A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 146

“His grandson.”

Sdence settled between us.

Jason leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as something clicked.

“They were there,” he murmured.

I looked at him.

“At every event.”

He pulled up the images from the room, cross-referencing dates and locations.

My college years.

The conferences.

“The Beckers attended all of them,” he said, his voice tightening. “Every single one.”

He zoomed into the background of one image.

Then another.

Then another.

“They weren’t just present…”

His jaw clenched.

“They were following a pattern.”

A chill ran through me.

Not random.

Not coincidence.

Deliberate.

I turned back to my screen, fingers already moving.

“If they were tracking me back then…”

I murmured.

“They needed a base.”

Jason’s gaze snapped to me.

I was already filtering assets.

Cutting through layers.

Removing legitimate holdings.

Leaving only what didn’t belong.

“Ghost properties,” I said.

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K

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He leaned in instantly.

solated one cluster.

“They’ve been moving funds through shell companies tied to these.”

Then I stopped.

Highlighted one location.

“This one.”

Jason’s voice dropped. “Why?”

I zoomed in.

“No activity. No tenants. No profit.”

I looked at him.

“That’s not an investment.”

His eyes darkened.

“That’s a holding space.

Silence fell again.

Heavy.

Focused.

Because now-

This was real.

This was close.

Jason’s hand came over mine-

Firm.

Grounding.

Then suddenly-

He pulled me toward him.

Hard.

Urgent.

And kissed me.

Not soft.

Not gentle.

Desperate.

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I felt it instantly.

s anger.

His fear.

His restraint-

Breaking at the edges.

His hand slid behind my neck, holding me in place, keeping me close as if letting go wasn’t an option anymore

And I didn’t pull away.

Because I understood.

This wasn’t just about the hunt.

This was about losing control.

About almost losing me-

Too many times.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.

His breathing uneven.

Controlled-

But barely.

“You don’t leave my side.

It wasn’t a command.

It was a need.

I smiled slightly, brushing my nose against his.

“Not planning to.”

His arm stayed around me.

Tight.

Unrelenting.

As if the distance of even a step-

Was too much.

Then-

He exhaled slowly.

And when he spoke again-

His voice was steady.

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Cold.

Pocused.

“Then that’s where we start.”

I leaned back just enough to look at the screen again.

At the location.

At the plan.

And I smiled.

Sharp.

Certain.

“Good,” I said.

“Because I just found the entrance.”

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Sanders

Jason didn’t let go of me, not even after we had a plan. His arm stayed firmly around my waist, grounding me, as if letting go was not an option anymore.

Then his tone shifted.

“Think,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him, noticing the sharp focus in his eyes.

“Was there ever a time you were alone with any of the Becker men?”

I frowned, my mind going back years, searching through memories I had long forgotten. For a moment, there was nothing… and then something surfaced.

“When I was a child,” I said slowly. “The four families used to get together so the kids could spend time together.”

Jason nodded slightly. “I remember those. I used to try to get out of them.”

I huffed softly. “That sounds about right.”

But then I continued, my brows furrowing as the memory became clearer.

“I remember you being there… but there was also a boy. Older than me. I can’t remember his face clearly, but he was always there… following you.”

Jason frowned. “I don’t remember him.”

That didn’t sit right with me. I was sure of it.

I reached for my phone. “Let’s ask someone who would.”

Jason didn’t stop me.

Grandfather answered almost immediately.

“Amber, darling.”

“Grandpa,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Do you remember the gatherings between the families when we were kids?”

He chuckled softly. “Of course I do.”

“There’s something I need to ask. Was there ever any intention behind those meetings?”

He laughed again, this time more knowingly. “Of course there was. Those gatherings were meant to observe compatibility between the children.”

I blinked. “Compatibility?”

“They were considering future alliances,” he clarified. “Marriage, in simpler terms.”

I exchanged a look with Jason.

“You were actually considered for a match,” Grandfather continued.

“With who?” I asked.

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“Rodney Becker. He was one of the strongest candidates for heir at the time.”

Jason went still beside me.

“But,

you.”

“Grandfather added, “the head of the Becker family mentioned that his youngest son was also interested in

My grip tightened slightly on the phone. “Who?”

“Emilian Becker.”

The name hit something deep in my memory.

“And if I remember correctly,” Grandfather continued, “Emilian used to follow Jason around quite a bit during those gatherings.”

I slowly turned to look at Jason.

“That’s him,” I said quietly. “The boy I remember.”

Jason frowned. “I don’t remember him.”

I wasn’t surprised. Jason had never been the type to look back.

But someone had clearly been watching.

“Thank you, Grandpa,” I said before ending the call.

Silence settled between us.

Jason’s arm tightened slightly around me.

“Emilian Becker,” he said, his voice calm but cold.

This wasn’t just a guess anymore.

It was a direction.

I looked back at the screen, at the property we had just identified.

A chill ran through me.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t recent.

This had been building for years.

And now, for the first time…

We were about to walk straight into it.

Jason didn’t waste a second.

The moment we had a name, he shifted completely-his posture straightening, his expression going cold and unreadable.

Cronos.

I watched it happen in real time.

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His fingers moved across the keyboard with precision, fast but controlled, like every command had already been calculated before he even touched the screen.

“I’m pulling everything on Emilian Becker,” he said.

I nodded, leaning closer as the data began to populate.

At first, it was exactly what we expected.

Family records.

Business affiliations.

Public appearances.

Nothing useful.

Nothing personal.

Nothing that connected him to me.

Jason’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s not in the suspect pool,” he muttered.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I replied.

“It doesn’t,” he agreed.

Then his approach changed.

Instead of searching for Emilian Becker-

He erased the name entirely.

“People don’t disappear,” Jason said quietly. “They change labels.”

He began digging deeper, cross-referencing maternal records, dormant identities, and educational databases.

Minutes passed.

Then-