A Woman Worth Billions Dated the Wrong Brother novel Chapter 175

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Chaos

Amber POV

Jason took control of the base so naturally it was almost unsettling.

There was no announcement.

No formal transfer of authority.

No one asked him to lead.

He simply began giving instructions-

and everyone listened.

Everyone except the man still locked out of his account.

He remained trapped in his own personal tragedy, stabbing at his keyboard while the world moved on without

him.

Jason stood near the central screens and started dividing the room into tasks.

“You two, maritime logs.”

“Cross-reference all private vessel departures in the last seventy-two hours.”

“Pull customs manifests.”

“Check fuel purchases near the docks.”

“Review warehouse ownership within a five-kilometer radius.”

People moved immediately.

No hesitation.

No confusion.

Even John Stait said nothing.

Which told me everything.

Within minutes, the room transformed.

Multiple teams followed separate leads.

Phones rang.

Maps updated.

Names surfaced.

Routes narrowed.

The chaos became direction.

Jason sat at a secure terminal connected to an isolated network.

His posture shifted the moment he began working there.

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Sharper.

Quieter.

More dangerous.

Cronos.

Even under his own name, that part of him had entered the room.

He was pulling information no one else could access, chasing patterns buried behind layers of classification and false walls.

Beside me, Alex and I stayed with the footage.

Again.

And again.

And again.

We replayed every angle.

Every timestamp.

Every reflection.

Every movement at the docks.

By the thirtieth viewing, my eyes burned.

Alex was still completely focused.

Children and obsession had more in common than people realized.

Then I saw it.

A flash.

Not in the main frame.

In the reflection of a recently polished car parked near the ferry lane.

“Stop.”

Alex froze the video instantly.

Good reflexes.

I leaned closer.

There.

In the mirrored surface.

Distorted but clear enough.

The teenagers were not being taken onto the ferry.

They were being unloaded. 1

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Moved from the ferry.

en carried across the dock toward a large metal container.

No markings.

Industrial grade.

Placed directly on-site.

My pulse steadied.

Focused.

Cold.

“They used the ferry as misdirection,” I said quietly.

Alex looked from the screen to me, eyes wide.

“So they never left?”

“Not by water.”

I stood immediately.

Across the room, Jason looked up before I even called his name.

He read my face and was already moving.

“We have something,” I said.

I pointed at the reflection.

At the container.

At the truth hidden in plain sight.

Our first real clue.

“Jason.”

He was already beside me before I said anything else.

John Stait followed a second later, several analysts close behind.

Alex remained in his chair, looking deeply satisfied with himself.

As he should.

I pointed at the frozen frame on the screen.

The polished car.

The warped reflection.

The movement no one had noticed until now.

“My theory was correct,” I said.

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I replayed the sequence slowly.

Prame by frame.

“They were not taken onto the ferry.”

I highlighted the reflected shapes.

“They were placed into a container on the dock.”

The room leaned in.

People who had dismissed the footage earlier were now staring at it like scripture.

John Stait’s expression hardened.

“So the ferry was theater.”

“Yes,” I said.

“A visible route to make everyone search the water while they stayed on land.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he studied the container.

Then he looked back at his terminal.

Something on his screen had changed.

He moved quickly, fingers flying across the keys.

One secure file after another opened under layers of restricted access.

Then he went still.

I knew that stillness.

It meant he had found something bad.

“What is it?” I asked.

Jason looked up.

His expression was colder than before.

“I found the motive.”

The room went silent again.

He turned the monitor so John Stait could see.

Encrypted communications.

Transfers.

Flags.

Foreign intermediaries.

“Someone offered an enormous amount of money,” Jason said, “to kidnap the teenagers.”

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John’s jaw tightened.

For ransoni?”

Jason shook his head once.

“No.”

A pause.

“To start an international war.”

The words hit the room like an explosion.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Twenty-two gifted teenagers.

Relatives of allied nations.

The President’s grandchildren.

Children valuable enough to destabilize governments if blamed on the wrong enemy.

It was never just a kidnapping.