How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 115: Young...

The fluorescent lights in the federal office buzzed faintly overhead, casting a harsh white sheen over the steel table that separated Ava Reed from the two agents across from her.

The air was biting cold and felt sterile, reminding her that she was deep inside a place where the truth could be used as a weapon.

The fluorescent lights in the federal office buzzed faintly overhead, casting a harsh white sheen over the steel table that separated Ava Reed from the two agents across from her.

She didn’t flinch.

Her hands, neatly folded in front of her, showed no tremor. Her posture, perfect. Her pulse, calm. But inside, her mind was moving like a loaded gun clicking through timelines, alliances, paper trails, and ghosts.

The silence had stretched for too long. Minutes passed like hours. The older of the two agents, a woman with shrewd eyes and a too-crisp bob, watched Ava with a stillness that was almost predatory.

The younger man beside her occasionally shifted, flipping through a folder, but never spoke.

Finally, the woman leaned forward.

"Ms. Reed," she began in a low voice, "Did you know Detective Alex Ramos is a Moretti? A double agent?"

Ava tilted her head slightly, as if digesting the question. She blinked. "He’s my fiancé," she said evenly. "I know him as a cop."

The woman gave a tight, unreadable smile. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"It’s a fact," Ava replied. "If you have reason to question his work, perhaps ask his department."

The man finally chimed in, tapping on a photo paper-clipped to the file. "We did."

He slid the image across the table. Ava glanced down, keeping her expression neutral.

In the photo, Alex was talking with two men in leather jackets. One of them was Carmine Moretti, Matteo’s enforcer. The timestamp was two weeks ago.

Rooftop. Dusk. Manhattan skyline in the background.

They had been careful... Clearly not careful enough.

"Looks like a friendly conversation," the woman said. "Your fiancé, chatting with the very syndicate we’re tracking."

Ava’s gaze didn’t move. "He’s an officer. Conversations happen."

Another photo followed.

Alex, leaning over a table with documents. A warehouse floor. Two known Moretti lieutenants. And a case full of money.

Ava kept her tone calm, but it came out taut.

"I’m sure there’s context you’re not offering."

"And I’m sure your hospital’s offshore accounts aren’t about philanthropy either," the man said, folding his hands.

"Want to talk about your board’s recent investments in shell companies routed through Cyprus? Or maybe the private donation funnelled from an unexisting shipping group?"

She blinked once.

Isabella’s fingerprints. All over it.

Her voice remained measured. "Our hospital accepts dozens of donations annually. I don’t personally vet them."

"Should’ve," the woman murmured, snapping the folder shut.

"We’re not accusing you, Ms. Reed. Not yet. But if you are laundering money, knowingly or otherwise, you’ll be going down."

Ava met her eyes, steel behind green. "Then charge me. Or let me go."

The woman smiled again, this time with a thin satisfaction. "You’re free to leave. For now."

—

Outside the building, the sky was overcast. A biting wind whipped down the steps of the federal courthouse as Ava descended them. Her phone buzzed again, another missed call from Selena.

But she wasn’t ready to speak to anyone. Not yet.

Twenty minutes later, she stood in the hallway outside the courtroom, waiting for her number to be called. Marble walls echoed with the rustle of papers, the murmur of lawyers, the quiet indignation of men in tailored suits being led in cuffs.

When it was her turn, she walked into the courtroom with the composure of someone born to carry weight. The judge barely looked up as the clerk read the details.

"Alex Ramos. Bail hearing. Request submitted by Ava Reed."

Ava stood. "I’m prepared to offer five million in liquid assets, in addition to the deed to my Sutton Place property, if it means..."

The judge cut her off. "Denied."

Ava blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Ramos is considered a national security risk due to his dual involvement in law enforcement and organised crime. Bail is denied under federal code 3142(e)."

"You can’t..."

"I just did, Ms. Reed."

The gavel slammed down.

She stepped out of the courthouse, fists tightly clenched, the judge’s words ringing in her head. The sound of her shoes clicking against the concrete filled the air as she reached her car, unlocked the door, and climbed inside.

For a long moment, she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, breathing through the rage swelling in her chest.

They had Alex. They had the forged documents.

And now, they were watching her.

