The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 149

Aveline

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry—I should have been clearer," Grandma Eleanor's voice carried a note of apology that immediately made me feel guilty for panicking. "It's not me. It's Vivian. She's in the hospital."

I felt my shoulders relax slightly, though confusion quickly took the place of panic. "Vivian? What happened?"

"She's... she's bleeding," Grandma Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a worried whisper. "From down there, you know. The doctors say tonight could be critical—they're not sure if they can save the baby."

Despite all my suspicions about Vivian's pregnancy, despite everything she'd put me through, I felt a genuine pang of sympathy. Losing a pregnancy, real or not, was devastating for any woman.

"Grandma, send me the address," I said immediately, already mentally calculating the fastest route to whichever hospital they were at. "I'll be there as soon as I can. And don't worry about any medical bills—I'll handle whatever insurance doesn't cover."

But instead of the relieved acceptance I expected, there was an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line.

"Well," Grandma Eleanor said slowly, "Vivian specifically asked that we not... that we don't trouble you to come down here."

The words hit me like a cold slap. I stopped walking entirely, standing frozen in the middle of the shoe department while shoppers flowed around me.

*Of course. The last person Vivian wants to see during her 'medical crisis' is me.*

"I see," I said quietly, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. "Well, if that's what she wants."

"And as for the money," Grandma Eleanor continued, her voice becoming even more hesitant, "I've... I've used my stock portfolio as collateral. Your stepfather needed to arrange an emergency loan."

Every alarm bell in my head started ringing at once. "Stock portfolio? Grandma, those shares in Hartwell Industries are the only stake you have left in the company. That's your only remaining connection to what you and Grandpa built together."

"I know, sweetheart, but they said it was urgent. Richard had lawyers draw up the paperwork immediately so they could get the loan approved and get Vivian into this specialized private facility."

I closed my eyes, feeling the familiar weight of disappointment and anger settling in my chest. The pieces were falling into place with depressing clarity.

"Of course they did," I murmured.

"What was that, dear?"

"Nothing, Grandma." I forced my voice to remain steady and supportive. "You just focus on taking care of Vivian tonight. Don't exhaust yourself. I'll send a driver to pick you up tomorrow morning."

"You're such a good girl, Aveline. I don't know what I'd do without you."

*If only you knew what your 'real' family was doing to you.*

After we hung up, I stood there for a moment, staring at my phone and feeling Luna's concerned gaze on me.

"Everything okay?" she asked gently. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I managed a weak smile, slipping my phone back into my purse. "Family drama. Nothing too serious, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be very good company for the rest of the evening."

"Of course," Luna said immediately, linking her arm through mine. "Do you want to talk about it? We could grab coffee somewhere quiet."

"Thanks, but I think I just need to go home and process." I squeezed her arm gratefully. "Rain check?"

"Absolutely. Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

As we headed toward the parking garage, Luna shot me a mischievous look. "Though after experiencing your Formula One driving skills, I think I'll take the subway home."

Despite everything, I laughed. "It wasn't that bad!"

"Aveline, you took that corner on two wheels. I'm pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes."

"Fine, be dramatic," I said, giving her a quick hug goodbye. "Text me when you get home safely."

---

The drive back to my neighborhood gave me time to think, and the more I thought, the angrier I became.

Hartwell Industries had been my grandparents' life work—a small textile company they'd built from nothing in the 1960s. Under their leadership, it had grown into a respected mid-sized business with a solid reputation for quality and reliability.

But ever since Richard had taken over management, the company had been slowly dying. Poor decisions, missed opportunities, and general incompetence had driven away longtime clients and eroded profit margins year after year.

The irony was that the Hartwell brand still had value. The company's reputation for traditional craftsmanship and ethical business practices was exactly what modern consumers were looking for. In the right hands, with proper investment and strategic planning, it could absolutely be revitalized.

*But Richard doesn't want to revitalize it. He wants to liquidate it.*

That had to be his endgame. Get control of Grandma Eleanor's shares, combine them with his existing stake, and sell the whole company to the highest bidder. He'd walk away with a substantial payout while destroying everything my grandparents had worked for.

The thought of Grandma Eleanor discovering that she'd been manipulated into signing away her life's work made my chest tight with protective fury.

*I can't let this happen. But I also can't break her heart by telling her what her family is really doing.*

I was so caught up in strategizing potential solutions that I barely noticed when my phone buzzed with a text message. When I glanced down at the red light, I saw Orion's name on the screen.

**Orion: Do you have any... 'needs' tonight?**

Despite everything—despite my worry about Grandma Eleanor, despite my anger at Richard's scheme—I found myself smiling. The timing was almost perfect, because I actually did need something from him, though probably not what he was expecting.

I was driving through his neighborhood anyway, and I could see the gleaming lights of his penthouse building rising above the tree line in the distance. The man did have resources, connections, and business expertise that could be extremely useful in dealing with the Hartwell Industries situation.

*Plus, I have to admit, the distraction wouldn't hurt right now.*

I pulled over briefly to type out a response.

**Me: Actually, I'm driving past your place right now. Turns out I do have some 'needs' that require your particular expertise tonight.**