FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS (Ophelia Corrigan) novel Chapter 198

CHAPTER 198

– JAMIE

I woke to the sound of someone moving around the bedroom.

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When I opened my eyes, Simon was standing in front of the mirror, buttoning a white dress shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. He adjusted his cuffs and carefully fastened his watch, trying not to make a sound. Apparently, he hadn’t realized I was awake.

“Sneaking out on me?”

He caught my eye in the mirror.

“I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, that didn’t work. Where are you going this early?”

“The factory.”

I sat up.

“I’m coming with you.”

Simon turned around.

“Jamie, you barely slept. After all the sex we had last night, I figured you’d want to stay in bed until noon.”

“You didn’t get much sleep either. And unless I’m remembering wrong, you weren’t complaining when you asked me to ride you for the third time.”

He raised an eyebrow, wearing that wicked grin I knew so well.

“And you were pretty enthusiastic about it, weren’t you?”

“I’m starting to think my husband’s a pervert.”

“Only when it comes to my wife.”

“How romantic.”

“Want me to get back in bed and show you?”

“I want you to admit we’re equally guilty. And that I’m coming to the factory.”

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, but before I could stand, Simon came over. He braced a hand on the mattress and leaned down to kiss me. It started as a quick kiss, but he came back for another, deeper this time. I caught his shirt and pulled him closer.

“Fifteen minutes,” he murmured against my lips.

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“Twenty. I’m washing my hair. And don’t even think about leaving without me, because if you do, I’ll make a point of showing up at your office today.”

“You’re a ruthless negotiator.”

“That’s why you married me.”

“Not the only reason.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. I pushed lightly against his chest, smiling.

“Get out of here, Hart. Or we’re going to be late.”

The reception we got at the factory was nothing like the welcome Simon usually received at company events. Employees greeted us cautiously, as though anything they said might end up in a headline.

It was obvious the scandal had shaken the people who worked there, too.

Two reporters were still waiting outside near the gate.

Simon ignored them.

He asked the operations manager for production records, shift schedules, and the history of the batches under investigation.

“I don’t want a polished presentation,” he told the manager. “I want to know where we might have screwed up.”

We were shown into a small conference room that smelled of stale coffee. A whiteboard on the wall was covered in production targets. Simon laid a copy of Annie’s employee file on the table.

“We’d also like to speak with anyone who worked directly with her,” he explained.

The first employee, Marta, studied the photograph. Her expression changed immediately.

“Annie?”

“You knew her?” I asked.

“We worked the same shift for months. But I wouldn’t exactly say I knew her.”

Marta said Annie came in early, did her job, and left without stopping to chat. She never talked about her family, turned down invitations to lunch, and even avoided the group chats.

“At first I thought she was shy,” Marta said. “Then I started thinking maybe she just didn’t like anybody.”

“Did she ever have trouble with anyone here? Any arguments or disagreements?” Simon asked.

“Not that I saw. Honestly, she barely gave anyone a chance to talk to her.”

The second employee, Janet, went serious the moment she saw the picture.

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“There was this one day I found her crying in the parking lot. A few weeks before this whole mess started.”

That got my attention.

“Did she tell you what happened?” I asked.

“No. I asked if she was okay, but she wiped her face real quick and said it was nothing. You could tell something was wrong, though. She was so shaken she dropped her motorcycle keys.”

“Did you notice anything else?” Simon asked.

Janet thought for a moment.

“She kept looking toward the entrance to the parking lot. Like she was scared somebody might show up. But I let it go. Everybody’s got their own problems, right?”

“Anything else you remember about her? Even something that seems insignificant?” Simon asked.

Janet considered the question for a few seconds.

“Actually, now that you mention it, there is one thing. She hated having her picture taken.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“At somebody’s birthday celebration, one of the girls took a group photo. Annie was in the background. When she saw it, she demanded they delete it. Didn’t ask. Demanded. She was absolutely furious.”

“Maybe she had a personal reason,” I said.

“Sure. But it was weird. After that, she’d leave the room whenever somebody pulled out a phone.”

Janet hesitated before going on.

“Sorry to ask, but why are you so interested in her? Is something going on that we don’t know about?”

I exchanged a look with Simon.

“We’re still checking some information,” I said. “And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread any rumors.”

Janet nodded, though she looked disappointed.

Once we were alone, I looked over the file again. Address, phone number, employment history. Enough information to hire someone.

“Everybody remembers Annie,” I murmured. “But nobody knows a thing about her.”

“That’s exactly what’s bothering me,” Simon said.

We headed to the technical area with the manager and the quality supervisor. Beyond the glass, the production lines had been shut down for inspection. I could see labeled containers, barcode scanners, and digital records displayed on the terminals.

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“Could an employee change the formula without anyone noticing?” Simon asked.

The supervisor chose her words carefully.

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“A breach isn’t impossible, Mr. Hart. But it wouldn’t be as simple as pouring something into a tank. Ingredients are dispensed according to an approved formula, and raw materials are tracked by batch. Operating equipment and changing parameters require different permissions. We also have weighing procedures, samples, and release testing.”

“And who has those permissions?”

“Process engineering and a few authorized employees. Every access should leave a record.”

“Should?” I repeated.

She held my gaze.

“The records exist. We need to verify that they’re complete and check whether there were any operational exceptions.”

Simon folded his arms.

“Then check any unusual access, manual adjustments, weighing discrepancies, and raw-material movements. I want the original data preserved. Don’t rebuild spreadsheets to make them easier for me to read. I want the raw records, exactly as they were entered. Understood?”

The manager nodded quickly.

“Understood, Mr. Hart. We’re already cooperating with the independent forensic team as well.”

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