A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 189

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for your own protection

Amber POV

“Tell me where you are,” Mr. Sun said at last, his voice steady but stripped of its earlier ease.

“And I will meet you there, son. But I cannot do this on the phone.”

Jason did not hesitate.

“I’m at the military base,” he replied, the dryness in his tone cutting through the room.

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Then-

“I’ll see you there, son. I’m leaving right now.”

Another pause, softer this time, heavier.

“And Jason… just know this.”

The entire room seemed to still around us.

“Everything that was hidden from you… was done for your own protection.”

The line went dead.

Silence followed.

Not the quiet of uncertainty.

The quiet of something approaching.

Jason did not move immediately. The phone remained in his hand, the screen dimming slowly as if even it understood the weight of what had just been set in motion.

I stepped closer again, my hand finding his arm.

He exhaled slowly.

Not relief.

Preparation.

Across the room, Emory exchanged a glance with Mr. Stait. Neither spoke, but both understood the same thing.

Whatever answers Jason had been denied for years were now on their way to meet him.

Jason stood up abruptly.

The chair scraped back with a sharp, jarring sound that broke the fragile stillness in the room.

“I…” 1

His voice faltered. Just for a second.

“I need some air.”

He did not wait for a response.

1/4

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He was already moving toward the door, toward anything that was not this room, not these walls, not the weight of everything that had just been uncovered.

I followed him immediately.

No hesitation. No permission asked.

The hallway outside felt colder, quieter, almost too clean compared to what we had just left behind.

Jason stopped a few steps away from the door, one hand braced against the wall, head lowered.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Just breathed.

Deep. Controlled. Like he was forcing his body to keep up with everything his mind had already started unrayeling.

I stepped closer, slower this time.

Careful.

“Jason…”

He shook his head once. Not in refusal. Just… grounding himself.

“I was five,” he said quietly. “Five, and I thought I had just been sent away.’

His hand tightened against the wall.

“I thought he chose that.”

The anger was there now. Not explosive. Not loud.

Sharp. Focused. 1

Jason let out a slow breath, but it didn’t steady him this time.

It just made space for the thought that had finally taken shape.

He turned to me, his expression tight, controlled-but underneath it, something was unraveling,

“The entire relationship I have with my father…” he said quietly, “is based on the idea that he sent me away.

The words hung between us.

Heavy.

Rewritten in real time.

“I hated him for it,” Jason continued, his voice low, almost distant. “I thought he chose his new family. That he paid someone to take me off his hands.”

His jaw tightened.

“That he didn’t want me.”

I didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t soften it.

2/4

He needed to say it exactly as it was.

But if that’s not what happened…”

He looked away briefly, like even considering the possibility felt unfamiliar.

“If I was taken…”

The silence stretched.

“Then everything I built around that… is wrong.

Not just anger.

Not just distance.

Years of understanding.

Of decisions.

Of who his father was to him.

Jason let out a short, humorless breath.

“I don’t even know if I should be angrier… or less.’

I stepped closer, taking his hand again, grounding him in something real.

“You don’t have to decide that right now,” I said softly.

He looked at me again.

Still tense. Still thinking. Still processing.

“But you will find out the truth,” I continued.

“And then you decide what to do with it.”

Jason held my gaze for a moment longer.

Then he nodded once.

Directed somewhere it had never fully been before.

I reached for him again, this time resting my hand against his back.

He did not pull away.

“If this is connected…” he continued, voice low, “if this was never just family-”

He exhaled sharply.

“Then it wasn’t neglect.”

A beat.

“It was something else.”

Something planned.

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3/4

Something hidden.

Something that had just reached into the present and demanded to be understood.

I moved closer, resting my forehead lightly against his shoulder.

“Then we find out,” I said softly.

Jason turned slightly, just enough to look at ine.

His eyes were still storming.

But they were steady.

“Yes,” he said.

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