A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 367

в вели:

“We’ve learned repeatedly that people can be bought, threatened or manipulated. I’m not bringing a stranger into the castle and giving them unlimited access to me, my medical information and my babies.”

“A qualified physician isn’t some random stranger,” Grandpa argued.

“Neither was the pilot who was supposed to fly our plane.”

Jason finally intervened.

“She’s right about that.”

Grandpa looked at him.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not. I want medical support nearby too.”

I stared at my husband.

He held up a hand.

“But bringing someone into the house full-time creates a security issue we would need to solve first.”

Exactly.

Mrs. Sun sat beside me.

“So what do you propose?”

That was better.

A discussion instead of everyone deciding what happened to me.

“Regular appointments. Monitoring equipment here. Emergency transportation ready if we need it. My doctor can check my results remotely, and I follow the bed-rest instructions.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“All of them?”

“Most.”

“Amber.”

“Fine. All.”

Grandpa still didn’t look satisfied.

“What happens if your condition changes suddenly?”

“We go to the hospital.”

“What if there isn’t time?”

That frightened me.

I hated that it did.

My hand moved instinctively over my stomach.

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I could feel one of the twins moving.

Asmall flutter beneath my palm.

Five months.

They were depending entirely on me.

I looked at Jason.

He had noticed the movement too.

His hand covered mine.

“We increase security around her appointments,” he said. “And we identify several doctors who can be called if necessary. Nobody gets permanent access to the castle unless we personally approve them.”

Grandpa considered it.

Mrs. Sun wasn’t happy.

Neither was I.

But at least it didn’t make me feel like we’d painted a target on my back.

“Temporary compromise,” Grandpa finally said.

“Temporary,” I agreed.

Mrs. Sun pointed at my laptop.

“And less work.”

I frowned.

“That wasn’t part of the compromise.”

“It is now.”

“No.”

“Amber.”

“Mrs. Sun.”

Jason laughed.

I glared at him.

He immediately pretended to be interested in his phone.

Then the phone actually vibrated.

His expression changed as he read the message.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing about Oscar yet.”

I relaxed slightly.

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“But?”

ne of my Cronos contacts is still tracing the Nevermore airport footage.”

Another investigation.

Another problem waiting for us.

I looked at the audit report beside me.

Marketing.

Accounting.

Logistics.

Somewhere between those three departments was the answer to what was happening inside Asher Corporation.

Somewhere in Nevermore was Oscar.

Somewhere else was Mr. White.

And somewhere inside my body, two babies apparently expected me to stop stressing about all of it.

I leaned back against the pillows.

Fine.

I could stay in bed.

I could follow the doctor’s orders.

I could even let other people do the dangerous parts.

But I wasn’t going to stop looking for answers.

Bed rest was not brain rest.

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Slowly

Amber POV

By the time I reached six months pregnant, I had discovered something important.

Bed rest did not make time move faster.

If anything, it made every day approximately seventy hours long.

The twins were getting bigger.

So was I.

My blood pressure had improved enough that the doctor was no longer threatening me with hospitalization every time she saw me, but I was still under strict orders to rest.

And after a month of investigating Asher Corporation, we finally knew how bad the problem had been.

Very bad.

The good news?

Not a single one of the low-quality products had reached another customer after we’d discovered the scheme.

The moment Emilia confirmed my suspicions, Pamela and her team had quietly started separating questionable inventory.

By the time the full audit exposed the scale of the operation, everything was already contained.

Low-quality materials were removed.

Finished products made with questionable materials were isolated.

Warehouses were checked.

Distribution was stopped wherever necessary.

Nothing moved without verification.

And then Grandpa returned to Asher Corporation.

Personally.

I’d called him the moment we realized the discrepancies extended beyond marketing.

His answer had been simple.

“I’m going back.”!

He’d walked into headquarters the next morning.

Apparently, retirement became optional when someone stole from his company.

Between Grandpa and Pamela, they cleaned house.

Aggressively.

Most of marketing?

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Gone.

Most of logistics?

Gone.

Half the employees in the affected storage areas?

Gone.

The main storage manager?

Gone.

Some were fired for participating directly.

Others had falsified reports, ignored discrepancies or approved things they had absolutely no business approving.

A few resigned the moment the audit reached their departments.

Which was practically a confession by itself.

The damage, unfortunately, couldn’t be fixed overnight.

Our luxury bag line had to be paused.

That hurt.

Orders had already been placed.

Customers were waiting.

But I refused to knowingly sell something beneath the standard carrying the Asher name.

So we stopped everything.

New materials were ordered.

Suppliers were verified again.

Production restarted under direct supervision.

Every finished product was inspected.

It took almost an entire month to replace the materials, manufacture the new bags, perform quality checks and begin shipping orders to buyers.

Expensive?

Absolutely.

Annoying?

Extremely.

Necessary?

Without question.

Then Malcolm Sito gave us an idea that I immediately loved.

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Malcolm was one of our production managers.

called during one of the quality-control meetings.

“We need a way to identify every bag that passes the new inspection.”

“We already have serial numbers,” Pamela said.

“Serial numbers can be copied.”

I looked at him through the screen.

“What are you suggesting?”

“An invisible quality mark.”

I sat straighter.

Jason, sitting beside me, immediately pushed another pillow behind my back.

I ignored him.

Malcolm continued.

“Something added only after final inspection. Invisible under normal conditions. Each mark connected to the individual bag identification in our internal system.”

I smiled.

“Do it.”

Pamela nodded.

“I like it.”

“So do I.”