A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 168

I was catching up quickly.

Sun was not finished.

“He also offered to buy your company.”

Now I laughed.

Short.

Sharp.

Disbelieving.

“To take it off your hands,” my grandfather said flatly.

The room went quiet again.

There it was.

The real move.

Not gratitude.

Not recognition.

Acquisition.

Control.

He had publicly praised me, aligned himself with heroism, tied my name to national service, and then positioned himself as the man ready to “help” by removing the burden of ownership.

Elegant.

Predatory.

I rested my elbow on the table and touched my temple lightly.

“So,” I said calmly, “he tried to flatter me, recruit me, and buy me in a single statement.”

Mrs. Sun nodded.

“With excellent media response,” she said bitterly.

Of course there was media response.

Men like Martin always made sure applause arrived on schedule.

I looked at my grandfather.

“What price did he offer?”

My grandfather’s mouth tightened.

“Insulting.”

That almost amused me more than the statement itself.

I turned to Jason.

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“Well.”

Asmall smile formed.

Cold.

Interested.

“It seems Mr. Vinny would like to play.”

Everyone at the table knew that look on my face now.

The one that appeared when I stopped reacting-

and started planning.

I turned to Jason.

“Call Mr. Stait.”

His brows lifted slightly.

Not in confusion.

In interest.

“Oh?”

I nodded once.

“Yes,”

I folded my hands on the table and smiled faintly.

“I’ll accept the job he offered me last night.”

That changed the room immediately.

Mrs. Sun sat straighter.

Mr. Sun looked intrigued.

My grandfather narrowed his eyes in approval.

Jason, however, studied me for one long second.

He knew me too well to believe this was about employment.

Still, he reached for his phone.

“You already have a plan.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Several,” I replied.

He called.

The line rang only once.

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Then connected.

ason,” came John Stait’s voice, alert despite the early hour. “This better be interesting.”

Jason glanced at me and handed over the phone.

“It is,” he said.

I took it.

“Mr. Stait.”

There was a pause.

Then warmth entered his tone immediately.

“Amber. Have you reconsidered my offer already?”

“I have,” I said calmly. “I’ll accept.”

The table watched me in complete silence.

John Stait did not answer immediately.

When he did, the amusement was gone.

He sounded focused.

Professional.

“Then I need your location.”

I blinked.

“My location?”

,” he said. “What I need to discuss with you is sensitive information.”

“Yes,”

A pause.

“It cannot be shared electronically.”

The room shifted again.

Even Jason’s expression sharpened.

Interesting.

I looked around the fairy house.

Then back at the table.

He was serious.

Which meant whatever came next mattered.

I lifted the phone again.

“I’ll send a driver to the gate,” I said. “You know where to find me.”

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A brief silence.

“I do.”

The call ended.

I handed the phone back to Jason.

Mrs. Sun spoke first.

“Well.”

My grandfather leaned forward slightly.

“What did you just agree to?”

I smiled.

Slowly.

“I suppose,” I said, “we’re about to find out.”

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Twenty two

Amber POV

John Stait arrived less than an hour later.

He came with only one vehicle and minimal security, which told me either he trusted the location-or trusted himself.

Possibly both.

The gates opened, and the moment his car rolled onto the property, he slowed.

By the time he stepped out, he was openly staring at the house.

The towers.

The stone bridges.

The little moat.

The gardens.

The impossible fairytale silhouette against the daylight.

For once, the Secretary of Defense looked genuinely surprised.

“So this,” he said slowly, “is the fairy house.”

The name had stuck after Alex said it.

No one had questioned it since.

“It is,” I replied.

He looked around once more and shook his head with amused disbelief.

“I have seen government compounds less impressive than this.”

Jason opened the door for him.

“Try not to offer to buy it,” he said dryly.

John laughed and followed us inside.

We led him to the office.

A quieter room lined with books, screens, maps, and the kind of intentional order that helped me think clearly.

Jason closed the door behind us.

The three of us took our seats.

John did not waste time.

“What caused the sudden change?” he asked, looking directly at me. “Last night you wanted sleep. Today you accepted.”

Fair question.

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“I was able to rest,” I said.

en I told him about Martin Vinny’s statement.

The praise.

The public gratitude.

The military invitation.

The offer to buy my company.

Every polished insult hidden inside polished words.

John listened without interrupting.

When I finished, he leaned back slowly.

“So this is retaliation.”

“It is strategy,” I corrected.

That earned the smallest smile.

“Good,” he said.

Then his expression turned serious.

“In that case, let me explain the position.”

The room seemed to sharpen with him.

Even Jason went still beside me.

“We have been trying to locate a group of teenagers who were taken several weeks ago.”

My posture changed instantly.

“Taken by who?” 2

“We don’t know the full structure yet,” he said. “An organization. Layered. Careful. Well-funded.”

He slid a thin file across the desk.

“What we do know is their methods.”

I opened it.

Photos.

Transit records.

Maps.

Fragments.

And then I saw it.

Hidden surveillance.

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False invitations.

Controlled environments.

Psychological games.