From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 190: A Convenient Lie

"That day, when he found out Mom had specifically asked the restaurant to prepare the pudding for Jeremy, he... deliberately tampered with it out of spite, just to cause trouble. By the time I arrived, he'd already taken off. The manager mentioned the guy was an undocumented worker from out of state who'd used fake papers. Chances are they won't be tracking him down anytime soon."

The story was airtight—a perfect culprit who'd conveniently vanished, leaving no one to contradict it.

Lucas frowned deeply, his eyes fixed on Sophia's as if trying to read the truth behind them.

After a long pause, he rubbed his temples wearily and reluctantly accepted her explanation—for now. "File a police report later. Give them whatever details you have. I don't care what it takes; we need to find him."

"Okay, I will," Sophia replied meekly, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

Just then, the ICU door opened. A nurse stepped out and informed them the child was stable and had been moved to a private suite.

Some of the tension finally eased from Lucas' shoulders. Without delay, he headed toward the room with Sophia close behind.

As Sophia passed by Riley, a faint but unfamiliar scent of cigarette smoke caught Riley's attention.

She lowered her gaze, her expression unchanging.

That upscale restaurant was well-known in Havenbrook for its impeccable service and standards. To maintain the best dining atmosphere, all staff—from managers to servers—were strictly prohibited from smoking during shifts.

So how did a mother who'd just been at that restaurant, demanding justice for her son, end up smelling so strongly of smoke?

Riley tucked that flicker of suspicion away, burying the detail somewhere deep in her thoughts.

Watching Jeremy slowly wake in his hospital bed, Sophia rushed to his side in tears, and Lucas' face finally softened into that gentle, fatherly look he reserved for his son.

The scene was so picture-perfect, so harmoniously familial, that Riley couldn't help but feel out of place.

Choosing not to overstay, she slipped away quietly without a word, disappearing down the hushed hospital corridor.

Back in her own villa, Riley finally allowed herself to unwind.

She took her time settling in, arranging each item until it felt just right in its place.

Then she walked over to her desk, picked up a brand-new planner, and circled a date boldly in red.

Less than two weeks to go.

That was the day Lucas had promised to propose to her publicly.

After that, she'd finally be free—cut loose from the Ashford family for good and ready to start living life on her own terms.

The thought brought a slight, hopeful smile to her lips.

The next day was her day off, so Riley had no work obligations.

Thinking it would be good to get to know her new neighborhood, she asked Vincent to help put together some welcoming gifts for her neighbors.

Riley had some standing in well-off circles, and the gifts were thoughtfully chosen, so the deliveries went smoothly. Everyone seemed genuinely friendly.

By noon, the only house left was the villa right next door.

Carrying the last gift, Riley approached the heavy wrought-iron gate and pressed the buzzer.

As she waited, she caught herself wondering which of Havenbrook's wealthy families lived there.

A moment later, footsteps sounded from inside, followed by the soft click of the door unlocking.

But when it swung open, Riley's polite, rehearsed smile froze in place.

It wasn't a butler or housekeeper standing there.

It was Sebastian, dressed in casual loungewear.

Their eyes met, and for a second, the air seemed to stand still.

Riley's hand, still holding the gift, hung awkwardly in the air. Her mind went completely blank.

It took her a good thirty seconds to find her voice again.

"Mr. Torres?" she managed, her tone dry and unable to mask her shock. "What are you doing here?"

Compared to her flustered reaction, Sebastian looked perfectly at ease.

"This is one of my properties too," he explained matter-of-factly. "I stay here from time to time."

With that, he stepped aside slightly, gesturing for her to come inside.

Still processing, Riley numbly followed his lead and stepped into the entryway.

The crisp, clean scent of sandalwood greeted her—calm and refined.

The living room was done in a sharp, modern minimalist style. Blacks, whites, and grays dominated, with clean lines and almost no decorative clutter. Yet every detail spoke of quiet luxury.

More importantly, the space felt lived-in—not some staged showroom meant to impress.

That realization let Riley relax a little, though it also stirred a vague, unnameable feeling somewhere in her chest.

Finally, she remembered the gift she was still holding and extended it toward him. "This is for you. Everyone in the neighborhood got one."