A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 38

Jason was stressed.

Too stressed.

He didn’t say it. He didn’t complain. But it was there-under his skin, in the way his fingers curled too tightly around the wine glass, in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the silence he wore like armor..

And I couldn’t bear it.

My insides were restless. Loud. Tangled.

I was nervous.

Not about Victoria.

Not about investigations.

About this.

About exposing what I really felt.

I had spent so long protecting my thoughts, guarding my pride, speaking in strategy instead of sincerity. Vulnerability did not come naturally to me.

But watching him carry everything alone-

That was worse. 1

Before I could overthink it, I stood.

He had just taken a sip when I gently pulled the glass from his hand and finished the rest myself. 1

He raised a brow.

“I just needed a little courage,” I admitted.

Then I sat beside him on the small couch.

Close.

Very close.

Practically on top of him.

My hands trembled slightly as I cupped his face.

I intended the kiss to be brief.

Soft.

Reassuring.

Instead, the moment our lips met, something shifted.

Jason’s hands slid to my waist, firm and decisive. He deepened the kiss, grounding me, stealing my breath in the most deliberate way. The world outside-the accusations, the fabricated messages, the looming investigations-faded.

For a few minutes, it was just us.

When we finally separated, the air between us felt warmer.

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He was shaking.

Subtly.

He rested his forehead against mine.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I smiled faintly.

“For the kiss?”

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He exhaled softly.

“No. For this.”

His hand moved to my chest.

“For letting me see what’s here.”

My breath caught.

“I was nervous,” I confessed quietly. “Too nervous to say it out loud. ”

His eyes searched mine.

“I’m not used to exposing what I really think. What I really feel.”

My voice wavered slightly, and I hated that it did.

“I don’t like feeling… unguarded.”

His thumb brushed along my jaw. 1

“And yet you did it anyway,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Thank you for that,” he whispered.

Not dramatic.

Not grand.

Just sincere.

“For standing with me. For not taking this marriage as an opportunity for revenge or positioning. For seeing me.”

“Jason,” I said softly, forcing myself not to retreat into composure, “it was never about revenge. Or political standing.”

I swallowed.

“You made me curious. About what could have been.”

He listened like every word mattered.

“You are a remarkable father. You work from home to be closer to your children. You manage companies under your umbrella and still make time to help me when I need it.”

His grip on my waist tightened slightly.

“And you chose me,” I continued. “When I felt like an afterthought to everyone else.”

Silence wrapped around us. 1

“And you gave me the chance” whispered, “to be myself again.”

He closed his eyes briefly, pressing his forehead more firmly against mine.

“I don’t take that lightly,” he said. “Your honesty. Your courage.”

A faint smile curved his lips.

“You think you needed wine for that?”

I laughed softly. 1.

“I absolutely did.”

He kissed my forehead.

“I would choose you again,” he said quietly. “Every time.”

The tension finally left his shoulders.

Not because the storm had passed.

But because we were no longer facing it alone.

At some point, still wrapped around him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, I drifted.

The exhaustion of the day, the emotion, the relief-it all pulled me under.

I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep.

Jason did.

He shifted carefully, sliding one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back. 1

He carried me to our bedroom with the same quiet precision he used in everything else.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gently removed my shoes, setting them neatly aside.

For a moment, he just looked at me.

Then he brushed a strand of hair away from my face and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“I had never been jealous of my brother,” he whispered into the quiet room. “Not once.”

His thumb traced lightly along my cheek.

“Never… until I met you.”

And with that confession, barely audible in the dark-

He lay beside me.

Still holding me.

As if afraid to let go.

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