A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 435

Before The Storm

Amber POV

The first time I visited Adrian, I wasn’t prepared for what I would see.

I had known he was in critical condition, and Emory had explained that the aconite in his system had caused severe toxicity, but hearing the details and seeing the reality of it were two very different things. Adrian lay in the middle of the hospital bed, surrounded by equipment that monitored almost every function of his body. Tubes wires, monitors, and machines filled the space around him, each one serving a purpose I could barely understand. The steady beeping of the monitors was the only indication that his body was still fighting. For a moment, I simply stood at the doorway, struggling to reconcile the man I knew with the fragile figure lying in front of me

It was difficult to imagine that he was still alive.

I slowly approached the bed and pulled a chair beside him. His face looked pale, and he hadn’t moved since they brought him back from the warehouse. I wanted to reach for his hand, but I hesitated when I noticed the medical equipment attached to him. Eventually, I settled for resting my fingers gently against his.

“You’re making a terrible habit of worrying everyone,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond, of course.

I tried to smile, but my throat tightened before I could manage it. Adrian had spent years helping me protect Asher Corporation, taking on responsibilities that most people would have struggled to manage. He had been loyal even when his own family turned against him, and he had never abandoned the people he loved. Now he was lying in a hospital bed because someone had decided that his life was expendable.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened if Jasmine and Noah hadn’t found him.

What if they had arrived too late? What if the warehouse had been abandoned before anyone discovered where he was being held? What if the people responsible had decided to make certain that he never left that place alive?

I squeezed his hand carefully.

“I’m glad we found you,” I murmured. “You have no idea how glad I am.”

My eyes burned, and I lowered my head for a moment. I had survived my own poisoning because Emory and the medical team had acted quickly, because Jason had refused to give up on me, and because so many people had worked tirelessly to bring me back. I was painfully aware that Adrian’s recovery might not be as straightforward as mine had been. Still, I was grateful for every person who had fought for both of us, for the people who had searched when there seemed to be no answers, and for the people who had refused to accept that we were beyond saving.

When I finally stood, I looked at Adrian one last time.

“You’re coming back to us,” I told him, even though I knew I couldn’t promise him how or when. “Clara and the baby are waiting for you. Rose misses you, and Asher Corporation is going to be a nightmare without you.”

I gave his hand another gentle squeeze.

“So you’d better wake up before I have to manage everything myself.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say to an unconscious man, but somehow, it made leaving a little easier.

The following days brought a different kind of challenge.

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Every day, Jason and I attended physical therapy. Nobody ever tells you that when your body has been seriously ill or injured, recovering isn’t simply a matter of waking up and deciding to return to normal. Your body has to remember how to work properly, and sometimes even the simplest movements become exhausting exercises in patience. Standing for too long could leave me tired, while walking across a room required more concentration than I cared to admit. Jason had his own frustrations, although he was considerably better at hiding them than I

was.

Unfortunately for him, I had become very good at recognizing when he was pretending to be fine.

One afternoon, after he struggled through an exercise and tried to act as though nothing had happened, I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you going to pretend that didn’t hurt?”

Jason glanced at me. “Are you going to pretend you weren’t counting how many times I had to try?”

“Of course. I’m a very supportive wife.”

“You look far too pleased with yourself to be supportive.”

I smiled sweetly. “I’m simply happy to see that your competitive spirit survived.”

He shook his head, but the faint smile on his face told me he wasn’t particularly offended. The truth was that we both needed these moments. There were days when the progress seemed painfully slow, when I became frustrated with my own limitations and Jason grew impatient with his recovery. Having someone beside me who understood that frustration made it easier to keep going.

We were learning to be patient with ourselves, even when neither of us particularly wanted to be.

At least, we were trying.

The twins were doing well, and their presence had quickly become the most comforting part of my days. Lucas and Ethan stayed with me whenever the medical staff allowed it, and I had become accustomed to their tiny noises, their sleepy expressions, and the way they seemed perfectly content to rest against me. Sometimes I would look down at them and struggle to believe how much had happened before I was finally able to hold them properly. I had missed their birth and their first moments of life, but I was determined not to spend the rest of their childhood mourning the time I couldn’t get back.

Instead, I focused on the moments I had now.

Alice, Alex, and Rose visited every day after school. Alice usually arrived first, eager to tell me everything that had happened during her day, while Alex tried to appear more mature and insisted he was only there to check on the babies. Rose was quieter, but she always found a reason to stay close to me. Their visits gradually became part of our routine, and I looked forward to them more than I could explain.

One afternoon, Mrs. Sun arrived carrying her phone with an expression that immediately made me suspicious.

“I have something to show you,” she announced.

I glanced up from Ethan, who was sleeping against my chest. “Should I be worried?”

“That depends on your opinion of your daughter.”

She sat beside me and held out her phone. The photograph showed Iris sitting on the floor with her legs stretched in front of her, glaring furiously at Jasmine, who stood nearby with the unmistakable expression of someone who had absolutely no intention of apologizing. A few training mats were scattered across the floor, and Iris’s hair looked as though she had recently survived a small natural disaster.

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I stared at the picture before slowly turning toward Mrs. Sun.

What happened?”

Mrs. Sun looked delighted. “Apparently, Jasmine decided Iris needed to learn self–defense.”

I looked at the photograph again. Iris’s expression suggested that she was considering several creative ways to murder her instructor.

“That looks less like self–defense training and more like a family dispute.”

Mrs. Sun laughed. “Jasmine says Iris has excellent instincts but terrible defensive habits.”

“Did Jasmine actually say that?”

“Those were her exact words.”

I sighed, trying very hard not to laugh loudly wake Ethan. “And Iris?”

ugh to

“She informed Jasmine that she was going to

member this for the rest of her life.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Poor Iris. She had probably expected an ordinary afternoon and instead found herself on the floor, being lectured about footwork by a girl who considered rules a

convinced she was doing Iris a favor. Knowing Onal challenge. Knowing Jasmine, she was probably

Iris, she would spend the next week plotting revenge.

“At least she’s learning something useful,” I finally said.

Mrs. Sun nodded. “That’s what I told her.”

I returned the phone and adjusted Ethan carefully against my chest. For a little while, we talked about the children, school, and the small things that had continued happening outside the hospital. It was comforting to hear ordinary family stories again, especially after so many days when every conversation had revolved around injuries, investigations, and the people who had tried to destroy us.

But there was one person whose absence I couldn’t ignore.

The president of Sum hadn’t appeared once.

Not to ask about our recovery. Not to offer an explanation for the blocked signal. Not even to make one of his carefully worded appearances in which he presented himself as a concerned ally.

He had simply disappeared from our immediate circle.

I couldn’t decide whether he was hiding because he knew we were beginning to suspect him or whether he was quietly preparing his next move. Either possibility was troubling, and the fact that we still didn’t understand his motives made it worse. Jason and I had discussed the evidence repeatedly, but suspicion wasn’t proof. We needed to know how much he had done, who had helped him, and what he had been trying to accomplish from the beginning.

Until we had those answers, we couldn’t afford to assume he was finished.

That evening, Jason had just returned from therapy when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his expression changed as soon as he saw who was calling.

“Mr. Stait,” he said, answering immediately.

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I watched him from the bed while he listened. At first, his face remained unreadable, but then his shoulders stiffened, and he moved closer to the window. I couldn’t hear everything Mr. Stait was saying, yet I knew from Jason’s expression that this wasn’t an ordinary update.

“What did you find?” Jason asked.

He listened for several seconds before speaking again.

“You’re certain?”

Another pause followed.

“Send me everything you have.”