The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me-Chapter 250: Working Together

The moment I stepped through the front door, I barely had time to close it behind me before Val was already there.

"You're back," she said, grabbing my wrist. Not rough—urgent. Focused. "Come look at this."

I blinked. "Uh… okay?"

She didn't wait for another word. Just turned and headed straight for the stairs. I followed, briefcase still in my hand, my jacket half undone.

Her office light was already on when she walked in. Laptop open. Papers spread neatly across her desk. Too neatly. That alone told me she'd been at this for a while.

She pointed at the screen. "I found files tied to a company called FreeGain Investment Enterprise."

My steps slowed. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Of course she did.

I kept my face neutral as I leaned closer. "FreeGain?"

She nodded. "It kept coming up in older internal records. Not big transfers—small ones. Spread out. Easy to ignore." She looked up at me. "But they don't make sense."

I exhaled quietly. "They don't exist."

Her brows pulled together. "What?"

I set my briefcase down and opened it, pulling out the folder Trent and I had gone through earlier. I flipped it open and slid one document toward her.

"This," I said. "FreeGain only exists on paper."

She stared at the page. I watched the moment it hit her—the stillness, the way her fingers froze against the desk.

"How…" Her voice dropped. "How did you get this?"

I sat back in the chair opposite her desk and rubbed a hand over my face. "Your dad and I talked this morning."

Her head snapped up. "Wait. My dad? As in—"

"Charlie George Moreau," I said. "Yes. That one."

She sank into the chair beside me slowly, like her body needed a second to catch up. Her eyes searched my face, sharp and disbelieving.

"You talked to him," she repeated.

"We did more than talk." I tapped the briefcase lightly. "He sent those."

Her lips parted slightly. "You're saying my dad actually wants to work with you to solve this?"

"I'm saying we called a truce," I corrected. "Temporary. Strictly business. Until this is over."

She leaned back, processing. Then a quiet, almost breathless sound escaped her.

> "Wow."

There it was. Not excitement exactly—but something close. Hope, maybe. Or relief. She'd wanted this longer than she ever admitted.

I watched her eyes drift back to the files. "FreeGain is the funnel," I said. "Money moves through it into Vanguard Ark Investments. That's how Otavio funded the share acquisition without setting off alarms."

She scanned the pages again. "And this signature…"

"Engr. Julio Santos," I said. "That's the part you didn't have."

Her jaw tightened. "So he's the ghost."

"Looks like it."

She went quiet, thinking. Then she glanced at me sideways. "Wow, you actually figured this out alone."

I huffed softly. "Not exactly, I had help."

She studied my face for a second, thinking. Then her eyes shifted slightly, like something clicked.

"Trent."

"Trent," I confirmed. "I just came from his place. He's officially on our side."

"Of course he is" she added with a nod.

We sat there for a moment, the weight of it settling between us—not just the problem, but the fact that we were finally sharing everything instead of circling it.

"I should've told you sooner," I said.

She shook her head. "You were trying to protect me."

"Still am."

She reached for my hand, squeezing it once. "I know."

I stood after a moment, rolling my shoulders. "I'm gonna take a shower."

She smiled faintly. "You smell like stress and paper."

"Occupational hazard."

I turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Oh—by the way."

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"Trent's proposing next week."

Her eyes widened. "To Marina?"

"Who else."

She broke into a grin, genuine this time. "About time."

I smiled back. "Thought you'd say that."

"Go bathe," she said, waving me off. "So we can eat."

"Yes, ma'am."

I left her there, surrounded by files and determination, and headed upstairs. As the water hit my skin minutes later, my thoughts kept circling—FreeGain, Julio Santos, Otavio… and the fact that for the first time, Charlie George Moreau and I were on the same side.

Maybe that mattered.

Or maybe it didn't.

Either way, we were already too deep to turn back now.

---

Dinner was quick.

Not rushed in a bad way—just efficient. The kind where both of us were present, eating, but our minds were still sifting through numbers, names, signatures. Aline had already cleaned up by the time we finished, and Duchess had claimed her usual spot near the hallway, watching us like she was supervising the night.

