A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 161

In charge

M

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Martin Vinny behaved as if the station belonged to him.

He stood near the center of the room with perfect posture, speaking to officers in a familiar tone, nodding at people as they passed, carrying himself like a man who expected to be obeyed.

It was deliberate.

A performance.

A reminder that power did not disappear just because someone stepped inside a police station.

Jason and I sat down at the table.

We mostly ignored him.

He made small comments as the officers prepared the report, offering observations no one had asked for, acting as though he were part of the investigation.

Neither of us acknowledged him.

When the recording began, we gave our statements.

But not the full truth.

A cleaner version.

A safer version.

A useful version.

I folded my hands on the table and spoke calmly.

“I was called to a location and trapped inside the building,” I said. “Once inside, I was forced to participate in a series of games and tasks.”

The officers wrote quickly.

I continued.

“There were threats made against multiple families. I was able to access a computer system and disable explosive devices placed on several estates, including the Vinny property.”

That made Martin look at me.

I did not return the glance.

Jason spoke next, his tone steady and controlled.

“I arrived later after losing contact with Amber. I entered the building to extract her.”

No mention of the suit.

No mention of the hidden rooms.

No mention of what he had done to Emilian.

“We did not know who was inside when we arrived,” I added. “We only discovered later that Emilian Becker and

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members of the Becker family were involved.’

That was true.

Just not all of it.

The detective looked between us.

“You are saying this was all orchestrated by Emilian Becker?”

Jason answered before I could.

“That is what we found.”

Again-

True.

But incomplete.

Martin Vinny leaned back in his chair, watching us carefully now.

Trying to find cracks.

Trying to measure what we were withholding.

He would find nothing.

Because Jason and I did not need to rehearse.

We understood each other too well for that.

We gave them enough truth to move the case forward.

Enough truth to protect ourselves.

And enough truth to remind everyone in that room-

We were not the ones on trial.

Martin Vinny had remained quiet through most of our statement, but I could feel his attention sharpening with every word.

He was not listening for facts.

He was listening for weakness.

For something he could challenge.

For a way to shift the room.

Then he looked directly at me.

“You are telling me,” he said slowly, “telling all of us, that you disabled bombs in multiple locations using only a computer?” 1

He let out a short breath that was almost a laugh.

“And you expect us to believe that?”

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The room went still.

Ben the officers stopped writing.

Martin leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on me.

“You want us to believe that a businesswoman, while being held captive, somehow managed to disable explosive. devices, hack databases, and extract information?”

He shook his head.

“All while trapped inside a room?”

There it was.

Not doubt.

Dismissal.

The old habit of men like him.

If a woman was competent, then she must be lying.

If she was successful, someone else must have done the work.

I did not answer immediately.

I let the silence stretch.

Let everyone in the room feel what he had just said.

Then I smiled.

Small.

Polite.

Sharp.

“Yes,” I said calmly.

Another pause. 1

“That is exactly what I am telling you.”

A flicker crossed his face.

He had expected defensiveness.

Excuses.

Anger.

Instead, I gave him certainty.

I leaned back slightly in my chair.

“You seem to think being a businesswoman excludes intelligence,” I continued. “It does not.”

His jaw tightened. 1

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“Managing companies, pegotiating acquisitions, building systems, reading people, solving problems under

ressure-those are skills, Mr. Vinny.”

I tilted my head.

“I simply applied them faster than your side expected.”

One of the officers coughed into his hand, hiding what looked suspiciously like amusement.

Martin’s expression hardened.

“That is not proof.”

“No,” I agreed. “The proof is that the estates are still standing.'”

Silence.

Heavy.

Clean.

Jason, beside me, said nothing.

He did not need to.

But I felt the quiet approval in the way his hand brushed mine beneath the table.

I kept my eyes on Martin.

“You should be less concerned with what I am capable of,” I said softly.

“And more concerned with why your property needed saving in the first place.”

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keep us here

he silence after my answer was satisfying.

Brief.

But satisfying.

Martin Vinny’s expression had hardened, though he was careful not to let it slip too far. Men like him hated being challenged in public, especially when they believed they held the room.

Before he could speak again, Jason leaned forward.

His tone was calm.

Too calm.

The kind of calm that usually meant someone was about to be cut apart politely.

“Mr. Vinny,” Jason said, “perhaps a better question would be this.”

Martin turned toward him.

Jason’s gaze did not waver.

“Why would the Becker family target your estate if you were supposed to be allies?”

The room shifted instantly.

That was the real question.

Not what I had done.

Why they had needed saving at all.

Martin’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second.

Small.

But visible.

Jason continued before he could answer.

“And as for Amber’s abilities…”

He glanced at me briefly, then back at Martin.

