A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 160

Precise.

Jason.

He was moving toward Emilian without making a sound, each step measured, each movement hidden by the suit.

He was almost on him.

I did not react.

I did not let my expression change.

I kept my breathing steady and my eyes fixed forward, as if I had seen nothing.

Emilian continued speaking, too absorbed in his own delusions to notice.

“I will take care of you, Amber,” he said softly.

I said nothing.

“Before the end of the day,” he continued, his voice lowering into something more intimate and possessive, “you will be in my arms, begging to stay.”

My stomach turned.

“And once you understand how much better I can make you feel,” he added almost reverently, “you will never want to leave me.”

A sharp wave of disgust moved through me.

I winced before I could stop it.

Then I whispered, barely audible, “You should not have said that.”

Emilian smiled.

He mistook it for defiance.

For rebellion.

For something he could still control.

At least-

Until Jason hit him.

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The punch landed hard against Emilian’s face with a brutal crack. His body snapped sideways before crashing to the-ground.

Jason stepped over him, fury radiating from every line of his body.

“Stay the fuck away from my wife,” he said angrily.

For one stunned second, the room went silent.

Then Jason moved again.

There was no restraint in him now.

No calm strategy.

No measured control.

He did not stop at one blow.

He grabbed Emilian by the front of his shirt and dragged him up just enough to hit him again.

And again.

And again.

Every strike was precise.

Violent.

Personal.

Emilian tried to move, tried to recover, but Jason gave him no space to breathe and no chance to think.

I stood perfectly still, watching.

Because this was no longer a game.

This was the end of Emilian’s control.

And Jason was making sure he felt every second of it.

I watched Jason hit him again.

And again.

And again.

Each strike landed with the force of weeks of restraint finally broken.

Emilian was no longer fighting back. He could barely lift his arms, barely gather himself before Jason dragged him up and sent him crashing down again.

For a brief moment, I let it happen.

Because part of me understood it.

Part of me wanted it too.

But we did not have time.

2/4

The screens were still active.

The bombs were still real.

I stepped forward quickly.

“Jason.”

He did not stop.

He hit Emilian again.

“Jason.”

My voice was sharper this time.

He froze mid-motion, chest rising hard, one hand still fisted in Emilian’s shirt.

He turned his head slightly toward me, rage still burning in his eyes.

I held his gaze.

“Emilian has a device,” I said quickly. “According to him, it will blow up the Asher and Sun estates.”

The words cut through the room harder than any scream could have.

Jason went completely still.

The fury in him did not disappear.

It changed.

Focused.

Deadly.

He slowly released Emilian, letting him collapse back to the floor.

Then he crouched beside him, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing his face up.

“Where is it?” Jason asked coldly.

Emilian laughed weakly through bloodied lips.

A broken, ugly sound.

I stepped closer, my eyes moving across the room, already searching.

Because if there was a trigger-

We would find it.

And if there was not-

We would make him give it to us.

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3/4

Lost

Jason crouched beside him, one hand locked around Emilian’s jaw, forcing his face upward.

“Where is it?” Jason asked coldly.

Blood ran from the corner of Emilian’s mouth. For a second, he only stared.

Then something in him broke.

His breathing turned uneven. His eyes darted wildly, no longer focused, no longer controlled.

He began to whisper.

“No…”

His voice was thin and strained.

“No, she works alone.”

He shook his head weakly, as if trying to reject what he was seeing.

“She always works alone.”

His breathing became sharper.

“I made sure we were hidden. I made sure no one could find us.”

He was not speaking to us anymore.

He was speaking to the version of reality he had built for himself.

The lie he had lived inside.

I stepped closer and looked down at him. 1

“You were wrong,” I said calmly.

His eyes snapped to me.

“Jason was here from the start.”

Silence hit the room.

Real silence.

The kind that comes when something fundamental shatters.

Emilian’s face went pale beneath the bruises.

His lips moved, but no words came out.

Jason tightened his grip slightly and leaned closer.

“Amber does work with a team,” he said, his voice low and cutting.

A pause.

“But they have to be on the same level as her.”

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His expression hardened

And you are way below.”

The words landed harder than the punches had.

Emilian stared at him, breathing fast, panic replacing obsession.

For the first time since we entered that building-

He looked small.

And for the first time-

He understood he had already lost.For a moment, Emilian only stared at us.

