Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 99

Chapter 99 The Lawyer’s Secret Hidden Envelope

I ended the call. I rested my head against the tinted window. The dark, skeletal trees flashed by, replaced eventually by the glowing lights of the capital city. The skyline stretched across the horizon, a sprawling grid of glass and steel. I owned a piece of that grid

now. I held power. Yet, the emptiness in my chest continued to grow.

Tristan’s face haunted my thoughts. The pure desperation in his eyes when he turned against Harriet. He finally did what I begged

him to do a year ago. He stood in the light and claimed me.

He was a year too late.

The town car pulled into the underground garage of my residential building. The concrete walls offered a stark contrast to the grand

architecture of the Johnston estate. This was my territory.

Marcus and Leo escorted me to the private elevator. We rode up to the top floor in silence.

I unlocked the door to the penthouse. The apartment was dark and completely empty. The silence greeted me, heavy and unbroken.

I missed the soft sounds of Elias breathing in the nursery. I missed Lucia humming in the kitchen.

“We will take the hall watch, Marcus stated, standing in the doorway. “Get some sleep, Miss Hayes.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” I said.

I closed the door. The deadbolts clicked into place.

I walked into the master bedroom. I did not turn on the main lights. I relied on the ambient glow from the city outside my floor-to-

ceiling windows.

I took off my leather heels. They hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud. I shrugged off the crimson blazer, feeling the immediate

relief of shedding the heavy fabric. I tossed the jacket onto the edge of the bed.

As the blazer landed, a small, white rectangle slipped out of the side pocket. It fluttered through the air and landed on the dark rug.

I stared at it.

It was the business card. The card Arthur Vance shoved into my hand just before Harriet stormed into the foyer. In the chaos of the

confrontation, I completely forgot about the strange family lawyer and his faded manila folder.

I knelt on the rug. I picked up the card.

The front featured simple black text. Arthur Vance. Senior Counsel. Johnston Family Trust.

I flipped the card over.

A handwritten message covered the back. The ink was dark and the script was rushed, written by a man who knew he had seconds to

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Chapter 99 The Lawyer’s Secret Hidden Envelope

pass the information.

They lie about everything, the note read. Your mother did not just work in a bakery. Ask Harriet about the 1996 shareholder expansion.

Ask her about the missing beneficiary.

I read the words again. I read them a third time. The letters seemed to blur, mocking my understanding of my own life.

My mother. The woman who came home with flour in her hair and burns on her arms from the industrial ovens. The woman who

died in a crowded public ward because we lacked the money for private care. The woman who told me my father was a dockworker

who left before I could walk.

Arthur Vance claimed she was connected to the Johnston empire. He claimed she existed in their sealed shareholder ledgers.

My mind spun, trying to connect the jagged pieces. Harriet Montgomery’s vicious insults echoed in my head. She called me gommon stock. She called me dirt. But underneath her rage, there was something else. A hatred. She did not just despise my lack of wealth

She despised me.

I stood up. I walked over to the large windows, looking down at the sprawling, glittering city.

The Johnston family did not just ruin my marriage. They did not just try to steal my son. They held secrets about my own blood. They knew things about my mother that I never knew.

I crushed the business card in my hand.

The war was not over. The battle over Elias was just a symptom of a much deeper, darker disease infecting this family. If my mother held a claim to the Johnston legacy, if she was a missing beneficiary, it meant Harriet robbed us. It meant my mother died in poverty while the people in that dining room drank expensive wine on her dime.

A dangerous fire ignited in my chest. It burned hotter than the revenge I sought for my ruined marriage. This was no longer about a

broken heart or a corporate takeover.

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