The Womanizer's Mute Wife Chapter 238: All in My Name

Genesis POV

"He’s growing every day, isn’t he?" Alia said softly, wincing just a little as Michelle latched on harder, tiny fists clenched against her chest like he was claiming every drop.

I chuckled quietly and stepped further into the room, Alia’s room now, the one we’d converted into a private nursery suite off the east wing. The incubator was gone; the doctors had cleared Michelle just last week. No more plastic walls, no more tubes snaking everywhere. He was finally strong enough to be held skin-to-skin, to breastfeed, to feel his mother’s heartbeat without barriers.

And God, he was big now, chubby cheeks, dark tufts of hair, eyes already sharp like his father’s. A fighter, Kieran would be completely enamored.

I smiled as I watched her adjust him carefully. Her breasts were heavy, veins visible under the skin, leaking a little even as he fed. She’d been uncomfortable for days before the doctors finally let her nurse him properly.

"Poor things," I teased gently, nodding toward her chest. "They look ready to burst."

Alia laughed "They are. I swear I could feed a small army. But he’s worth every ache."

She winced again as Michelle bit down harder, then sighed in relief when he settled into a steady rhythm. A few minutes later, he slowed, eyes fluttering closed, milk-drunk and content.

Alia carefully lifted him off, wiping her nipple with a soft cloth before tucking her breast back into her nursing bra. She passed him to without hesitation.

"Here. Your turn, Auntie Genesis."

I took him gladly, cradling his warm little body against my shoulder. He slled like milk and baby powder and sothing uniquely his, sweet, new life. I patted his back gently, bouncing him in that slow, steady rhythm until I felt the small burp bubble up.

"There we go," I murmured, kissing the top of his fuzzy head. "Good boy."

Alia leaned back against the pillows, watching us with a small, wistful smile. She reached for a fresh wipe and cleaned herself up properly, then goes off to wash her hands at the sink.

When she turned back, her expression had shifted, gentler, but curious.

"I heard what happened between you and Veronica," she said quietly. "She left?"

I nodded, still patting Michelle’s back even though he was already settled. A small smile tugged at my lips as I bounced him lightly.

"She did."

Alia exhaled slowly. "Don’t get wrong, she deserved it. After everything she’s done to you... the drowning attempt, the photos, the way she’s treated you since the shooting... yeah, she had it coming. But I think she’s really hurting right now."

I sighed, shifting Michelle so I could look down at his peaceful face. His tiny hand curled around my finger.

"I know," I admitted softly. "She loves him. She’s always loved him. Not just as a friend, romantically. She has for years. And I think... part of her still hoped that one day he’d see her the way she sees him. When I shot him, when I almost killed him... it broke sothing in her. She blas , but she also blas herself for not being the one he chose. For not being enough."

Alia was quiet for a mont, watching rock Michelle.

"Do you feel guilty?" she asked gently. "About kicking her out?"

I looked up at her, honest.

"A little," I said. "Not enough to let her stay. She crossed lines that can’t be uncrossed. To be honest, I don’t know what it feels like to love soone who doesn’t love you back the sa way. To watch them choose soone else but I know it hurts. And she’s hurting. I don’t hate her for that part."

Alia nodded slowly. "So what happens now? With her?"

I shrugged one shoulder, careful not to jostle Michelle. "She’s gone. For now though because I know she will be back. I’m not chasing her. I’m not apologizing. If she wants to co back one day, on her knees, truly sorry, no more gas maybe we talk. But until then... this is my ho. Mine and Kieran’s. And I’m done letting people hurt under my own roof."

Alia smiled, looking so proud. "Look at you. The quiet girl who barely spoke is now running the house and handing out slaps like justice."

I laughed softly. "I learned from the best."

Michelle let out a tiny sigh in his sleep, snuggling deeper against my shoulder.

Alia watched us, eyes soft.

"He’s going to be so loved," she whispered. "By all of us."

I pressed my cheek to the top of his head, breathing him in.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "He is."

****

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly as I paced the hallway outside Alia’s room. Michelle was asleep in his crib now, tiny chest rising and falling under the soft blue blanket. Alia had drifted off too, exhausted from feeding and the emotional weight of the last few weeks. The house was quiet now and my phone buzzed again in my pocket.

Philip.

The interim CEO of Blackwood Enterprises and Caldwell Tech.

Again.

I answered on the fourth ring, already tired of this conversation before it started.

"Philip."

"Mrs. Blackwood," he said, voice crisp and professional as always. "Good afternoon. I hope I’m not disturbing you."

"You are," I said flatly, "but go ahead. What is it this ti?"

