A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 362

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8.8

Questionable

Amber POV

By the time we arrived at the castle, I had already decided that bed rest was a ridiculous concept.

I wasn’t even sick.

My blood pressure was high.

The babies were fine.

I was fine.

I just needed to-

“Don’t.”

I turned toward Jason.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about work.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve been married to you long enough.”

He parked and came around to my side before I could open the door myself.

I stared at the hand he offered me.

“I can walk.”

“The doctor said bed rest.”

“She didn’t say you had to carry me from the car.”

“I can.”

“Try it and you’ll need another medical examination.”

Jason grinned.

At least he let me walk.

We had barely made it through the castle doors when I realized we had a problem.

A woman was sitting in the main sitting room with Mrs. Sun.

She looked elegant.

Composed.

Absolutely furious.

Franklin was sitting across from her.

He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

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I stopped.

Jason followed my gaze.

“Oh.”

Franklin saw us.

The relief on his face was immediate.

“Mr. Sun! Mrs. Sun!”

His mother slowly turned toward us.

“Perfect.”

Franklin’s relief vanished.

I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Mrs. Sun calmly poured more tea.

“Amber, Jason, this is Mrs. Owen.”

“We’ve met,” Jason said.

Mrs. Owen stood. 1

“Then perhaps you can tell me whether my son has completely lost his mind.”

Franklin groaned.

“Mom.”

“Quiet.”

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He became quiet.

Immediately.

I was impressed.

Mrs. Owen looked at us.

“My son disappeared for days.”

Jason glanced at Franklin.

Franklin looked away.

“He returned home telling me that he’d participated in an international military competition on a private island, that people started killing each other, that there was a hurricane, and that he was evacuated by helicopter.”

She paused.

“I thought he was lying.”

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“Understandable,” I admitted.

Pranklin looked betrayed.

“Amber!”

“What? It sounds insane.”

“It happened!”

“I know. I was there.”

Mrs. Owen closed her eyes.

“That’s the problem.”

Apparently, one of her friends had called that morning after recognizing Franklin in footage from the evacuation

She had shown Mrs. Owen the news.

Then photographs.

Then an interview where one of Sum’s officials confirmed that an eighteen-year-old Owen heir had participated.

And suddenly Franklin’s completely unbelievable excuse had become horrifyingly real.

Mrs. Owen pointed at her son.

“He waited until the exact day he turned eighteen.”

Mrs. Sun calmly sipped her tea.

“So I’ve heard.”

“He left without telling me.”

Another sip.

“Also heard that.”

“He joined a military competition!”

“Technically, he represented Sum.”

Mrs. Owen stared at her. 1

Mrs. Sun lowered her cup.

“Sorry. Not helping.” 1

“No.”

Franklin tried again.

“Mom, I knew what I was doing.”

“You turned eighteen that morning!”

“I was legally an adult.”

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“Do not use legal technicalities with me.”

Noyered my mouth.

Jason suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

Mrs. Owen turned toward us.

“Was he really there?”

There was no point softening it.

“Yes.”

Her face fell.

“And everything he said happened?”

Jason nodded.

“Unfortunately.”

“The shootings?”

“Yes.”

“The explosions?”

“Yes.”

“The hurricane?”

I sighed.

“Category five.”

She looked at Franklin.

For a moment, her anger disappeared.

She crossed the room and hugged him.

Franklin froze.

Then slowly hugged her back.

“You stupid child.”

“I’m okay.”

“You could have died.”

“I know.”

She pulled away and slapped his shoulder.

“Ow!”

“That was for leaving without telling me.”

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Mrs. Sun immediately intervened.

ea.”

Mrs. Owen stared at her. `

Mrs. Sun pushed a cup toward her.

“Drink before you kill the boy. At least he wasn’t alone. Jason and Amber were there.”

I stared at her.

“Considering what happened, I’m not sure we’re the comforting part of that sentence.”

Jason nodded.

“Statistically, being near us has become questionable.”

Mrs. Sun ignored us.

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Bed rest

Amber POV

Unfortunately, Franklin’s problems couldn’t distract Jason from mine.

The moment Mrs. Owen left with her very alive-and probably very grounded-eighteen-year-old son, Jason pointed upstairs.

