บททั้งหมดของ THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET HEIR : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

That was the night we finally stopped being victims. It was just past midnight when our dining room turned into a war room. Eleanor arrived first, still in her robe, hair loose and messy, but her eyes were sharp as ever. She walked in like she owned the battlefield. “Tell me everything.”Thomas and Sarah came next. They’d left the kids with a neighbor. Thomas carried his laptop, Sarah had her notepad ready. You could tell just by looking at them they were already thinking like architects, searching for the weak points in the structure.Marcus Chen joined on video from his home office, tie loosened, coffee in hand. “I cleared my schedule. Whatever you need.”We gathered around the table with the kids sleeping upstairs and guards outside. The energy in the room felt different this time. We weren’t just reacting anymore. We were planning.Caleb laid it all out, his voice heavy. “Harrison Jr. is suing us for fifty million,harassment, defamation. He’s also filed complaints trying to get me

Marcus’s office felt like a trap closing in. We sat there stiff, eyes glued to the printed pages. Fake texts from our numbers. Cold threats staring back at us. “I’m going to destroy you. You’ll regret coming after my family.”“Watch your back. Accidents happen.”My throat closed up. Caleb’s jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. “None of this is ours,” he growled.Marcus looked pale, rubbing his forehead like it hurt. “I know. But it looks real as hell. He’s setting up self-defense. When he comes for you, he’ll say you left him no choice.”“We never sent them,” I choked out.“They were spoofed,” Marcus said. “Looks like your phones, but they never touched them. Pro job, expensive.”Caleb leaned forward, fists tight. “So we grab real records…”“Already checked. Courts don’t buy it easy. Forensic guy can prove the messages didn’t come from your actual devices, but he can’t swear you didn’t set it up some other way. We’re stuck unless we track the real sender. That takes months.

That note on Evan’s pillow tore me apart.Someone had stood in our children’s room while we slept. Right beside their beds, while our babies were completely defenseless. I stood frozen in the doorway, chest tight, unable to breathe. The bed looked untouched, but the violation felt like a knife in my gut.Detective Morrison examined the note with gloved hands, his face grave. “No forced entry. No prints, they bypassed the system like professionals. Military or ex-law enforcement. This wasn’t amateur.”Caleb’s voice came out flat and broken. “He hired someone.”“Someone very good,” Morrison replied. “An average guy couldn’t pull this off.”I barely got the words out. “What the hell do we do now?”“Upgrade security immediately and think hard about leaving the city. This is escalating fast.”-----We moved to Eleanor’s that morning. Bigger house. It didn't matter, nowhere felt safe. The security team arrived, former military, stone-faced. “Military-grade. Cameras everywhere, motion sensor

I got an email from the woman who once tried to kill me. It hit my inbox that night. Encrypted. Subject line: “I can help.”Rebecca Moore. Patricia’s daughter, the psychotic bitch who stalked me for months, attacked me, and left me bleeding. Now locked away in a psych ward. I hovered over delete until my finger shook. Every single part of me screamed “trap, you idiot, trap”. But we were so fucking desperate I opened it anyway.“Lena, I know what Harrison Jr. is planning. I was exactly like him. Obsessed, raging, destroying everything because of my mom’s death. I got help. Medications, therapy. I’m better now. He won’t get help on his own. I know his patterns because I lived them. I know his weakness. Let me stop him before he destroys you the way I almost destroyed you….Rebecca”I read it three times, my stomach twisting into knots.Caleb leaned over my shoulder, breath catching. “What the actual fuck? Rebecca?”“Yeah,” I whispered.“She tried to “kill”you, Lena!” His voice cracked wi

Grace’s flash drive was pure dynamite. Marcus Chen spent two straight days locked in with a forensic accountant, going through every file, email, and spreadsheet. What they uncovered made me sick.User numbers pumped up by forty percent. Security breaches swept under the rug. Revenue numbers built on total bullshit. This wasn’t just an obsession anymore. These were real crimes. Securities fraud, lying to investors, false filings with the SEC.Grace sat at our kitchen table, staring at the documents she had signed without thinking. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking as she ran her finger over her own signature.“I trusted him,” she said, her voice cracking. “He was my big brother. The one who always looked out for me. I just signed wherever he pointed. Didn’t even bother reading the damn things.”She swallowed hard, eyes wet. “Now I see everything. Fake financials, phony metrics, hidden debts. The SEC would crucify him with this.”Marcus nodded. “It’s more than enough for a full federal i