บททั้งหมดของ A woman worth billions, dated the wrong brother: บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 180

Amber POVBy the time Mr. Sun arrived at the base, Jason was unraveling in a way I had never seen before.Not loudly. Not visibly to anyone who did not know him.But I did.He could not stay still.He paced the length of Mr. Stait’s office over and over again, measured steps that were anything but calm. His hands flexed at his sides, then crossed, then dropped again. Every movement was controlled—and completely restless at the same time.The tension in the room had shifted entirely.Emory had stopped speaking.Mr. Stait watched in silence.Even the screens had gone ignored.Jason kept walking.Back and forth.Again.And again.I leaned against the desk, watching him, arms crossed, trying—failing—to remain patient.“Jason…” I warned once.He didn’t even hear me.Another turn.Another pass.Another silent storm contained in too small a space.I exhaled sharply.I was one second away from physically tackling him to the ground just to make him stop moving.And then—The door opened.Every

Mr. Sun did not stop. He carried the story forward with the same measured control, but now there was something darker beneath it—something closer to anger. “We did not get more information at the time,” he said. “An ambulance arrived and took her to the hospital. We gave our statements to the police.” Jason’s eyes had not left him. “When we arrived at the hospital and asked for Rebeca,” Mr. Sun continued, “one of the nurses informed us that her husband had checked her out.” A pause. “Against medical advice.” Of course he had. “Two weeks later,” Mr. Sun said, his voice tightening almost imperceptibly, “we were informed by the police that she had died on site.” The room went still. “But she was alive when they took her.” The contradiction sat there. Heavy. Deliberate. “The funeral was closed casket,” he added. Jason’s jaw clenched. “But something was wrong.” Mr. Sun’s gaze softened just slightly—not weakness, but memory. “Your grandmother,” he said, “has always had… ex

Amber POVMr. Sun did not soften what came next.He looked directly at Jason, his expression steady, unflinching.“Your father is the one who sold you.”The words landed without decoration.Without mercy.“We believe he may have even sold his wife as well,” he continued. “In order to secure the funds he needed.”No one moved.“We were never able to determine exactly what they intended to accomplish with you,” Mr. Sun said. “By the time we found you…”He paused.“You were already far ahead of your age.”Jason’s gaze had gone distant.“You could read. Write. Solve complex problems.”A breath.“It was difficult to get you to behave like a child at all.”My chest tightened.“The only time you seemed to lower your guard…”Mr. Sun’s voice softened slightly.“Was with the other heirs.”Something shifted in Jason then.Not violently.Not dramatically.The fight simply… left him.“My father sold me,” Jason said quietly.Not a question.Not disbelief.A fact settling into place.“And you still

Amber POV“Someone is trying to make the heirs obsolete,” I said at last, the thought no longer abstract, no longer a suspicion, but something that had taken shape and refused to be ignored.“They’re not just removing them.”I shook my head, slowly, deliberately.“They’re breaking them. Reshaping them. Weakening them.”The words settled heavily in the room, each one finding its place among the fragments of truth we had been gathering.“So that when the time comes…”My voice softened, not in doubt, but in certainty.“They are no longer capable of leading.”Silence answered me.“They want control of the families.”And yet—Even as the conclusion formed, something in it resisted. Something incomplete.“But why?”I looked at them all—at Mr. Sun, at Mr. Stait, at Emory, at Jason—each of them carrying power in different ways, each of them part of something larger than themselves.“It’s not like the four families hold all the power.”A quiet breath.“We are simply the most visible.”That was

Amber POVWhat followed was absolute chaos.Not the loud kind at first. Not shouting or panic.The kind of chaos born from too many truths colliding in the same room, each revelation splintering another illusion we had once believed was stable.My grandfather arrived less than an hour later.He entered Mr. Stait’s office with his usual composed authority, silver hair perfectly arranged, dark coat draped over one arm, expression carved into something unreadable. Yet I knew him too well not to notice the exhaustion beneath it.And beside him—To everyone’s surprise—Was Iris.Jason stood immediately.“What is she doing here?” he demanded, protectiveness sharpening every syllable.Iris did not flinch.She stepped fully into the room, shoulders straight despite her age, silver-blonde hair tied neatly behind her head. She looked too calm for a child who had survived what she had. Too composed.“She made the decision herself,” my grandfather said before anyone else could speak. “Mr. Stuart