A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 394

Safe

Amber POV

+15 PS

By the time we reached the hospital, the emergency entrance was already surrounded by security. Military vehicles occupied part of the drive, officers controlled every entrance, and a trauma team waited outside with two stretchers. Daniel had called ahead, so everyone knew Jason was the priority, with Jasmine following behind him.

We arrived only minutes before the rescue vehicles.

I was out of car almost as soon as it stopped.

For more than a week, I had lived with one goal: find Jason.

Everything had been about that. Every map, every interrogation, every phone call, every tunnel, every scrap of evidence. I had refused to think beyond finding him because the possibilities beyond that point had been unbearable.

Then the rescue vehicle arrived, and for the first time I understood that finding him had never been the finish line

The doors opened.

Emory climbed out first.

Then I saw my husband.

I stopped.

I’d imagined Jason walking out of those caves. I’d imagined him exhausted and furious, maybe leaning on Marcus while complaining that we’d taken too long. I’d even imagined him injured.

I hadn’t imagined him looking so terribly still.

His face was pale beneath dirt and dried blood. Bruises darkened his jaw and temple, and another mark disappeared beneath his hair. An oxygen mask covered part of his face. His clothes had been cut open where the medics had treated him, an IV line was secured in his arm, and there were injuries everywhere I looked.

“Jason.”

His name came out broken.

The stretcher moved past me.

For one terrible second, my body refused to follow.

Mrs. Sun made a sound beside me, and that broke whatever had frozen inside me.

I moved.

“Jason.”

I reached him as they crossed the doors.

Emory stayed beside the stretcher. “He’s breathing on his own. Pressure is low but improving. We’ve started fluids.”

“Why isn’t he awake?”

“We don’t know yet.”

+15 B

I hated that answer.

Not because Emory didn’t know,

Because I had spent more firan a week believing that if we could only find Jason, I could fix everything else.

Now he was right in front of me, and I couldn’t eveti make him open his eyes.

They rushed him through the trauma doors. Someone stopped Mrs. 3un and explained that only one family member could go farther.

She pointed at me immediately.

“Her.”

I followed Jason.

The room became a blur of people and instructions. Doctors cut away what remained of his shirt, examined the bruising across his ribs and abdomen, checked his pupils, drew blood and ordered scans. They found needle marks on his arms. Emory explained that Jason had apparently been drugged repeatedly during captivity.

I stared at those marks.

Someone had held him down long enough to put needles into him.

Someone had decided when he could wake and when he couldn’t.

My nails dug into my palm.

“What did they give him?”

“We’re running toxicology,” one of the doctors answered.

“Can it hurt him?”

N4

“That depends on what was administered and in what doses.”

Another answer that wasn’t an answer.

I wanted names.

I wanted quantities.

I wanted someone to tell me exactly what had been done to my husband so I could put it into a neat column beside the name of the person responsible.

That was what I did when I was afraid.

I made lists.

I made plans.

I found weaknesses.

I destroyed problems.

There was nothing useful I could do here.

The realization was almost unbearable.

Then one of the doctors moved Jason’s hair aside.

There’s trauma here.”

I stepped closer.

Swelling covered part of the back of his skull.

“What kind?”

“Blunt force.”

My stomach turned.

“You mean he fell?”

“Possibly. But I don’t think that’s the most likely explanation.”

I stared at the injury.

“He was hit.”

The doctor didn’t answer immediately.

He didn’t need to.

I looked at Jason’s face.

All those hours underground, I had imagined him fighting.

I had been proud when we’d learned he’d escaped. Jason had woken during a transfer, attacked a guard, taken a weapon and run.

Of course he had.

That was Jason.

He fought.

Even when he was hurt.

Even when nobody knew where he was.

Even when he had no reason to believe anyone was coming.

And somewhere during that fight for freedom, somebody had hit him hard enough that now he couldn’t wake up.

My anger came clean and cold.

Mr. White had done this.

Maybe not with his own hand.

I didn’t care.

This belonged to him.

But anger couldn’t help Jason either.

So when they took him for scans, I did the only thing left to me.

+15 BS

I held his hand.

When they brought him back, someone had cleaned the dirt and most of the blood from his face. Somehow that made it worse.

He looked more like himself.

My Jason.

My husband.

The man who stole food from my plate after ordering the exact same thing. The man who could turn a business meeting into a battlefield and then come home and let Alice climb all over him. The man who had stood beside me in front of the entire world and spoken about losing his own name as a child because he wanted other survivors to know they weren’t invisible.

His wedding ring was still on his finger.

I touched it with my thumb.

They had taken his phone.

His watch.

His freedom.

They had drugged him, beaten him and dragged him through tunnels beneath Sum.

But somehow that ring was still there.

“How much?”