Then he laughed.

The sound was wrong from the very first breath. 1

Too sharp.

Too high.

Too empty.

It echoed through the room in broken bursts, rising into something openly maniacal. There was no control left in it, no polished calm, no careful mask.

Only collapse.

Jason’s grip tightened, but Emilian kept laughing, blood on his mouth, eyes bright with madness.

Good.

Let him unravel.

Because while all of his attention was fixed on Jason-

Mine was elsewhere.

I turned back to the computer he had given me access to earlier.

The same system he had been so proud to control.

The same system he believed only he understood.

I sat down and my fingers moved across the keyboard immediately.

Fast.

Precise.

No wasted motion.

Behind me, I could still hear Emilian laughing, then coughing, then trying to speak through it.

I ignored him.

I was already inside his network.

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The interface opened in layers, hidden directories unfolding one after another as I bypassed his protections. Maps appeared on the screens.

The Asher estate.

The Sun estate.

Multiple red markers lit up across both properties.

Not one device.

Not two.

Multiple bombs.

My jaw tightened.

He had planned for mass casualties.

He had planned for chaos.

I opened the first control panel and began disconnecting the triggers.

One by one.

The first marker disappeared.

Then the second.

Then three more.

Behind me, Jason said something low and dangerous that I did not fully hear,

It did not matter.

I kept working.

There were too many devices, too many fail-safes, too many linked detonators.

But he had made one mistake.

He assumed panic would slow me down.

It never had.

I rerouted one circuit, killed another signal, and forced the next device offline.

More red markers vanished.

The Asher estate began to clear.

Then the Sun estate.

My breathing stayed steady.

My hands never hesitated.

Because every second mattered.

And while Emilian lost his mind behind me-

3/4

I was dismantling everything he had built.

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Not over

The last red tuarker disappeared from the screen.

Both estates were clear.

The bombs were offline.

For the first time since we entered that building, I allowed myself one slow breath.

Then I kept going.

Because I was already inside his system.

And men like Emilian never built only one layer of damage.

I opened the hidden financial directories buried beneath the security programs. Shell companies, ghost accounts unregistered holdings, transfers routed through names that did not exist.

Becker money.

Hidden money.

Stolen money.

My expression did not change.

I created two encrypted transfers and moved the first wave of funds out of their private accounts.

One account for Rose.

One account for Iris.

A small compensation for everything the Becker family had put them through.

Not enough.

But a beginning.

I continued digging deeper, exposing more hidden assets as I went. Properties, offshore reserves, undeclared investment pools, trust funds disguised under false entities.

I began to siphon them out.

Some I froze.

Some I rerouted.

And much of it, I sent directly into verified charitable foundations, shelters, children’s programs, and legal aid organizations.

Let their money repair what they had spent years destroying.

Behind me, Jason had moved away from Emilian and was already on his phone.

His voice was clipped and cold.

“It’s clear,” he said. “Move now.”

A pause.

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7

Then-

(es. Bring everyone.”

He ended the call and looked at the screen, straight at me.

I nodded.

Minutes later, the building changed.

Heavy footsteps thundered through the corridors.

Commands were shouted.

Doors were breached.

The first team entered in tactical gear, weapons raised, followed by police officers securing every room behind them.

Military.

Police.

Prepared.

Efficient.

They moved toward the bound Beckers first, cutting restraints and calling for medical support.

Others moved for Emilian.

He was dragged up from the floor in cuffs, still bleeding, still laughing under his breath.

No one looked amused. 1

No one looked merciful.

I turned back to the screen and completed one final transfer before shutting the system down.

Then I stood.

The game was over.

And this time-

We had taken everything back.

I was about to shut the system down when something else caught my eye.

More red markers.

Hidden in secondary folders, buried beneath the estate files I had already cleared.

I opened them immediately.

My jaw tightened.

The Becker family property.

The Vinny estate.

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He had planted bombs there too.

Not just against us.

Against everyone.

Even his own blood.

Of course he had.

By the end, destruction was all he had left.

I did not hesitate.

My fingers moved across the keyboard again, breaking through the additional controls, isolating the triggers, forcing the devices offline one by one.

The first marker vanished.

Then another.

Then three more.

The Becker property cleared.

I shifted to the Vinny estate and repeated the process, moving faster now, tearing through his remaining safeguards with no patience left for precision.