The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 219

Orion

Once Ryan and Mitchell had carefully arranged all the presents in the living room—apparently there was a specific feng shui for gift-giving that only five-year-olds understood—I retreated to my bedroom to process the day's events.

I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to wrap my mind around everything that had happened. We'd won the biggest contract in the company's history. I'd destroyed my uncle's coup attempt in the most public way possible. And most importantly, I could finally claim Aveline as my wife without deception or pretense.

I poured myself three fingers of whiskey, then four, trying to calm the adrenaline that was still coursing through my system. But despite the alcohol, I couldn't stop smiling. Every time I thought about the look on Charles's face when Walsh produced that marriage document, I felt like I might actually start laughing out loud.

I was just reaching for my phone to text Aveline—something romantic about how this was the best day of my life—when Mitchell appeared in my doorway.

"Sir, Mr. Walsh is here to see you. He says it's regarding the matter you discussed this morning."

Right. Aveline's biological parents. With everything else that had happened today, I'd almost forgotten about that particular investigation.

"Send him to my study. I'll be right there."

Ten minutes later, Walsh was already seated in one of the leather chairs when I entered, looking far more relaxed than he had during his courtroom performance earlier.

"Orion," he said with obvious amusement, "I have to say, I've never seen someone look quite so satisfied after a business meeting. You're practically glowing."

I tried to school my expression into something more professional. "Well, it's not every day you secure a multi-billion dollar government contract."

"Uh-huh." His smile was knowing. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with finally being able to acknowledge your wife publicly."

I gave up the pretense and settled into the chair across from him. "Fine. Yes, today was a good day on multiple fronts. Now, please tell me you have good news about Aveline's family situation."

Walsh opened his briefcase and withdrew a thick folder. "I can't promise it's good news, but it's definitely significant news. After months of following paper trails and international records, I've identified her biological parents."

He paused, and I could see him choosing his words carefully.

"The situation is... promising but uncertain. We've identified a couple who could very well be Aveline's birth parents—Vincent and Isabella Beaumont. They're French nationals with their primary residence in Monaco. Vincent is the CEO and majority owner of Beaumont Holdings, which controls luxury hotel chains, high-end real estate developments, and several prestigious vineyards throughout Europe."

I leaned forward, intrigued. "That sounds like a solid lead. What's the catch?"

"The catch is that we can't definitively confirm the connection from here," Walsh said, opening his folder. "People at that level of wealth and social prominence have layers of privacy protection that make thorough verification nearly impossible. We have strong circumstantial evidence—timeline matches, geographical connections, even some physical resemblance—but no concrete proof."

Walsh handed me a photograph. It showed an elegant couple in their fifties at what appeared to be some kind of charity gala. The woman had dark hair and striking features that bore a notable similarity to Aveline's.

"The resemblance is intriguing," I murmured, "but not conclusive."

"Exactly. And here's why we need you personally involved—our remote investigations can only go so far. We need someone with your resources and social standing to approach them directly, to ask the right questions, to observe their reactions. This kind of delicate inquiry requires a personal touch."

"What are you recommending?"

Walsh looked at me directly. "I think you and Aveline need to go to Monaco. Meet them in person, gauge their response, see if there's genuine recognition. Only through direct contact can we determine if this is truly a reunion or just a promising dead end."

I sat back, processing the implications. A trip to Monaco based on what might be nothing more than an educated guess. Potentially confronting two strangers with the most personal question imaginable.

"How confident are you in this lead?"

"Confident enough to recommend the trip, not confident enough to guarantee results," Walsh replied honestly. "But Orion, if they are her parents, this is the only way we'll ever know for certain."

I sat back, processing the implications. A trip to Monaco. Confronting two powerful strangers who might be overjoyed or devastated to learn their daughter was alive. Potentially uncovering family secrets that had been buried for twenty-five years.

"How soon can we leave?"

"That depends on how quickly you want answers," Walsh replied. "I can have everything arranged within a week—private jet, accommodations, meetings with the right people. But Orion..." He paused, his expression serious. "Once you start down this path, there's no going back. Whatever you discover about Aveline's origins will change her life forever."

I thought about Aveline's face in the car tonight—that mixture of curiosity and terror when I'd mentioned finding her parents. She was scared of what we might discover, but she deserved to know the truth.

"Set it up," I said. "Looks like we'll be taking a European honeymoon before we even have our wedding."

Walsh smiled and began packing up his materials. "Monaco in the spring. Could be worse places for a romantic getaway."

As he left, I remained in my study, staring at the photograph of Vincent and Isabella Beaumont. Soon, very soon, Aveline would learn the truth about where she came from.

I just hoped we were both ready for whatever that truth might be.