A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 418

A week

Jason POV

I was sitting beside Amber when Noah called.

The ventilator continued its steady rhythm beside me, pushing air into her lungs while the monitors tracked every heartbeat as if numbers could somehow reassure me that my wife was still here. I had been holding her hand for so long that my fingers had gone stiff around hers, but I couldn’t make myself let go.

My phone vibrated against the arm of the wheelchair.

Noah.

I answered immediately. “Tell me you found Jasmine.”

“I found her.”

Some of the tension left my shoulders. “Is she all right?”

“She’s Jasmine.”

That wasn’t an answer, but somehow it was.

“She’s with me,” Noah continued. “Leo gave her a location connected to the conversation he overheard. It led us to an Asher hotel.”

My attention sharpened. “What did you find?”

“Someone is using Mr. Asher’s identity to reserve a suite. Room 355. We found Adrian’s younger brother there, completely drunk. He wasn’t alone.”

I looked toward Amber.

“Adrian?”

“Not Adrian. His younger brother. We didn’t approach him. We planted a microphone and kept moving.”

“What did you hear?”

There was a short silence.

“Enough that I think Adrian’s family is involved somehow. I can’t tell you yet whether they’re responsible for ordering the poisoning, helping the people who did it, or being used by someone else, but the connection is getting harder to dismiss.”

That distinction mattered.

After everything we’d uncovered over the last few months, I had learned not to confuse suspicion with proof.

“Don’t confront anyone,” I said. “And don’t let Jasmine do it either.”

Noah actually laughed.

“That’s considerably harder.”

“I know.”

“I’ll keep you updated.”

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“And Noah?”

Reah?”

“Bring her back in one piece.”

His answer came without hesitation. “I intend to.”

I ended the call and looked at Amber again.

Her face hadn’t changed.

For one irrational second, I wanted her to open her eyes simply because I had new information. Amber always knew what to do with information. She would have taken Noah’s report apart piece by piece, separated evidence from assumption and somehow noticed the detail everyone else had missed.

Instead, the ventilator breathed for her.

I sent one message asking Mr. Asher, Mr. Stait and Emory to come to Amber’s room.

They arrived within minutes.

I repeated everything Noah had told me: the hotel, the person impersonating Mr. Asher, Room 355, Adrian’s younger brother and the possibility that Adrian’s family was connected to the people behind the poisoning.

Mr. Asher’s expression hardened immediately.

“Someone used my name in one of my family’s hotels?”

“Apparently.”

“And the staff accepted it?”

“That’s another problem.”

Mr. Stait was already making notes. “No confrontation until Noah sends us the recording. We identify every voice first. I want the reservation records, payment method, security footage and access logs preserved before anyone realizes we’re interested.”

“Agreed,” Mr. Asher said. “I’ll authorize whatever you need without alerting hotel management beyond whoever is absolutely necessary.”

Emory had remained near Amber’s monitors, listening while checking something on her chart.

I looked at him. “How long?”

He glanced up.

I didn’t need to explain.

“How long until she wakes up?”

Emory’s expression softened slightly. “Jason, I don’t expect Amber to regain consciousness quickly. Between the sedative exposure, the botulinum toxin, the surgery and everything her body is recovering from, we’re probably looking at at least a week.”

A week.

The words felt absurd.

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