บททั้งหมดของ A Woman Worth Billions, Dated the Wrong Brother: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

We opened the door to find Marcus standing outside. He looked exasperated. Finally. “What took you so long?” he demanded. “The media is frantic. The edited video is already circulating, and the conference is supposed to be starting shortly.” I didn’t rush. Didn’t apologize. I simply smiled. “Marcus,” I said calmly, stepping past him, “it is my conference. It will start the moment I say it does.” He blinked once. Then twice. Control. Jason chuckled softly behind me. “Marcus,” he said lightly, adjusting his cufflinks, “are you low on cases lately? Why are you trying to take Mason’s job?” Marcus exhaled sharply. “I am trying to prevent a media disaster.” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Where is my assistant?” “Clara is ready,” Marcus replied. “And Mason is currently with Ms. Sun. She requested his help.” Of course she did. Madam Sun never moved without a reason. “What is she planning?” I asked. Marcus hesitated. “That depends,” he said carefully, “on how aggressive you wan

We were nearing the end of the conference. The tension had settled. The narrative had been corrected. Now it was time to consolidate. “As part of Phoenix Ashes’ growth strategy,” I continued, “we are expanding aggressively across multiple divisions.” The screen shifted again — organizational charts, projected growth curves, acquisition targets. “And with that expansion comes opportunity.” I allowed a small pause. “I am officially opening applications for assistant and management-track positions.” Several reporters glanced up. “That includes recent graduates,” I clarified. “If you believe you are exceptional at what you do, we will find a place for you.” A quiet ripple passed through the room. Confidence. Ambition. No small dreams. “We are not hiring to fill chairs,” I added. “We are hiring to build something, please contact the company via email with your information and we will set and interview date, it does not matter who your family is, if You did not have the best

Jason and I entered the car in silence. No reporters. No cameras. Just the hum of the engine and the weight of what had just happened. The city lights blurred past the window as we headed toward the Asher estate. Victoria’s video. Mario’s statement. The pictures. The narrative twisting. I was already reconstructing timelines in my head. Timestamps. Guest lists. Event records. Security footage. There had to be a clean way to dismantle it. But beside me— Jason was too quiet. Not calm. Cold. The air around him felt sharp. Controlled anger. The kind that simmers. I turned toward him slowly. “Jason,” I said softly. No response. His jaw was tight. His hand flexed once over his knee. I reached up and placed my hand against his cheek, forcing him to look at me. “We have to think about the kids,” I murmured. “This will reach their school. Their friends. Do you have something planned? Because I was thinking—” He removed my hand. Not violently. But firmly. “Not no

The restaurant was discreet. Private room. Low lighting. Quiet enough to think. Not quiet enough to avoid cameras. I noticed them halfway through dinner. Two flashes from across the street. A reflection in the glass. Paparazzi. Of course. Antone noticed too. Madison noticed first. She shifted her chair immediately — closer to me. Purposefully. Blocking angles. Smart girl. “I’ll sit here,” she said casually. “They’ll crop it if I’m centered.” I blinked. “You noticed?” She rolled her eyes lightly. “You used to teach me situational awareness, remember?” Right. I had. When she was thirteen. When I used to babysit her during college breaks. When she would insist I teach her “real things.” Like fighting. Like self-defense. Like how to read a room before it reads you. She smiled suddenly. “You used to be more out there,” she said, studying me carefully. “More… untouchable. You didn’t care what people thought.” Antone leaned back in his chair. “She’s right,” he

The estate was quiet when I returned. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that feels deliberate. I removed my helmet slowly, placing it on the console by the entrance. The housekeepers pretended not to notice the time. I walked toward the living room. He was there. Jason. Sitting upright on the couch. Elbows on his knees. Hands clasped together. At first glance, he looked composed. Still. Controlled. The heir. The strategist. But the moment he heard my steps— He looked up. And little by little— I could see him breaking. Not dramatically. Just… fracturing at the edges. His jaw was tight. His eyes darker than usual. Not angry. Afraid. “You’re back,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Just… steadying himself. “Yes.” Silence stretched between us. He stood slowly. As if unsure whether he was allowed to. “I watched the pictures,” he said. Ah. Of course he had. “Dinner,” I replied calmly. “With Antone and his niece.” “I know who Antone is.” There was no jealousy in