A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 372

Not because of the fortune

Amber POV

For once, my phone ringing brought good news.

I was in the living room, comfortably trapped beneath a blanket with my feet elevated, when Pamela’s name appeared on the screen. Jasmine was already connected when I answered, and the expression on both their faces immediately told me they’d found something.

“Please tell me one of you is calling because you’ve finally found my merchandise.”

Jasmine grinned. “We found your merchandise.”

I sat up so quickly that Jason, who was working a few feet away, immediately looked over.

“Where?”

Pamela actually laughed. “You’re going to hate this.”

That wasn’t encouraging.

“Where, Pamela?”

“Inside one of your own warehouses.”

I frowned. “You already checked the Asher Corporation warehouses.”

“Not Asher Corporation.”

I stared at her.

Then it clicked.

“No.”

Jasmine’s smile widened. “Yes.”

“Asher-Phoenix?”

“They’ve been storing everything inside the Asher-Phoenix building.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t say anything.

Then I started laughing.

Not because it was particularly funny, but because the sheer audacity was almost impressive.

The Asher-Phoenix building was one of my properties, separate enough from Asher Corporation’s primary storage facilities that it hadn’t appeared on the original list Pamela gave Jasmine, Noah, and Daniel. There were commercial storage areas inside the building that could be rented independently.

And apparently, someone had decided the safest place to hide stolen Asher merchandise was inside a building that also belonged to me.

“They hid my property inside my property?”

“Basically,” Pamela said.

“That’s either brilliant or incredibly stupid.” little of both.”

Jasmine sent me the information they’d uncovered. One of the warehouse spaces inside Asher-Phoenix had been rented months earlier. On paper, there was nothing connecting the rental to Asher Corporation.

That was intentional.

The lease was under the name of the wife of one of the marketing employees involved in the scheme.

There it was.

The missing connection.

Marketing had arranged the substitutions. Logistics helped move the original merchandise. Storage employees manipulated inventory records. The premium products and materials were quietly transported to Asher-Phoenix, where they disappeared into a privately rented warehouse under a name that wouldn’t immediately attract attention.

They hadn’t needed to find an outside buyer immediately.

They’d simply been accumulating everything.

“How much is there?” I asked.

Pamela’s expression became serious. “A lot.”

“Define a lot.”

“Enough that we’re still counting.”

That wiped away my amusement.

The warehouse contained finished luxury bags, premium leather, specialized hardware, fabrics, packaging materials, and other inventory that had disappeared over time. Some of it had already been boxed and organized in quantities that suggested whoever was behind the operation eventually intended to move it somewhere else.

Fortunately, the audit had frightened them before they could.

“Has anyone touched anything?” I asked.

“Only to secure the site,” Pamela answered. “Everything is being documented before it’s moved. Legal is involved, security is there, and we’ve preserved the rental records.”

“Good.”

“And before you ask, no, you’re not coming.”

I frowned.

“I wasn’t going to.”

Jason laughed from across the room.

I glared at him.

Jasmine noticed.

“You were absolutely going to.”

am perfectly capable of following medical instructions.”

Three people laughed.

I hung up on them.

The recovery took most of the day.

By evening, Pamela sent me the preliminary inventory.

Most of what we’d been looking for was there.

Not everything, unfortunately. Some merchandise had almost certainly been moved or sold before we’d uncovered the operation, and the investigation into that portion would continue. But we’d recovered enough premium, materials and finished products to dramatically reduce the financial loss.

More importantly, we finally understood the scheme.

After months of suspicions, Emilia working undercover, Jasper quietly protecting her, the audit, the firings, the warehouse surveillance, and an attempted public scam involving one of the defective bags, we finally had the physical evidence.

I leaned back against the sofa and closed my eyes.

“Done.”

Jason looked over.

“Done?”

“Mostly.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s close enough for today.”

And for once, I meant it.

There would still be prosecutions. Lawsuits. Internal restructuring. More audits. We’d have to trace whatever merchandise had already left the warehouse and determine exactly how much money had been stolen.

But the immediate threat to Asher Corporation was contained.

The low-quality bags had never reached legitimate customers after we discovered the problem. Production had restarted with proper materials. Malcolm Sito’s invisible quality verification system was working. The stolen merchandise had been recovered.

One disaster could finally be closed.

Which meant Grandpa could retire again.

“I am not retiring.”

Those were the first words out of his mouth when I called him.

I smiled. “Yes, you are.”

“Amber-”

You came back because I needed you.”

“And apparently you still do.”

“I always need you. That’s completely different from needing you to work.”

He went silent.

I knew I’d won.

“So do you.”

“Apparently my ancestors were the biggest family in Sum. Maybe greed is hereditary.”

That got a small laugh from him.

Then his expression became serious again.

“If the St. Johns trust disappeared tomorrow, I’d still take the test.”

I reached for his hand.

That was what I wanted to hear.

Because this wasn’t about a fifty-year trust or the massive fortune sitting inside it waiting for a surviving relative.

It was about Connor St. Johns.

It was about Jason’s mother.

was about Mr. White.

And it was about a little boy who had spent years believing his own father had accepted money to give him away.

“I need to know,” Jason said quietly. “That’s all.”

I intertwined my fingers with his.

“Then find out.”

He looked down at our hands.

“If Connor isn’t my father, at least we eliminate one possibility.”

“And if he is?”

Jason was quiet for a moment.

“Then maybe some things finally make sense.”

I understood.

Perhaps Mr. White had known from the beginning that Jason wasn’t biologically his. Perhaps that was why he’d been able to surrender him so easily when the Vincents came asking.

It wouldn’t excuse him.

Nothing could.

But answers didn’t always exist to forgive people.

Sometimes they simply existed to let you understand what happened.

Jason placed his hand over my stomach when one of the twins moved beneath my shirt.

“I don’t need another family,” he said.

I looked at him.

“I have one.”

His thumb moved gently over my stomach.

“You. The children. My grandparents. That’s enough.”

“But you still deserve to know where you came from.”

He nodded.

“Exactly.”

And just like that, Jason made the decision.

He would submit his DNA to the St. Johns trust.

Not because of the fortune.

Not because of the properties.

Not because discovering he was a St. Johns could give him another powerful name. was doing it for the simplest reason possible.

He wanted the truth.

For once, I hoped that was exactly what we were going to get.