All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Aria’s POV We returned to the estate just after midnight, exhaustion pressing down on all of us despite the restless energy still humming beneath it. Dmitri went straight to the study without pausing to rest, already pulling up property records before I’d even set down my bag. I followed him in, too wired to consider sleep despite how badly my body clearly needed it, the name Cedar Hollow repeating itself in my mind like something I couldn’t quite let go of. Something about the way Eleanor had said it, careful and deliberate, told me it mattered more than a passing detail. The others filtered in one by one, Romeo settling near Dmitri’s screen, Elena curling into the corner armchair with a blanket pulled around her shoulders, Romanov taking up his usual position near the window, watching everything with quiet, controlled attention. “Cedar Hollow isn’t a neighborhood I recognize,” he said, scanning through several databases in quick succession. “Rural. Small. About two hours north

Aria’s POV Marguerite’s cottage sat exactly as I remembered it from Ashgrove, small and unassuming, tucked at the edge of town behind a garden gone slightly wild with late-summer growth. Dmitri parked a short distance away, giving us room to approach without announcing our arrival too loudly. The drive here had passed mostly in silence, none of us quite sure what to say after everything Cedar Hollow had already given us. I kept the folded letters pressed carefully against my chest the entire way, as though holding them close might somehow keep my mother’s voice from fading before I understood what it had actually been trying to tell me. “Let me do this alone first,” I said, my hand already on the door handle. “Absolutely not,” Romanov said. “She trusted my mother,” I said. “She might actually talk to me, without an audience making her feel cornered.” Romanov studied me for a long moment, some internal argument working behind his tired eyes before he finally exhaled. “Dmitri sta

Aria’s POV Neither of us spoke on the drive back to the estate. Romanov kept one hand on the wheel and the other on my knee, like he needed to touch something solid after everything Vivian had just told us. “Someone close,” I said finally. “That’s what she said. Not a stranger.” “I heard her,” Romanov said. “Then who?” He didn’t answer. His jaw worked once, and I understood he was already running through faces in his head, the way I was. Faces that had poured our coffee, driven us places, stood quietly in the corners of rooms while we talked about things we thought were private. Dmitri was waiting in the study when we walked in, three monitors glowing in front of him instead of the usual one. He didn’t look up right away. “I started before you got back,” he said. “Staff records. Security logs. Everyone who’s had access to this house for more than five years.” “How many people is that?” I asked. “Eleven,” Dmitri said. “But only one of them has been here longer than the rest o

Aria’s POV Dmitri spread a printed layout of the old greenhouse across the study table, corners weighted down with whatever was closest, a coffee mug, a stapler, the small brass key still sitting in its evidence bag beside the map like something none of us wanted to touch again so soon. “It hasn’t been used in years,” Dmitri said. “Structurally, that works against us. Half the glass panels are gone. Sightlines are bad in almost every direction.” “Which means anyone could be watching from outside without us knowing,” Romanov said. “Or already inside,” Dmitri said. “We don’t know how early she’ll get there.” I leaned over the map, tracing the single narrow path leading up to the entrance. “There’s only one way in.” “One way in that we know of,” Romanov said. “Helena helped design half the security around this property. If there’s another way through those hedges, she’d know it before we ever found it ourselves.” That settled over the room heavier than I expected. Every advantage

Aria’s POV Helena didn’t move when I stepped inside. She stood near an old potting table, one hand resting on its cracked surface, dressed exactly as I’d always known her, plain and neat, nothing about her appearance suggesting the eight years of secrets Dmitri had uncovered in that hidden drawer. “You came alone,” she said. “Mostly.” “Mostly,” I agreed. “I’m not stupid, Helena.” “No,” she said. “You never were. I used to tell your mother that, you know. Back when I still had a way to tell her anything at all.” The mention of my mother caught me off guard. “You knew her?” “I knew of her,” Helena said. “Enough to understand what she gave up trying to protect you. More than most people in this house ever bothered to learn.” I stayed near the doorway, close enough to run if I needed to, far enough to keep some distance between us. “Why did you do it?” I asked. “The Correction. All of it.” Helena’s expression didn’t change, though something in her eyes shifted, old and tired in a