A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 46

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I paused, studying him.

“Wait… were you in the hospital? Jail, maybe?”

A few of the senior staff exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Adrian didn’t look at me again. Instead, he turned toward Grandfather.

“Then I demand an Heir Trial. Involving the second and third houses. It should be put to a vote.”

Grandfather rose slowly from his chair.

The movement alone silenced the room.

“The heir of the Asher House,” he said evenly, “is an Asher. Not a Wyatt.”

Adrian stiffened.

“If you want a trial,” Grandfather continued, “you may have one. But it will not be decided by votes.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“It will be decided by assets. By merit. By proven capability.”

His gaze sharpened.

“And at this moment, the only advantage you hold is a marriage into the Vinny family. One of the Four Houses, yes – but not even from the main branch. Passable at best.”

The insult was surgical.

“Now tell me,” Grandfather finished, voice cutting, “where is your successful company, boy?”

Silence followed.

The kind that crushes.

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“I demand proof of this so-called marriage.”

I folded my arms calmly. “By all means. G****e my name and Jason’s. Youll find the video of our vows. It’s been circulating for days.” 4

Adrian immediately pulled out his phone. The room was silent except for the faint tapping of his screen.

A few seconds later, the unmistakable sound of our vows filled the office.

His face drained of color. ↑

“This has to be a joke,” he muttered. “Jason is engaged to Victoria. Everyone in the investment circle knows that.”

I tilted my head. 1

“Have you been living under a rock? This has been all over the news. There’s even a TikTok account tracking our story.” 2

I paused, studying him.

“Wait… were you in the hospital? Jail, maybe?”

Adrian didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he turned toward Grandfather.

“Then I demand an Heir Trial. Involving the Second and Third Houses. It should be put to a vote.”

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standfather rose slowly from his chair.

“The heir of the Asher House, he said evenly, is an Asher. Not a Wyatt.”

He pressed a button on his desk phone.

‘Prepare the conference room. Inform the Second and Third Houses that an Heir Trial has been invoked.” 1

Within minutes, the large screen at the end of the office lit up. One by one, members of the Second and Third Houses joined hrough Zoom, their faces appearing in neat digital frames The Heir Trials were open proceedings – any direct blood member rom the First, Second, or Third Houses had the right to witness them.

Murmurs filled the speakers.

Grandfather stood tall.

‘Since a formal request has been made, the rules will now be declared.”

The room went still.

‘The Heir Trial shall be conducted over ninety days.”

Adrian straightened slightly.

‘Each candidate will present:

– Verified personal and corporate assets.

– Active business operations and projected five-year growth.

– Strategic alliances and family partnerships.

– Public reputation index and influence metrics.

-And finally, a live board presentation before the First House.”

He paused.

‘No votes. No popularity contests. Merit alone.”

His gaze shifted between Adrian and me.

*During these ninety days, neither candidate may receive direct financial transfer from the First House. You will stand on what you have built.”

A ripple went through the Zoom call.

“The candidate who demonstrates superior asset control, sustainable growth, and strategic foresight will be named Heir of the Asher House.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“And understand this clearly-marriage alone does not secure the seat.”

Adrian’s lips curved slightly.

Grandfather continued.

“But neither does empty ambition.”

Then, calmly:

“The trial begins tomorrow.”

214

W

Silence followed.

Ninety days.

War had just been declared.

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