Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 240

Chapter 240 Walking Into The VIP Party

The rifle barrel rested inches from my sternum. The guard kept his finger tense on the trigger. The red light from the scanner bathed my face in a harsh glare.

Tristan stood on the other side of the iron gate. He did not shout. He did not draw his weapon. He shifted his stance. The lethal intent rolled off his shoulders in waves.

“Hands up, the guard ordered.

I stared at the black metal of the rifle. The panic tried to claw up my throat. I swallowed it. I commanded a multi-billion dollar corporation. I negotiated with cartels. I refused to die in the dirt outside a party.

My mind worked the problem. Luka warned us. The upgraded machine hunted synthetic materials. The forged contact lens caused the error.

I kept my hands visible. I moved my right hand toward my face.

“Stop!” the guard barked.

“I am removing a contact lens,” I stated. My voice held zero fear. I projected pure ice. “Your cheap machine caught a piece of plastic. Lower the weapon before my husband ruins your career.”

The guard hesitated. I did not wait for permission. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I extracted the thin, clear lens from my right eye. I flicked it onto the

wet pavement.

I stepped closer to the machine. I pressed my face to the visor. My real eye possessed no synthetic mask. Tristan paid a massive blood debt to insert my actual biometric data into the guest registry. The contact lens was an unnecessary precaution. It almost killed me.

The blue laser swept across my eye.

The heavy iron gates clicked. They swung open.

I stepped through the threshold. I did not look back at the guard. I stopped next to Tristan.

“You have ten seconds to clear my sight,” Tristan told the guard. His tone held the promise of a body bag.

The guard lowered the rifle. He stepped back into the shadows.

We walked up the sweeping stone stairs. We left the cold night behind. We entered the chateau.

The ballroom stretched the length of a football field. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings. Gold trim lined the dark wood paneled

walls. A string quartet played in the corner. The music masked the hushed conversations of the global elite.

into a dark alcove between two stone pillars.

I watched the shadows. Tristan delivered a brutal, silent strike to the man’s throat. The guard collapsed. Tristan caught his dead weight. He dragged the unconscious body behind a thick velvet curtain. He emerged a second later, adjusting his cuffs. The threat vanished. The security blind spot expanded.

I turned my attention back to the room. I needed intel. I needed to know where the man holding Sterling’s ledger conducted his business.

I spotted a cluster of older men standing near a roaring fireplace. They wore expensive tailored suits. One man wore a lapel pin featuring the crest of a notorious Swiss offshore bank. The bank known for hiding dark money. The men held the keys to this underground world.

I walked toward them. I projected absolute authority.

The men stopped talking. They assessed my black silk gown. They noted the high slit exposing my thigh. They looked at my black lace mask.

“Gentlemen,’ I said. I offered a sharp, polite nod.

“Good evening, the man with the lapel pin replied. He swirled a glass of scotch. ‘We were discussing the recent market turbulence in the American sector.

The Johnston Group collapse.”

I kept my expression blank. My heart hammered against my ribs. They discussed my ruin às casual party talk.