A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 185

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Power

Amber POV

Amber sighed and looked from John Stait to Emory Watson with visible disbelief.

“How,” she asked calmly, “is the evidence I just handed over not enough to keep them behind bars?”

Neither man answered immediately.

So she continued.

“I presented one of the bombs that was placed at the university. The one I deactivated in the warehouse where was forced to play their little game.”

Her voice remained level, but every word carried weight.

“I gave you videos and digital footprints placing the entire Becker leadership, including Emilian, in locations where top-secret information was sold to foreign countries.”

Emory’s expression did not change, though his attention sharpened.

“I proved corporate espionage committed against multiple companies on their estate. I traced what they stole, what they copied, and which secrets they sold.”

Amber stepped closer.

“I also included a list of men and women, heirs from minor houses, who were taken hostage by the Beckers. Children used as leverage while ransom was extracted from their wealthy families.”

Her eyes turned colder.

“And those who were not returned were raised inside the Becker second and third houses as assets. Without names of their own. Without freedom. Without control over any part of their lives.”

The corridor had gone completely silent. Even the elevator seemed to pause in respect of the moment.

“They have done much more,” she said quietly. “Worse things.”

Then she looked directly at them.

“So explain to me how that is not enough.”

John shifted first, but it was Emory who finally spoke.

“Because evidence and justice are not always the same thing.

Amber’s jaw tightened.

He continued.

“What you delivered is enough to destroy them legally.”

A pause.

“But only if no one powerful intervenes first.”

Now the real problem stood between them.

1/3

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Not proof.

Not guilt.

Not law.

Power.

Emory Watson held Amber’s gaze for a moment longer, then looked between both of us as if reaching a decision.

“Come with me,” he said. “And trust me.”

The request landed badly.

Jason’s hand tightened around mine at once. His body shifted slightly in front of me, subtle but unmistakable. Protective. Defensive.

“Trust you?” Jason repeated, voice cool. “That is an expensive word to ask for in a hallway.”

Emory did not flinch.

“If I wanted to waste your time, I would have let you leave.”

“That is not an answer,” Jason said sharply.

John Stait exhaled under his breath, already regretting every second of the conversation.

Emory’s tone remained even. “There are things I cannot explain here.”

Jason took one step forward. Not aggressive, but close enough to make the point clear.

“Then explain them somewhere else. But understand this first.”

The corridor seemed to narrow around him.

“I will not gamble with Amber’s safety.”

Every word was precise. Controlled. Far more dangerous than shouting.

“And I do not want her any more involved than she already is.”

I felt the truth of that in the way he still held my hand. In the tension running through him. In the fact that, even now, his first instinct was not strategy. It was me.

Emory studied Jason for a second, then nodded once.

“Good,” he said. “I would trust you less if you felt otherwise.”

That only annoyed Jason more.

John stepped in before either man decided diplomacy was overrated.

“No one is asking Amber to walk into danger alone,” he said quickly. “But if the Beckers have protection at the level we suspect, then the two of you may be the only people they did not plan for.”

Silence followed.

I looked at Jason.

He was still unconvinced.

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Still ready to walk away with me and let the rest of the world solve its own corruption.

And somehow, that made me love him more.

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Safety

Amber POV

I looked at Emory Watson carefully.

He was controlled in the way only people used to carrying ugly truths ever were. No wasted movements. No unnecessary promises. No attempt to charm us into agreement. That, at least, I respected.

So I asked the only question that mattered.

“Can you guarantee our safety?”

My voice did not shake.

“Ours,” I clarified, “and our family’s.”

Jason went still beside me. John Stait looked away first.

Emory did not. He met my eyes directly and answered without hesitation.

“No.”

The word hit harder because it was honest.

“We cannot guarantee anything.”

A pause. Then, quieter-

“But we will do our absolute best to make sure nothing happens to you.”

Not comforting. Not polished. Real.

I valued that more than reassurance.

Emory glanced down the corridor once before continuing.

“The threat has escalated.”

Every instinct in me sharpened.

“What changed?” I asked.

He looked from me to Jason. Then back again.

“I do not believe the Becker family was ever truly in charge.”

The hallway seemed to narrow around us.

“They were visible,” he said. “Loud. Cruel. Ambitious.”

A beat.

“But not sophisticated enough to build something this large.”

I already knew where this was going. Still, hearing it spoken aloud felt different. Colder.

“I suspect the Vinny family is the one directing the entire operation.”

John Stait said nothing. Which was answer enough.

1/4

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“The Beckers were useful,” Emory continued. “Disposable muscle. Public faces. Convenient monsters.”

ackeys,” Jason said flatly.

Emory inclined his head once.

“Yes.”

A chill moved through me. Because if the Beckers had been the obvious enemy, then the real enemy had been standing in plain sight all along. Watching. Smiling. Waiting.

And now they knew we were looking back.

Jason’s gaze unfocused slightly, the way it always did when pieces were locking together faster than words could keep up.

Then he spoke, almost to himself.

“We need to find out how Mr. Vinny not only escaped conviction…”

His eyes lifted to Emory.

“But was also able to interrogate us at the station.”

The memory hit sharp and immediate. Martin Vinny seated like he belonged there. Acting with authority he should never have had. Asking questions as if we were the suspects.

Jason’s expression hardened.

“He was trying to frame us. That much is clear.”

No one argued.

For the first time since catching up to us, John Stait lost his composure entirely.

“Okay.”

The single word cracked through the corridor louder than it should have.

He looked at each of us in turn, patience gone.

“All of you, follow me to the base.”

Even Emory glanced at him.