From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 35: Uncovering the Truth

"But what about these?" she asked, holding up one of the pills. "Just going by the smell, they don't seem like anything more than basic cooling herbs—the kind you'd use to reduce a fever."

It was becoming clear that the Ashfords were genuinely worried she might regain her health and have Lucas' child. That would put Jeremy's position in the family at risk.

Riley's expression grew tense. She stared at the small mound of powdered pills on the table. "Are these... laced with something?"

Lydia shook her head. "From the ingredients and scent, I don't think so. They're pretty common overthecounter cooling herbs. Not harmful, but not helpful either. To know for sure, though, I'd need to run a lab test."

She paused, then let out a frustrated sigh. "You don't really think the Ashfords would be reckless enough to poison you, do you?"

"No."

Riley knew they weren't that foolish—poison would leave evidence, and they'd never take a risk that obvious.

This was more like slow suffocation. They were letting hope simmer until it evaporated, wearing her down day by day with promises that would never come true.

At that thought, the corner of Riley's mouth lifted into a thin, cold smile.

"But," she said, looking straight at Lydia with steady eyes, "what if these pills became poisonous?"

Lydia's heart gave a hard thump. She studied Riley's face, where something shrewd and unspoken moved beneath the surface. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Riley replied, lowering her gaze and tucking away the chill in her tone. Her usual detached manner returned. "Let's just say I'm suddenly in the mood to play for higher stakes."

*****

After leaving Lydia's office, Riley got into her car and headed toward Harper Group.

At a downtown intersection, the light turned red. She came to a stop and let her eyes drift toward the storefronts lining the street.

Amid a stretch of somewhat worndown shops, one caught her attention: Willow's Arcade & Games. Faded posters of classic video games were taped inside the glass door, and shelves behind it were crammed with cartridges and old consoles.

Right outside the entrance, a figure was crouched low in an awkward position.

He wore a black hoodie with the hood up, hiding most of his face. Still, something about his posture looked familiar.

Riley narrowed her eyes. The profile was unmistakable—it looked just like Sebastian.

The light turned green, but she didn't drive off. Instead, she signaled and eased her car into a temporary parking spot along the curb.

As she got closer, she confirmed it: there was Sebastian, crouched near the doorway, his expression visibly irritated.

He was clearly there to buy something.

On the glass counter inside sat a vintage singleplayer game cartridge, its packaging slightly worn at the edges.

A moment later, his phone buzzed.

"How much longer? Traffic? I don't care how you figure it out, just get me the cash in ten minutes."

Then it clicked for Riley.

She'd almost forgotten—Havenbrook wasn't like Nexopolis, where digital payments were the norm. Plenty of these small, independent shops still operated on cash only.

Looked like Sebastian, billionaire that he was, found himself stuck over a few hundred dollars in physical money.

After hanging up, Sebastian's frown deepened. He checked his watch and let out a low, annoyed sound.

Just then, a young guy with a backpack walked into the store. His eyes instantly landed on the cartridge on the counter. "Whoa! You still have the firstedition release? I'll take it!" he said excitedly to the shop owner.

The owner shot a nervous glance toward Sebastian, who remained crouched near the door like a gathering storm. "Sorry, kid, but this one's... spoken for. This gentleman here called it."

"He hasn't paid yet, though, right?" The younger customer wasn't backing down. "If he's not buying it, I will. I've got cash on me."

He pulled out a few bills from his wallet.

Sebastian had heard every word. He rose slowly to his feet, and his height suddenly made the cramped shop feel even smaller. The air grew tense.

He cut the younger man a cold, silent look. No words were needed—the warning in his eyes was plain enough.

Under that gaze, the shop owner broke into a nervous sweat.

He was about to reluctantly explain to the younger customer and suggest he browse something else, when—

Riley walked in right on cue.

"How much for this?" she asked, her voice calm.

The owner blinked, then answered automatically, "Eighteighty."

Riley nodded. She took her wallet from her handbag, pulled out a stack of crisp bills, and set them gently on the glass counter.

"Keep the change. It's for this gentleman."

The young guy stared, speechless.

Sebastian turned. When he saw Riley, surprise flickered in his eyes.

She'd spent enough years in Havenbrook to handle herself with ease, and her local language was smooth.

Yet her voice still carried that soft, measured quality common in Nexopolis—almost unconscious, like a faint brush against one's attention.

It felt like a light tickle right over the heart.

But Sebastian didn't thank her.

In silence, he reached over, picked up the game cartridge from the counter, and turned to leave the store without a word.

His back was straight, his steps deliberate.

Riley didn't seem bothered by his manner.

She offered the shop owner a polite nod, then followed Sebastian out.

Outside, the afternoon streets of Havenbrook were alive with the steady murmur of traffic and pedestrians.

Sebastian walked quickly, making no move to wait for her.