Tightly, deliberately, she pressed the start button, her jaw set as the engine hummed to life.

---

The lights in the Reed estate had dimmed to a hush. Upstairs, Pearl was asleep, her stuffed rabbit cradled under one arm, her breathing soft and even.

Downstairs, Ava sat alone in the study, her legs curled beneath her on the wide leather armchair. A glass of whiskey rested in her hand, amber and still. The fire crackled low in the hearth, reflecting gold over the photo frame in her lap.

It was a picture of her and Alex, one Pearl had taken weeks ago, during a quiet Sunday at the park. Ava’s smile in the photo was real, unguarded, radiant.

Alex had his arm around her shoulders, grinning like the world didn’t have claws. It was before secrets cracked open. Before betrayal blurred the lines between loyalty and survival. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Ava tilted the frame back, her thumb brushing over the edge. The whiskey slid down her throat like fire, but it didn’t burn enough to dull the ache that had taken root behind her ribs.

He was still inside. Bruised. Shackled.

And she was here. Alone. Again.

Her phone buzzed against the oak desk, dragging her from memory. She reached for it, half-hoping it was a miracle she hadn’t earned. It wasn’t. It was Selena.

Ava swiped to answer.

"They’ve started circulating the documents," Selena said without greeting. Her voice was clipped, laced with tension.

"The forged ledgers are hitting every major financial oversight office in the state. Federal task force is coordinating with Internal Affairs."

Ava stood slowly, pressing a hand to her temple.

"Which means they’re building a case."

"Fast," Selena confirmed. "They’re starting with the hospital’s donations, foundation ties, and suspicious vendors. Your name’s on half the paper."

"They’re using Pearl’s legacy as leverage," Ava murmured. "They want to bury me in the name of justice."

"And they’re coming at the heart," Selena added.

Ava turned toward the window, staring out at the garden where she’d once taught Pearl how to plant lavender. Her voice was low.

"We need Alex out."

"Bail’s still denied," Selena reminded her. "They’re treating him like a terrorist asset now. They won’t budge."

Ava’s voice dropped into a whisper. "Then we stop asking."

There was silence on the other end. Then a knock on the study door.

Selena stepped in, phone still in hand, her expression unreadable.

"What?" Ava asked, brow raised.

Selena crossed the room slowly and turned her phone around, screen glowing with an active audio feed.

"There’s a call coming through on the open syndicate channel.

Ava’s stomach tensed. Open channel. That line was reserved for emergencies, high-level, untraceable. Dangerous.

"Who?" she asked.

Selena hesitated.

"It’s him," she said. "Matteo Moretti. He wants to speak to the Godmother."

Her phone buzzed against the oak desk, dragging her from memory. She reached for it, half-hoping it was a miracle she hadn’t earned. It wasn’t. It was Selena.

Ava swiped to answer.

"They’ve started circulating the documents," Selena said without greeting. Her voice was clipped, laced with tension.

"The forged ledgers are hitting every major financial oversight office in the state. Federal task force is coordinating with Internal Affairs."

Ava stood slowly, pressing a hand to her temple.

"Which means they’re building a case."

"Fast," Selena confirmed. "They’re starting with the hospital’s donations, foundation ties, and suspicious vendors. Your name’s on half the paper."

"They’re using Pearl’s legacy as leverage," Ava murmured. "They want to bury me in the name of justice."

"And they’re coming at the heart," Selena added.

Ava turned toward the window, staring out at the garden where she’d once taught Pearl how to plant lavender. Her voice was low.

"We need Alex out."

"Bail’s still denied," Selena reminded her. "They’re treating him like a terrorist asset now. They won’t budge."

Ava’s voice dropped into a whisper. "Then we stop asking."

There was silence on the other end. Then a knock on the study door.

Selena stepped in, phone still in hand, her expression unreadable.

"What?" Ava asked, brow raised.

Selena crossed the room slowly and turned her phone around, screen glowing with an active audio feed.

"There’s a call coming through on the open syndicate channel.

Ava’s stomach tensed. Open channel. That line was reserved for emergencies, high-level, untraceable. Dangerous.

"Who?" she asked.

Selena hesitated.

"It’s him," she said. "Matteo Moretti. He wants to speak to the Godmother."