We didn't talk much on the way upstairs. We didn't need to.

Back in our room, Val dropped the briefcase on the bed and flipped it open. Papers followed—some spread neatly, others overlapping where space ran out. Our bed looked less like somewhere to sleep and more like a temporary war table.

We went through the papers for nearly two hours.

Slowly. Carefully. Page after page spread across the bed, cross-checking dates, tracing signatures, circling names that kept reappearing. Every time we thought we'd found a solid lead on Julio Santos, it slipped just out of reach—another shell reference, another redirected transaction, another cleanly buried trail.

Val leaned closer at some point, knees tucked under her, flipping through a second stack while I handled the originals from the briefcase. Neither of us spoke much. We didn't need to. The weight of it sat between us, heavy and unspoken.

Eventually, I rolled my shoulders back and stretched, a yawn slipping out before I could stop it.

She leaned against the headboard, skimming through one of the documents again, brows drawn together in focus. I sat at the edge of the bed, exhaling slowly.

"I should probably tell your dad about our progress," I said.

She looked up at me, then smiled—slow, thoughtful.

> "It still sounds strange hearing you say you want to call my dad. To talk."

I smirked. "Trust me. Still strange on my end too."

She glanced back down at the papers, then spoke again, more to herself than to me.

"Strange but…" She paused, lips curving upward. "...nice. I didn't think I'd ever hear that."

I picked up my phone and dialed the number before I could overthink it.

As it rang, Val shifted closer, tucking her legs under herself and leaning toward me.

"Put it on speaker," she said quietly, eyes bright with curiosity and something close to excitement.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, deadpan.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

The call connected on the fourth ring.

"Any update?" Charlie's voice came through, direct as always.

"Yes, sir," I said. "We found something."

Val's hand stilled on the paper she'd been holding.

I kept my voice steady, sticking to the essentials. "There's a shell company—FreeGain Investment Enterprise. It doesn't exist beyond paperwork. No operational footprint, no legitimate registration trail."

Silence on the other end. Not the dismissive kind. The listening kind.

I continued. "Funds were moved in small increments. Nothing that would immediately raise red flags, but consistent enough to build capital over time. Those transfers line up with when Otavio began acquiring shares."

"And the source?" Charlie asked.

"That's where it gets interesting," I said. "The signatures tie back to an engineer—Julio Santos. He's been connected to past Urban Development Council projects. Older ones. Five years back."

Val inhaled sharply beside me.

Charlie exhaled slowly. "So Otavio didn't just buy influence. He hid behind it."

"Yes, sir."

Another pause. Then, "How certain are you?"

"Certain enough to start digging deeper," I said. "But not from inside Moreau Dynamics. If Otavio has people planted, any internal move risks tipping him off."

A low hum of agreement came through the speaker. "You're right."

Val's eyes flicked to mine.

"I know how to reach Santos," Charlie said after a moment. "Or rather, I know who can. I'll send someone to get the address."

"That would help," I replied. "A lot."

"You did good work," Charlie said. Then, after a beat, "Thank you, Kai."

I blinked.

"When this is over," he added, "let's grab a drink. I'm buying."

I glanced at Val just in time to see her eyes widen.

"Of course, sir," I said. "I'll wait for your message."

The line went dead.

For exactly two seconds, the room was silent.

Then Val squealed.

Actually squealed.

She clapped her hands once and bounced slightly where she sat. "Did you hear that?" she said, mimicking her father's tone almost perfectly. "When this is over, let's grab a drink. I'm buying."

I laughed under my breath. "Careful. At this rate, he might start tolerating me."

She grinned at me, full and bright. "Don't push your luck."

She stared at me for a second longer, then softened.

> "Thank you."

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Back to work."

"Yes, sir," she replied, saluting lazily before reaching for another file.

We went back to the papers, shoulders brushing, the bed still covered in documents and possibilities.

And for the first time since this mess began, it didn't feel like we were reacting anymore.

It felt like we were moving.

---

To be continued...