbothered. Then I stepped forward, placing myself fully in front of Alison, shielding her small shaking body. “Lady,” I said calmly, “I don’t know who you think you are…” I raised my left hand. “…but you are not Mrs. Sun.” The diamond caught the low garden lights, flashing sharply between us. Her expression faltered. Just slightly. Footsteps echoed across the stone path behind us. Several pairs. The woman’s face changed instan