“Bed.”

I glared at him.

Mrs. Sun looked at me.

“Bed.”

Traitor.

So that was how I officially went on bed rest.

I hated it.

Within an hour, I had transformed our bedroom into an office.

Laptop.

Tablet.

Two phones.

Documents.

Water.

Snacks.

And enough pillows surrounding me that Jason couldn’t claim I wasn’t following the doctor’s orders.

Then I contacted my team.

“I’m officially on bed rest.”

There was a suspiciously long silence.

Pamela finally spoke.

“Actual bed rest?”

“Doctor ordered.”

Someone laughed.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Who was that?”

Nobody answered.

“I heard you.”

1/8

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Pamela cleared her throat.

We’ll take care of everything.”

“I can still work.”

“Of course.”

Her tone was far too agreeable.

“Pamela.”

“We’ll send updates.”

I ended the call and immediately opened the reports from Asher Corporation.

Jason walked into the bedroom carrying a tray.

“You are supposed to be resting.”

“I am.”

“You’re working.”

“While lying down.”

“That isn’t how bed rest works.”

I ignored him.

For months, something inside Asher Corporation’s River City operations had bothered me.

Marketing expenses had increased.

Supplier invoices were higher.

Yet the quality of materials used in several campaigns had actually decreased.

Nothing was large enough to trigger an obvious alarm.

Individually, the discrepancies looked insignificant. 1

Together, they formed a pattern.

That was why I had assigned Emilia Goodrich to the marketing department.

Officially, Emilia was an intern.

Young.

Inexperienced.

Harmless.1

Exactly the type of person executives ignored.

Unofficially, she was there because I suspected someone was stealing from my company.

And Jason knew perfectly well about it.

2/8

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He had been sitting beside me when I’d asked Jasper Wilson, one of my aides, to keep an eye on Emilia.

Jasper had two jobs.

Make absolutely certain nobody discovered what Emilia was really doing.

And keep her safe.

I wasn’t sending a young woman into the middle of a potentially organized theft operation without someone watching her back.

My secure phone vibrated.

I immediately recognized Emilia’s identification code.

Three words appeared.

You were right.

I sat straighter.

Jason placed the tray down.

“Emilia?”

“Yes.”

He came to sit beside me.

“What did she find?”

L’opened the encrypted files.

Photographs.

Invoices.

Purchase orders.

Delivery receipts.

Internal messages.

Then a spreadsheet Emilia had apparently been building for weeks.

Jason leaned closer.

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

One of our marketing leads had created an entire internal operation.

Asher Corporation was paying premium prices for premium materials.

High-quality promotional displays.

Luxury packaging.

Corporate merchandise.

3/8

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Event equipment.

Printed advertising materials.

But those weren’t the products actually arriving.

Emilia had photographed the deliveries herself.

Cheap replacements.

Low-quality materials.

Some weren’t worth even a third of what the company had supposedly paid.

But the invoices still showed the premium products.

Jason scrolled through the documents.

“They’re pocketing the difference.”

“Looks like it.”

“And they’ve been doing it for a while.”

“At least eighteen months from what Emilia found.”

Jason frowned.

“Jasper?”

“Already checking.”

Almost on cue, another message arrived.

This one was from Jasper. 1

Emilia remains uncompromised. No indication anyone suspects why she was assigned there. I’m continuing surveillance.

I relaxed slightly.

Jason noticed.

“Good.”

“Very.”

Finding the theft mattered.

Keeping Emilia safe mattered more.

I had asked her to investigate because I suspected something was happening.

That made her my responsibility.

I typed back.

Do not let her confront anyone. Continue documenting. If you think she’s been discovered, pull her immediately.

Jasper responded within seconds.

4/8

Understood.

Jason continued looking through Emilia’s files.

“This isn’t just the marketing lead.”

“I know.” 1

Someone had approved the suppliers.

Someone had processed the invoices.

Someone had accepted the deliveries.

Someone had falsified the quality-control records.

And somehow, all that money had moved without our normal controls stopping it.

The marketing lead was simply the first person Emilia had managed to identify.

I picked up my phone and called Pamela.

She answered immediately.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”