A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 197

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Resolve

Amber POV

What followed was absolute chaos.

Not the loud kind at first. Not shouting or panic.

The kind of chaos born from too many truths colliding in the same room, each revelation splintering another illusion we had once believed was stable.

My grandfather arrived less than an hour later.

He entered Mr. Stait’s office with his usual composed authority, silver hair perfectly arranged, dark coat draped over one arm, expression carved into something unreadable. Yet I knew him too well not to notice the exhaustion beneath it.

And beside him-

To everyone’s surprise-

Was Iris.

Jason stood immediately.

“What is she doing here?” he demanded, protectiveness sharpening every syllable.

Iris did not flinch.

She stepped fully into the room, shoulders straight despite her age, silver-blonde hair tied neatly behind her head. She looked too calm for a child who had survived what she had. Too composed.

“She made the decision herself,” my grandfather said before anyone else could speak. “Mr. Stuart was informed.”

As if summoned by the words, the office door opened again.

Mr. Stuart stepped inside.

The powerful head of the Stuart family looked nothing like the ruthless businessman the media adored. He looked pale. Hollowed out by grief and hope in equal measure.

His gaze landed on Iris instantly.

For a moment, he simply stared at her as though afraid she would disappear if he blinked.

“Iris…”

His voice cracked around her name.

Iris looked at him carefully, uncertainty flickering briefly across her face before she straightened again, reminding herself why she had chosen to come.

The room descended into movement almost immediately.

Questions layered over one another.

Emory asked for dates.

Mr. Stait demanded names.

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Jason remained close to Iris without making it obvious, positioning himself between her and everyone else like

stinct alone had placed him there.

And through it all-

Iris answered.

Quietly. Precisely.

She remembered far more than the Beckers or the Vinnys had ever realized.

The new arrivals.

The children who vanished overnight.

The different houses they were moved between.

The way some children were trained and others were broken.

The way girls were valued differently depending on what alliances they could create.

But what shifted the entire room was one detail.

“The family I was supposed to marry,” Iris said softly, “was the Vincent family.”

Silence.

Emory straightened instantly.

Mr. Stait muttered a curse under his breath.

Even Mr. Sun’s expression darkened.

The Vincents.

One of the most powerful families in Country S.

A rival nation.

And suddenly the shape of the conspiracy changed again.

This was no longer simply about heirs disappearing.

This was infiltration.

Political. Financial. International.

And if heirs were being strategically positioned into foreign alliances against their will-

Then this had never only been about money.

Mr. Stuart sat down heavily, one hand pressed over his mouth.

“They were going to sell my granddaughter,” he whispered.

“No,” Iris corrected quietly.

Everyone looked at her.

“They already did.”

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The words shattered something in him.

Mr. Stuart looked physically ill after that. But Iris continued anyway, her voice frighteningly calm for someone recounting horrors most adults would never survive.

She spoke of the rooms.

Of children crying quietly at night because loud crying resulted in punishitrent.

Of girls being taught posture, languages, etiquette, diplomacy.

Of boys disappearing after showing aggression or independence.

Of punishments designed not to leave visible marks.

Of names being erased and replaced.

“You stop thinking about yourself after a while,” Iris admitted softly. “It’s easier if you don’t.”

Mr. Stuart abruptly stood.

“I need a moment.”

No one tried to stop him.

He left the room quickly, shoulders rigid, as though staying any longer would destroy him completely.

The door closed behind him. 1

Silence followed.

Iris lowered her gaze to her hands.

“I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“You didn’t,” Jason said immediately.

His voice was gentler than I had ever heard it.

“You told the truth.”

Iris looked at him then, and something quiet passed between them. Recognition. Shared understanding.

Not of identical suffering.

But of survival. 1

My grandfather suddenly cleared his throat.

The sound drew every eye in the room toward him.

He was looking at me.

Not as the head of the Asher family.

As my grandfather.

“Amber,” he said quietly.

I straightened unconsciously.

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“I owe you another apology.”

e room stilled.

“Grandfather-”

“No.”

The word was firm but not harsh.

He exhaled slowly, years of regret visible in the lines of his face.

“I have already apologized to you before,” he admitted. “More than once.”

A pause.

“But it has never stopped weighing on me.”

My chest tightened unexpectedly.

“When you were young,” he continued, “I made your suffering small.”

The honesty of it hurt more than denial ever could have.

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