A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 358

Wrong monster

Amber POV

I didn’t want the island.

That had been my first thought when I saw my name un the transfer documents.

Several hours later, after a shower, two meals, a medical examination, and enough sleep to make me feel marginally human again, my opinion hadn’t changed.

Unfortunately, the island was mine whether I wanted it or not.

I sat in one of the conference rooms at the River City military base, staring at a copy of the owner’s will.

Jason sat beside me.

Emory and Mr. Stait were across from us.

Three lawyers had already explained the same thing in increasingly complicated ways.

I still didn’t like the answer.

“So I can’t sell it.”

“No,” the lawyer answered.

“Rent it?”

“No.”

“Donate it?”

“No.”

I stared at him.

“What exactly can I do with it?”

“You can use it.”

I dropped my forehead against the table.

Jason patted my back.

“There, there.”

I lifted my head just enough to glare at him.

“Don’t.”

He was enjoying this far too much.

“I own an island where people were hunted for entertainment.”

“Technically-”

“If you say technically one more time, I’m divorcing you.”

His mouth snapped shut.

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Emory coughed suspiciously into his fist.

Stait didn’t even bother hiding his smile.

I sat upright again and looked at the document.

The clause was annoyingly specific.

The island could only pass through inheritance.

It couldn’t be sold.

It couldn’t be leased.

It couldn’t be rented.

And it couldn’t be donated.

Apparently, the old man had wanted to make absolutely certain that I couldn’t simply sign a document and make his final gift somebody else’s problem.

“I thought about giving it to the eight countries,” I admitted.

Mr. Stait nodded.

“As a joint military training ground?”

“Exactly. Eight countries participated in the competition. Let them use it together. Turn the place into something useful.”

The lawyer shook his head.

“You can permit people onto your property, Mrs. Sun. You can establish facilities there. You can even personally fund projects on the island. But ownership has to remain with you.”

“So I could allow the militaries to train there.”

“Potentially, yes.”

“But I can’t give them the island.”

“Correct.”

I sighed.

Pros.

There were definitely pros.

The island was enormous.

It had several command centers, underground infrastructure, natural caves, a landing strip, access to the ocean,

and enough land to establish training facilities for multiple countries.

It could become exactly what the old man had claimed he wanted at the end.

Something better.

Then there were the cons.

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People had died there.

People had been hunted there.

We didn’t even know how many bodies remained undiscovered.

And I had absolutely no desire to add management of horrifying murder island to my list of responsibilities.

Jason leaned closer.

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you pretend you’re trying to get rid of something while mentally developing a five-year investment plan for it.”

I stared at him.

“I hate that you know me.”

He smiled.

“You love that I know you.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

Before I could respond, Mr. Stait’s tablet started ringing.

He answered, listened for several seconds, and then turned the screen toward us.

“Speaking of the island…”

The news had exploded.

Not because I owned it.

That had lasted approximately six hours as the biggest story.

Then the names started coming out.

The families.

The island owner’s final confession had included financial records, private flight logs, photographs, payments, and years of documentation.

Families from multiple countries had paid for access to the island.

And not for vacations.

Not for hunting animals.

For people.

Some of the world’s wealthiest families had apparently treated human beings like prey.

The footage was everywhere.

Private planes arriving.

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Boats docking at night.

Men and wonen carrying weapons.

Payments disguised through shell companies.

The public reaction was immediate.

Companies connected to those families began losing value.

Board members resigned.

Politicians demanded investigations.

Governments froze accounts.

Several people whose names appeared in the documents immediately claimed they had merely vacationed on the island and knew nothing about the hunting grounds.

Nobody believed them.

I scrolled through the list.

Then stopped.

Went back.

Read it again. 1

“That’s strange.”

Jason looked over my shoulder.

“What?”

I searched the names again.

Nothing.

Emory apparently noticed the same thing because he took out his own tablet.

“Wait.”

Mr. Stait frowned.

“What?”

Emory looked at him.

“The Vincents aren’t here.”

Silence.

Jason immediately took the tablet from me.

He searched.

Vincent.

Nothing.

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He tried several subsidiaries.

Nothing.

Then aliases.

Nothing.

The Vinnys.

The Beckers.

Companies we already knew belonged to the Vincent network.

Nothing.

Jason’s expression changed.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” I whispered. “It really doesn’t.”

The Vincent family had connections everywhere.

Governments.

Military officials.

Banks.

Corporations.

Families.

They had bought people.

Kidnapped children.

Moved women between households as if they were property.

If there was one family I would have expected to find on a list of people who paid to hunt human beings…

It was them.

Mr. Stait picked up his phone.

“Maybe their records were removed.”

Emory shook his head.

“Why remove only them?”

“Maybe the owner was protecting them.”

“Then why blackmail Alexander?” Jason asked.

Nobody answered.

I looked through the list again.

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The Vincents weren’t there.

at once.

Not indirectly.

Not through any company we knew belonged to them.

Nothing.