บททั้งหมดของ A Woman Worth Billions, Dated the Wrong Brother: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Adrian left the office, but not before stopping at the door. “You will regret ever standing in my way, Amber.” His voice was low. Controlled. Promising. Then he walked out. I remained standing in front of Grandfather’s desk, the Zoom meeting still active behind me. The screen displayed a grid of faces — cousins from the Second and Third Houses watching with undisguised interest. Not just spectators. Potential competitors. Grandfather addressed them calmly. “Any direct blood member of the First, Second, or Third House who wishes to enter the Heir Trial may declare their intention before the end of the day.” The reaction was immediate — whispers, exchanged glances, silent calculations. More than one of them looked tempted. Grandfather ended the call. The screen went dark. For a moment, the room felt heavier. He leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking older. “Your cousin Adrian has a backer, Amber.” My fingers tightened slightly. “I don’t know who it is yet,”

The material shortage did affect my remaining capital. But not by much. Unlike Adrian, I wasn’t scrambling to secure properties. They were already under my name. Fully transferred. Fully documented. Untouchable. The delays cost me time, not ownership — and in our world, ownership was power. And Jason… Jason was a blessing more than ever. While Adrian postured in front of cameras, Jason made two quiet phone calls. Under his corporate umbrella were two manufacturing lines — dormant divisions he had kept after restructuring his family holdings. Steel fabrication and high-end interior composite production. Enough to cover the missing inventory. Enough to restart every single renovation site within seventy-two hours. By the fourth day, our crews were moving again. By the sixth, progress reports were ahead of their original projections. Adri

Control the assistant. Control the calendar. Control the information. Control the battlefield. Jason’s hand brushed mine briefly — grounding, not possessive. “I trust your instincts,” he said. And that was the difference. He never told me what to do. He simply stood beside me while I did it. I stepped forward. One hundred and fifty pairs of eyes followed. “Good morning,” I said, voice steady. “I hope you’re all prepared to be evaluated under pressure.” A ripple of surprise moved through the room. “I don’t hire based on résumés,” I continued. “I hire based on crisis response.” A few people shifted uncomfortably. Good. “Phones on the table,” I ordered. Murmurs. Hesitation. Three people froze. Interesting. Security moved instantly. And that’s when it happened. One of the phones lit up. A notification preview flashed across the screen before it was locked away. Conference Strategy — FINAL EDIT. My conference strategy. The one only five peopl

That same night, grandfather stayed with the children. Jason and I had a different battlefield to attend. A gala. My company was still new to the market. Even with media exposure, I could not afford to appear arrogant or inaccessible to established corporations. Reputation, especially in this city, was currency. And when Pamela informed me we had been formally invited to the city’s Public Image Restoration Fundraiser— I couldn’t refuse. The irony wasn’t lost on me. The last event of this scale I attended… I was on Oscar’s arm. Smiling. Decorative. Silent. His fiancée. Tonight— I represented my own company. And I would walk in as a CEO. Side by side with my husband. We dressed at the hotel. The penthouse suite overlooked the skyline, lights glittering like ambition itself. Our clothes had already been prepared. Jason’s tuxedo — tailored charcoal with subtle satin lapels. Clean. Controlled. Powerful. My gown hung near the window. Navy green.

The gala had changed. Music still played. Champagne still flowed. But the air had sharpened. One of the Becker sisters — Miriam — stepped into the center of the ballroom, her concern loud enough to be overheard. “Has anyone seen Mrs. Amber?” A contributor nearby cleared his throat eagerly. “I saw her leave. She seemed unsteady. A man with glasses escorted her upstairs.” Murmurs. Phones rising. Miriam pressed her hand dramatically to her chest. “Oh dear… that doesn’t look good.” Her eyes moved strategically through the crowd. “If she’s alone in that state, someone could take advantage of her.” Gasps. “Security,” she ordered, “find her immediately.” Minutes later, a member of her security team returned — loudly. “Mrs. Amber entered Suite 333 with an unidentified male.” Silence. Shock. Suite 333. Not her joint suite. Miriam’s expression hardened. “Open it.” The hotel manager hesitated. “That suite is privately owned.” “And this hotel,”