There was a brief pause probably him swallowing the urge to apologize again. Philip was competent, polite, and clearly terrified of making any decision without my sign-off. He had been put in place of kieran as interim CEO of both companies right after kieran was hospitalized.

It was temporary, Kieran had been running the company himself since the rger, handling the big moves while the day-to-day stayed smooth. But with Kieran now fighting for his life in the hospital, recovering from a bullet in his chest, and Donald officially out of the picture for health reasons, everything about Caldwell tech kept landing on instead of Philip who was the damn CEO.

"I just needed your approval on a few items," Philip began. "The quarterly dividend distribution is ready to process. Also, the board is recomnding a 12% increase in the employee wellness budget, ntal health days, gym subsidies, that sort of thing. And the final vendor contract for the new data center needs your signature. I can send the link if...."

"Philip," I cut in, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You’ve asked versions of this every day for two weeks. I told you last ti: you have blanket authority on operational decisions. The dividend, wellness budget, and vendor contract? Approve them. All of them."

He cleared his throat. "Understood, ma’am. There’s... one more thing."

I waited.

"It’s regarding your monthly salary disbursent," he said carefully. "The payroll system flagged that we haven’t received updated instructions from you since Mr. Blackwood went on dical leave. I just wanted to confirm the amount and bank details before we process this month’s paynt."

I blinked. "My... what?"

"Your salary, ma’am. As majority shareholder and executive chair of Caldwell Tech. The company has been depositing it monthly into your personal account, the one ending in 4782. Sa as always."

My mouth went dry.

"Wait. Back up. Salary? I don’t... I never set up a salary."

Philip sounded genuinely confused now. "It’s been active since the rger, ma’am. Mr. Blackwood instructed our finance team to set it at a fixed executive rate when Caldwell Tech was brought under Blackwood Enterprises. It’s been paid consistently every 25th of the month. I assud you were aware."

I leaned against the wall, suddenly lightheaded.

"How much?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Philip hesitated. "The current gross monthly salary is $325,000. After federal and state taxes, Social Security, dicare, and the 401(k) contribution you elected, it nets to approximately $210,000 per month deposited directly into your personal account. Would you like to adjust the amount? Increase it, perhaps, given the company’s performance this quarter?"

I couldn’t speak.

$210,000. Every month.

For doing... nothing?

"Mrs. Blackwood?" Philip prompted gently. "Are you still there?"

I swallowed hard. "How... how much has the company made? This quarter."

Philip’s voice brightened, he clearly loved this part.

"Caldwell Tech has had an exceptional quarter, ma’am. Revenue is up 287% year-over-year. Net profit after expenses is $98.7 million. Blackwood Enterprises’ capital injection and infrastructure support allowed us to secure three major contracts, telecom infrastructure upgrades in the Midwest, digital paynt systems for two state governnts, and the Los Angeles smart-city pilot. We’re projecting $415 million in annual revenue by end of fiscal year if current trends hold."

I stared at the wall like it had personally betrayed .

$98.7 million. In three months.

My father’s dying company, the one Monica and her sons had nearly run into the ground was suddenly worth hundreds of millions under my na.

And I had no idea.

"Mrs. Blackwood?" Philip asked again, concern creeping in. "Is everything all right?"

"I..." My voice cracked. "I’ll call you back."

I ended the call before he could respond.

My hands were shaking.

I opened my banking app. the one I barely used, the one Kieran had set up for when we married. I’d always thought it was just for household stuff, small allowances, things like that. I’d never looked past the first few screens.

I typed in my password.

It was just my na.

Genesis.

The app opened.

And the balance stared back at .

$1,428,000,000

One billion four hundred twenty-eight million dollars.

I blinked.

Refreshed the screen.

Sa number.

The recent transactions scrolled up: monthly salary deposits of $210,000 net. Investnt returns. Dividend payouts from Caldwell Tech shares. Blackwood Enterprises profit shares routed through the rged entity.

All in my na.

All untouched.

I sank down against the wall, knees to my chest, phone trembling in my hands.

I had no idea.

No idea my father’s legacy, the company I’d fought to take back from Monica and her sons had beco this.

No idea Kieran had quietly turned it into sothing massive while I was busy surviving.

No idea I was... rich.

Beyond rich.

The kind of money that could buy silence, safety, revenge, freedom, anything.

And I’d been walking around thinking I was just... surviving.

I pressed my forehead to my knees and let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh.

Then I whispered to the empty hallway, to no one and everyone:

"What the fuck, Kieran."

My phone buzzed again, Philip, probably worried.

I ignored it.

I just sat there, staring at the number on the screen, feeling the weight of it settle into my bones.

One billion four hundred twenty-eight million dollars.

And I hadn’t even known it existed.

Until now.