A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 373

Amber POV

The doctors were not happy about me flying to River City.

Jason was even less happy about it, which was impressive considering he was the one who ultimately arranged the flight, the medical clearance, the additional security, and enough monitoring equipment to make me feel as though we were transporting a critically endangered species instead of a six-months-pregnant woman.

But there was no possibility of me staying behind.

Rose and Iris had decided to speak publicly, and if they wanted me there, I would be there.

All of us flew to River City together. Mr. and Mrs. Sun came with us, and Grandpa was already there. Mr. Stait and Emory had traveled ahead to coordinate with military and police officials because this wasn't going to be presented as a family dispute or another scandal between wealthy families.

This was a criminal investigation.

The statement would be given from a government facility, with representatives from the military, police, and investigators standing together. Evidence had been reviewed carefully beforehand. Anything that could compromise active rescue operations was removed, and the identities of victims who hadn't agreed to be named would remain protected.

Rose and Iris had both been given the option to change their minds until the last possible second.

Neither did.

Iris had spoken publicly before, at least partially. When the truth about her being an heir had emerged, pieces of what happened to her had become public knowledge.

But only pieces.

The world knew she'd been mistreated.

They didn't know the darkest parts.

They were about to.

The press room was completely full.

Jason and I stayed offstage with Rose while Iris waited nearby. I was sitting because Jason had apparently informed everyone within a ten-mile radius that allowing me to stand unnecessarily was a criminal offense.

Mr. Stait walked onto the stage first.

The room immediately went quiet.

"This investigation did not begin yesterday," he said. "Nor did it begin with the recent statement made by the Becker family."

Behind him, the large screen changed.

Numbers appeared.

Rescue operations.

Recovered victims.

Countries.

Ages.

Ongoing investigations.

I watched the reporters react.

The numbers were difficult to look at even when you already knew them.

Mr. Stait explained that military and law-enforcement operations had uncovered a network used to move human beings between households and territories. Some victims had been sold. Others exchanged. Some were children whose identities or inheritance rights made them valuable to powerful families.

He discussed the women we'd found.

The rescues.

The testimonies.

The people recovered from properties connected through intermediaries.

He didn't disclose everything.

He didn't need to.

The numbers were enough.

The room had become completely silent by the time he finished the initial statement.

Then Mr. Stait looked toward the side of the stage.

"Numbers, however, have a problem."

He paused.

"They make it very easy to forget that every number represents a person."

He stepped away from the microphone.

"I'd like you to hear from one."

Iris walked onto the stage.

My throat tightened.

Jason reached for my hand.

Iris looked small behind the podium.

Not weak.

Just young.

Far too young to have a story that required a military press conference.

She adjusted the microphone.

"My name is Iris."

Cameras flashed.

She waited.

"I've already talked publicly about some of what happened to me. People know I lived with the Becker family. People know now that I was an heir."

She swallowed.

"What people don't know is what I was before anyone discovered that."

The room became still.

"Nothing."

My fingers tightened around Jason's.

"At least, that's what I was told."

Iris looked directly toward the cameras.

"I lived with the Beckers, but I wasn't treated like family. I wasn't even treated like someone who worked for them."

Her voice remained steady.

"I was a maid. A servant. I cleaned. I carried things. I followed instructions. I did what I was told because I knew what happened when I didn't."

One reporter lowered his camera.

"I didn't have a name that mattered. I didn't have status. I didn't have family coming to find me. I didn't have anyone I thought I could call."

She paused.

"And then they told me what was going to happen to me."

I already knew.

Hearing her say it still made me furious.

"They told me I was going to become a bride for the Vincent family."

The room erupted.

Questions immediately came from several directions.

Mr. Stait raised his hand.

"Let her finish."

Silence returned.

Iris continued.

"Nobody asked me if I wanted to marry anyone. Nobody cared. It wasn't presented as a choice. I was told what my future would be, and I understood that there was nothing I could do about it."

Her hands tightened around the podium.

"I had no money. No family that I knew about. No status. No protection. No way out."

Her voice cracked slightly.

"But I had it better than some."

That sentence hurt more than everything before it.

Alone.

The moment she stepped onto the stage, the room changed.

At first, there was confusion.

Then recognition.

Reporters started whispering.

Cameras turned.

Someone gasped.

Iris moved away from the podium.

Rose walked straight toward her.

For a moment, neither girl said anything.

Then Iris reached out.

Rose took her hand.

The flashes became almost blinding.

Iris looked toward the reporters.

"This was the baby."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Rose Becker—the child whose biological mother had just gone to the media claiming she'd been coerced into surrendering her—stood beside the girl who had cared for her when they were both trapped inside the Becker household.

Rose stepped toward the microphone.

Her hands were trembling.

Iris didn't let go of one of them.

"My mother says she wants me back."

The first few words were quiet.

Then Rose lifted her chin.

"But she never came to save me."

Nobody moved.

"Iris did."

I covered my mouth.

Jason's arm wrapped around me.

Rose looked at Iris.

"She was a kid too, but she took care of me."

Iris was crying now.

Rose turned back toward the cameras.

"So before anyone talks about whether my mother should get me back, I want them to know where I was."

She paused.

"And I want them to know who was actually there."

I looked around the press room.

No one was asking questions anymore.

They were listening.

The Becker matriarch had wanted the world to hear that her daughter had been taken from her.

Now the world was hearing from Rose herself.

And this was only the beginning.