“She has a master’s degree in computer science.”

Silence followed.

One of the officers looked up sharply.

Another stopped writing for a second.

Because now the room had context.

Not a miracle.

Not an impossible story.

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A qualified woman using skills she had earned.

Jason leaned back again, voice still even.

“So yes,” he said. “I believe she can disable bombs, breach systems, and extract information while under

pressure.

A beat passed. 1

“The real mystery is why you seem so invested in pretending she cannot.”

Martin’s face became unreadable.

That usually meant he was angry.

Good.

I folded my hands calmly on the table.

Jason had not raised his voice.

He had not defended me emotionally.

He had done something better.

He had reframed the room.

Now everyone was looking at Martin.

Exactly where they should be looking.

The room stayed quiet after Jason’s last words.

No one rushed to answer.

No one moved to defend Martin Vinny.

For the first time since we arrived, the weight in the room had shifted fully away from us.

Exactly where it belonged.

Jason and I stood at the same time.

The movement was so natural it looked rehearsed, though it wasn’t.

We had simply reached the same conclusion together.

We were done here.

I turned to face the officers. 1

My posture was straight, my voice calm, measured, impossible to misread.

“Gentlemen, if that will be all…”

I let the words settle for a moment.

“I am really tired.”

A small pause.

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“It has been a long, exhausting, and quite frankly deeply traumatic day.”

No one interrupted.

“I have shared all the information I had.”

I glanced briefly at the files on the table, then back at them.

“If you require anything further, you may contact my legal team tomorrow.”

One of the detectives straightened immediately.

Another looked uncomfortable, as if only now remembering that I had been kidnapped, trapped, threatened, and nearly killed.

Good.

Let them remember.

I offered a polite smile that carried no warmth.

“But tonight,” I said softly, “I am leaving.”

Jason stepped beside me, close enough that I could feel the steady heat of him at my side.

Solid.

Certain.

I was about to turn toward the door when Martin Vinny spoke.

“I am not done with you.”

The room went still again.

I slowly looked back at him.

But Jason moved first.

He turned toward Martin, and the coldness in his eyes changed the air in the room more effectively than any

raised voice could have.

“I believe, Martin,” Jason said evenly, “that you have no grounds to keep us here.”

A pause.

“But do not worry.”

His expression did not change.

“I am sure your companies will continue to grow while you sit here trying to play good cop, bad cop with the victims of this whole mess.’

The silence sharpened.

Jason took one step closer.

Not threatening.

Worse.

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Certain.

mess,” he continued, “that you helped create in the first place.”

Martin’s face hardened instantly.

For the first time that night, he looked less like a man in control and more like someone who had been seen too clearly.

No one in the room interrupted.

No one defended him.

No one asked us to stay.

I let myself smile.

Small.

Satisfied.

Then I turned toward the door.

Jason’s hand found the small of my back.

And together-

We walked out.

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Jason’s hand remained at the small of my back as we left the station together.

The air outside felt colder.

Cleaner.

After everything inside, even the night felt easier to breathe.

We had barely stepped onto the front steps when a man pushed away from a nearby vehicle and started walking toward us.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Military posture.

The kind of presence that did not need to announce itself.

Jason’s expression shifted slightly.

Recognition.

“Scott.”

The man reached us and clapped Jason on the shoulder with the easy familiarity of someone who had known him for years.

Then Jason turned toward me.

“Amber, this is Scott Higgins.”

I extended my hand.

He took it firmly, offering a respectful nod.

“It is good to finally meet you,” Scott said. “I have heard a lot.”

“Hopefully not all of it,” I replied.

A brief smile crossed his face.

Then it faded.

He became all business.

“We were ready to move in much earlier,” Scott said. “The teams were in position and waiting for Jason’s signal.”

He glanced at Jason.

“You gave the go-ahead two minutes before we breached.”

Jason’s jaw tightened slightly.

He already knew there was more coming.

Scott nodded once.

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“We had to hold position before that.”

Why?” I asked.

His expression hardened.

“Because Mr. Vinny arrived at the site.”

Silence.

I exchanged a glance with Jason.

Scott continued.

“He was not alone. Another man arrived with him.”

“Who?” Jason asked.

Scott shook his head.

“We could not identify him.”

The words settled heavily between us.

Unknown.

Unidentified.

At a scene rigged with bombs, kidnappings, and hidden rooms.

That was not coincidence.

“That delayed the operation,” Scott said. “We could not risk moving blind without knowing whether they were involved, armed, or additional hostiles.” 1

My mind was already moving.

Martin Vinny had gone to the site before appearing at the station.

With someone else.

Someone hidden.

Meaning the night was not over.

Not really.

Jason’s hand pressed slightly more firmly against my back.

Grounding.

Protective.