Marry Ex's Billionaire Uncle After Divorce (Aurora and Jasper) novel Chapter 157

: The Threat

(Author’s POV)

“Martha.” He said her name the way you said the name of something you’d already decided to step on. “We both know that’s not true. And even if it were – you’d find a way. You always do.” He tilted his head. “How’s the boy doing, anyway? Leo. He’s had a rough year, from what I understand. Surgery, wasn’t it? Heart’s not quite right.”

Martha’s hands went still on the table.

“Kids like that,” Neil said, almost gently, “you worry about them. All kinds of things can happen. Accidents. Stress. Doesn’t take much when the body’s already fragile.”

“Don’t.” The word came out barely above a whisper.

“Three days.” He stood up, tucking the DNA report back into his jacket. “Get me the money, Martha. Or find a way to get Aurora to bring it herself. Either works for me.”

He left.

Martha sat at the table for a long time. The coffee in front of her went cold. The other customers came

and went. The barista wiped down the counter and didn’t look at her.

She thought about Aurora, who hadn’t spoken to her in months. Who had every reason to never speak to

her again.

She thought about Leo, who had a scar on his chest from a surgery he’d barely gotten through, who walked home from school alone because he was seventeen and didn’t know yet that some things came

back for you.

She picked up her phone.

She opened Aurora’s contact and stared at it for a while.

Then she typed: *Aurora, I know I don’t deserve to reach out. I’ve treated you badly for a long time and I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. If you can find it in your heart to see me, even just once, I’m asking you to come.

Please.*

She read it over twice, then sent it before she could change her mind.

(Aurora’s POV)

The message came in while I was reviewing lab notes after dinner.

I read it once. Then I put my phone face–down on the desk and sat there for a minute.

Martha had never apologized for anything in her life. Not once, in all the years I could remember. She’d justified, deflected, minimized, and occasionally pretended nothing had happened at all – but she had never once said *I’m sorry* and meant it without wanting something in return.

I thought about the DNA report Sienna had given me. I already knew what it said. Stephen Caldwell wasn’t my biological father. I’d known it, or suspected it, for long enough that the confirmation hadn’t broken anything in me. The man who’d read me bedtime stories and taught me to ride a bike and called me his girl – that was my father. A piece of paper didn’t change that.

But the message nagged at me. Not because of Martha. Because of Leo.

I hadn’t spoken to him since the dormitory move. He’d texted me two days ago, just a brief check–in, but he hadn’t mentioned anything unusual. Still Martha reaching out with an apology this abrupt, this uncharacteristic, meant something had shifted. And the only thing I could think of that would make Martha this rattled was something that also touched Leo.

I texted back: *I’ll come by tomorrow evening.*

I kept it short. I wasn’t making promises I didn’t intend to keep, and I wasn’t pretending this was a

reconciliation.

Martha opened the door before I’d finished knocking.

She’d dressed carefully – a neat blouse, hair done. The apartment was tidy. I could smell something sweet

coming from the kitchen.

“Aurora.” She stepped back to let me in. “Come in, come in. I’m so glad you came.”

“Where’s Leo?” I asked. I stepped inside but stayed near the door.

“Oh, he’s at school. They have evening study sessions this week – he won’t be back until late.” She was already moving toward the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Sit down, sit down. I made strawberry cheesecake – you used to love it, remember? And I’ve got the kettle on.”

She came back with a plate and two cups of tea, setting them on the coffee table with the careful attention of someone arranging a stage set. The cheesecake looked good. She’d clearly put effort into it.

I sat down. I looked at the plate. I looked at her.

She was smiling too much.

“Martha.” I picked up the tea and set it back down. “I don’t have a lot of time. What did you want to talk

about?”

Her smile flickered. She laughed – a short, dry sound.

“Can’t a mother just want to see her daughter?”

I didn’t answer.

She held my gaze for a moment, then looked away. The performance dropped. She folded her hands in her lap and tried a different approach.

“I was just wondering – the divorce. It’s all finalized? Everything went through the courts properly?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She nodded, as if confirming something she’d already calculated. “Good. So you would have

received your settlement. Your share of everything.” She paused. “That kind of money most people never see that in a lifetime.”

I waited.

“I was hoping,” she said carefully, “that you might be able to help out with something. A loan, really. My brother has an investment that’s gone sideways, and he needs about a million dollars to cover it, and I thought – since you’re in a position now where that’s not impossible-”

I watched her expression, and the last trace of tenderness that had stirred in my heart completely vanished into thin air.

Of course. It was always about money.

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