The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 211

Devan

CRASH!

The sound of my priceless Ming vase shattering against the marble floor barely registered as I watched my son pace around our living room like a rabid animal. Dwayne's face was purple with rage, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white.

"That fucking bitch!" he snarled, kicking at the porcelain fragments. "Someone actually came to rescue her! How the hell did she pull that off?"

I settled into my leather armchair and reached for the crystal tumbler of Macallan 25 that Morrison had thoughtfully prepared. The smooth burn of aged whiskey helped calm my nerves after today's clusterfuck.

"Sit down and stop throwing tantrums," I said coolly, gesturing to the sofa beside me. "You're thinking like an amateur, boy. Someone rescuing her isn't necessarily the disaster you think it is."

Dwayne flopped down next to me, his confusion evident in those vacant eyes of his. "Are you losing your mind, Dad? We just lost our chance to grab her grandmother! Tomorrow is our final shot at destroying Orion, and if we don't find a way to sabotage his victory, we're completely fucked!"

I allowed myself a small smile, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "Patience, son. I still have cards to play." I paused, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "Though I'll admit, I let my temper get the better of me back there. Nearly killed a potentially valuable asset in a moment of anger. Getting old makes a man sloppy."

"Valuable?" Dwayne's voice cracked with disbelief. "Dad, you saw what happened! She warned that old bat, ruined our entire operation! How is she worth anything to us now?"

I set down my glass and studied my disappointment of a son. Sometimes I wondered how someone with my genes could be so fucking dense.

"Think, you moron. Who in this city has the kind of connections to mobilize Victor Kozlov for a rescue mission? Victor doesn't dirty his hands with small-time jobs—he only moves personally for very important people."

I watched comprehension slowly dawn across Dwayne's face. At least he wasn't completely brain-dead.

"The only person who could convince Victor to mount that kind of operation is Orion," I continued. "But here's what makes this interesting—Orion despises that little psychopath. After everything she's done to sabotage his precious girlfriend, he'd sooner watch her die than lift a finger to help her."

"So who convinced him to call in the favor?" Dwayne asked, finally catching up.

"Exactly the right question," I said with satisfaction. "Our dear Aveline still cares about her backstabbing stepsister. Even after all the betrayals, she actually gives a damn what happens to that twisted little bitch."

Dwayne leaned back with that familiar predatory grin spreading across his face—the same expression he'd worn as a child when pulling wings off flies.

"So Vivian might still be useful after all," he said, and I could practically see the gears turning in his perverted little brain.

I reached over and smacked him upside the head hard enough to rattle his teeth.

"Wipe that disgusting smirk off your face, you degenerate. We have more pressing matters than your juvenile rape fantasies. Tomorrow's battle determines everything."

Dwayne rubbed his head, looking properly chastened. "Fine, fine. But you said you had backup plans? What's the real strategy for tomorrow?"

My smile turned genuinely wicked. "Tomorrow's performance is going to be absolutely spectacular. But I'm not telling you the details—every time I trust you with important information, you find a way to fuck it up spectacularly." I leaned forward, letting my disappointment show. "All those months I sent you to study under your Uncle Nikolai's organization in Europe, learning from real professionals, and what do I have to show for it? You're still the same incompetent disappointment you were when you left."

His face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "I learned plenty over there! That's how I made the connection with Dmitri Petrov. Uncle Nikolai personally vouched for me."

"Dmitri," I spat, feeling my good mood sour at the mention of that scarred bastard. "That red-haired mercenary caused more problems than he solved. Next time we hire his crew, we pay full price upfront and specify exactly what we're buying. No more of this 'kidnapping only' professional ethics bullshit."

"How was I supposed to know he'd get all righteous about murder?" Dwayne protested. "The guy's a fucking criminal!"

"He's a businessman who happens to specialize in violence," I corrected. "There's a difference between a professional and a common thug. Learn it."

Dwayne stood up and stretched like some lazy predator. "Speaking of learning experiences, I think I'm done for the day. All this interrogating and threatening has me wound up. I need to find some release."

My eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're not leaving this house. The last thing we need is you starting a bar fight or getting arrested for assault the night before our big day."

"Come on, Dad," he whined like the spoiled child he'd always been. "I'll just hit one of my usual spots, maybe find some willing company for the evening—"

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Fine," he said with that infuriating grin. "Then I'll call a few escorts to come here. High-end girls, very discreet. You're welcome to join if you're interested—might help you relax before tomorrow's festivities."

I hurled my crystal glass at his head, missing him by inches. It exploded against the wall in a shower of expensive fragments and aged whiskey.

"Get out of my sight before I throw something heavier," I growled. "And if you leave this property for any reason tonight, you'll be disinherited by morning."

Dwayne laughed as he headed for the door. "Alright, alright! I'll make some calls. Try not to be such a prude, old man!"

Once his footsteps faded up the marble staircase, I slumped back in my chair and poured myself another drink. *How the hell did I raise such a shallow, impulsive waste of space?*

The boy was nothing like Orion. My nephew possessed every quality that Dwayne would never develop—strategic thinking, genuine courage, the ability to learn from failure. Even as a teenager, Orion had been maddeningly competent.

*Even that mysterious illness six years ago—the one I so carefully orchestrated—he managed to survive and thrive.* The memory still galled me. I'd spent months planning that slow-acting poison, certain it would either kill him or leave him permanently weakened. Instead, the stubborn bastard had somehow fought it off and emerged stronger than ever.

Sometimes I wondered if fate itself was conspiring against me. Despite losing his father to that convenient "disappearance" I'd arranged and his mother to that tragic "accident," Orion thrived like some immortal cockroach. Nothing seemed capable of bringing him down permanently.

But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, I had a weapon that even Orion's legendary resilience couldn't overcome.

I reached for my phone and dialed Charles Ashford's private number.

"Devan," Charles answered on the second ring. "How did your evening's entertainment go?"

"Complete fucking disaster," I admitted without shame. "Tomorrow's success depends entirely on your contribution."

Charles's laughter was rich with satisfaction. "I warned you that your son was useless. Should have let me handle this from the beginning."

"Can you guarantee your plan will work?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Are you seriously questioning me?" Charles's voice practically purred with confidence. "Tomorrow's revelation will be nuclear. When that secret comes to light during a government contract presentation, it'll destroy more than just Orion's career—it'll obliterate his entire future."

I felt my spirits lifting for the first time all evening. "Yes, government contracts require absolute transparency and moral integrity. This will finish him completely."

"Get some rest, old friend," Charles said, and I could hear the anticipation in his voice. "Tomorrow you might be too excited to sleep. This is going to be even more satisfying than we originally planned."