A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 163

Jason did not.

“It turned out the site was a trap,” he continued. “Built by the military to attract hackers they considered useful.”

Scott lifted his glass.

“Ambrosia Project.”

The name settled over the table with immediate recognition.

Even those who had been smiling grew more attentive.

Jason nodded once.

“They gave me a choice. Prison… or the program.”

I studied him quietly.

“And you chose the program.”

“I chose not to waste years in a cell,” he replied dryly.

That earned another round of laughter.

But Jason was not finished.

“The generals told me there had only ever been one hacker who successfully took the information they needed…”

He paused.

“And was never caught.”

Something about the way he said it made me still.

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Then I laughed.

Not polite laughter.

Not controlled amusement.

A real laugh.

Full.

Bright.

Unrestrained.

The sound seemed to ripple through the room.

Several people stared.

A few smiled without meaning to.

Even the bartender glanced over.

Jason looked at me sharply.

And then I saw it.

The moment it dawned on him.

His eyes narrowed.

Slowly.

He leaned closer.

“You are playing with me, Amber.”

His voice had dropped.

Low.

Accusing.

Almost disbelieving.

“You did not.”

I said nothing.

I only smiled.

The silence that followed was louder than laughter.

Scott lowered his drink.

Sierra straightened beside me.

Both of them were staring now. 1

Surprised.

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Curious.

Trying to recalculate everything they thought they knew.

Scott spoke first.

“No way.”

Sierra looked between us.

“Amber…”

I rested my chin lightly on my hand and looked at Jason.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“You never asked.”

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John Stait

The table erupted.

Scott nearly choked on his drink.

Sierra covered her mouth, laughing openly now.

Several members of the team began talking at unce, trying to process what I had just implied.

Jason only stared at me.

Half accusation.

Half disbelief.

And something else beneath it.

Something dangerously amused.

I was enjoying that expression far too much.

Then the room shifted.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But the kind of shift that happens when someone important enters a space and everyone notices before they speak.

Conversations lowered.

Several people straightened instinctively.

Even Scott looked toward the entrance.

I followed their gaze.

A man in his late fifties walked in with the easy confidence of someone long accustomed to command.

Well dressed.

Sharp-eyed.

Silver at the temples.

The kind of presence that did not need introduction.

I knew immediately who he had to be.

John Stait.

Secretary of Defense.

Ana Buenfila’s father. 1

He had apparently arrived in time to hear the last part of the conversation.

Wonderful.

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His eyes found Jason instantly.

Then he smiled.

Warm.

Familiar.

Far too familiar.

He walked straight toward our table.

“Son,” he said as he reached Jason.

“How are you?”

The entire table went silent.

I slowly turned to look at Jason.

John Stait clapped him on the shoulder like a proud relative.

“I heard you got married,” he continued.

Then he glanced around theatrically.

“Where was my invitation, eh?”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

I looked at Jason.

Then at the hand still resting on his shoulder.

Then back at Jason.

“Son?” I repeated softly.

Scott was staring into his glass with the concentration of a man trying not to laugh himself unconscious.

Sierra had gone completely still beside me.

No one wanted to miss what happened next.

Jason closed his eyes for one brief second.

The expression of a man betrayed by the universe itself.

Then he opened them and looked at me.

“It is not what it sounds like.”

That only made it worse.

I smiled.

Slowly.

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“Oh?” I said.

Then by all means, Jason…”

I gestured politely toward the Secretary of Defense.

“Explain.”

Jason looked like a man calculating whether escape through the nearest wall was still possible.

I was enjoying myself immensely.

John Stait laughed, rich and unbothered, clearly delighted by the discomfort around the table.

“I suppose this is the wife, then?”

His gaze moved over me, assessing but not unkind.

“You always did like pretty little things,” he said to Jason.

Then he shook his head with theatrical disappointment.

“Though I must say, Ana was stunned you actually decided someone was worth marrying after making it clear, time and time again, that you were waiting for someone.”

That caught my attention.