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381: Chris is a Brown
Chapter 381: Chris is a Brown The morning sun cast a golden hue over the city skyline, but within the Brown family's towering headquarters, a storm was brewing. The previous night's revelations at Greenstone Cemetery had left Chris and Stephany reeling, but there was no time to dwell on the past. The Browns were making their move. News outlets buzzed with headlines: "The Prodigal Son Returns: Chris Brown Rejoins the Brown Empire." Social media platforms were flooded with posts celebrating Chris's "homecoming." The narrative was clear: Chris had been groomed from a young age to take the helm of the Brown conglomerate, and his recent successes were a testament to his family's legacy. At the center of this media frenzy was Grandfather Brown, the patriarch of the family. A shrewd businessman, he saw in Chris not just a grandson but a valuable asset to solidify the family's dominance in the corporate world. He orchestrated a grand charity gala in Chris's honor, aiming t
380; The Final Consummation
Chapter 380: The Final ConsummationThe cemetery lay behind them, shrouded in fog and secrets, but Stephany’s grip on Chris’s hand didn’t loosen.Not even when they returned to the car.Not even when he remained silent the whole drive back to the penthouse, eyes fixed on the road, jaw tight, hands steady, but not relaxed.Stephany didn’t push him to speak.She didn’t need to.She had felt the shift. Not just in him… but in herself.And when the elevator opened to the quiet luxury of the penthouse, with its clean lines and soft city glow bleeding through the massive windows, she knew—Tonight, something had changed forever.Chris didn’t stop at the living room.He walked straight to the window wall, loosened his coat, and stood there. Watching. Thinking.Processing.Stephany followed slowly.“You okay?” she asked gently, setting her bag down.His back rose and fell with a breath. “I’ve waited so long to know what really happened. For proof.”“And now that you have it?”Another pause.C
376; The Forgotten Graves
Chapter 377: The Forgotten Graves The message didn’t come with a number. No name. Just that eerie line: “Meet me at the cemetery. We need to talk about your husband’s parents.” Stephany stared at it long after Chris handed the phone back. A quiet fog crept into her chest, the kind that smelled of old secrets and unmarked tombstones. Chris didn’t blink. “Which cemetery?” She hesitated. “Greenstone. The old family plot, west end of the city.” His face hardened instantly. “That’s where my parents were buried.” Silence settled between them. Stephany adjusted her seatbelt and whispered, “Let’s go.”“Are you sure? It might be dangerous.” He said.“Yes Chris, wherever you’re going, I’ll go with you., and I’m sure you will protect me no matter what hat.” Stephnay reassure me him and the two of them did not drive home immediately. At Greenstone Cemetery It was nearly sundown when the gates creaked open. The sky was painted in streaks of gold and ash. Crows lined
378; The Gift Intrusion
Chapter 378: The Gifted Intrusion The early evening light spilled into the Preston company, golden and soft, catching on the crystal vase of fresh orchids Stephany had arranged earlier. She sat on the long cream sofa, flipping through a catalog of recent Preston interior projects—trying to distract herself as she waited for Chris. They’d been spending more time together lately—really talking, not just coexisting. And tonight, Chris had promised to pick her up. Until the doorbell rang. Expecting maybe a delivery or Chris may have come, although they just finished texting, he must be eager to go home she thought and smiled to herself as she opened the door. But it wasn’t a delivery.And neither was it Chris at the door. It was Rider Cornel. Tall. Impeccably dressed in a deep gray Italian suit, a bouquet of royal lilies in one hand and a sleek black gift box in the other. His smile was practiced but boyishly warm. “Steph,” he said with a small bow of his head, “I hope
377; Sinclair’s first Attempt
Chapter 377: Sinclair’s first Attempt The Sterling skyline gleamed under a silver dusk, but inside the boutique-lined avenue of Fifth Row, all that shimmered wasn't gold it was desperation. Chris Brown stepped out of his black BMW, tailored in a sleek navy suit, his cufflinks catching the store’s chandelier lighting as he entered Vermillion Jewelers, one of the most exclusive jewelry houses in the country. Sinclair Pete had called earlier, her voice smooth, calculated, with the perfect tinge of casual concern. “Chris, I need a favor. I’m trying to appraise something rare for the foundation auction. You have the best eye for investment pieces. Could you come by?” Out of respect for their past distant when he used to work for her as an appraiser, he agreed to branch there before he goes back home as it’s both on the same way. What he didn’t know was that Sinclair had set the stage with precision. Inside the private lounge of the boutique, she stood waiting in a figure-h
376; Georgina stripped exposed and arrested .
Chapter 376; Georgina stripped exposed and arrested Afterwards, Chris went straight to Brown Holdings while his wife remained to handle some work at Preston. Chris had invited the guard, and was having a meeting, now that he had claimed his shares and was among the majority share holders. Chris was telling them about the new reform he had. The boardroom was dead silent, save for the steady ticking of the vintage brass clock mounted on the wall. It was an oppressive kind of silence, the kind that warned something monumental was about to happen. Georgina Sinclair Brown stormed in like she owned the place shoulders high, chin lifted, draped in a designer charcoal blazer that screamed power. For years, she had ruled MTD Entertainment with an iron fist. She had made kings and queens of celebrities and crushed empires in silence. But today, her kingdom was trembling beneath her heels. “Where is he?” she demanded, her voice like broken glass. “Get me the president. Now.”
375; Georgina and Charles
Chapter 375: Georgina and Charles The pendant Nanny Grace left him still sat in his palm, warm as though it pulsed with memory. Chris stared at it for a long time after the lawyer left, the world outside growing dim with dusk. Stephany remained quiet beside him, not pushing, not asking. Just… watching. Until the doorbell rang again. Chris stood and opened the door himself. A hotel bellhop stood there with a package—no return address, just a small black envelope sealed with red wax. Chris accepted it. No words. Just instinct. Because something about the weight of that envelope felt familiar. Wrong. Heavy with the kind of truth you don’t ask for. He sat back down, broke the seal, and unfolded the letter inside. A photo dropped out. Then another. Then a burned corner of an accident report… Stephany leaned forward, confused. “What is it?” she asked. But Chris had gone still. A shadow passed through his eyes. The first photo was of his parents young, smiling,
374; Nanny Grace Will
Chapter 374: Nanny Grace’s WillThat night, Chris slept peacefully as he recalled the look on the faces of his family when he introduced them to his wife. The sky over Manhattan had just begun to blush with evening gold when the letter arrived. Chris stood at the balcony of the penthouse, sipping black coffee, watching the city shift beneath him. Behind him, Stephany was reading quietly on the couch, wrapped in a soft robe, her legs curled beneath her. It was the first time they’d had peace since the gala. Since the world turned upside down. Then the doorbell rang. Chris opened it himself. It was a courier from a discreet legal firm in New Jersey, holding a sealed brown envelope. “For Mr. Christopher Brown. Urgent delivery from the estate of Grace Alcott.” Chris’s brows furrowed. He took the envelope, nodded, and closed the door without a word. “Who is it?” Stephany asked, sitting up. “My grandmother,” Chris replied, walking over with the letter in hand. “Nanny Gr
373; The Return To The Browns
Chapter 373: The Return to the Browns The morning sunlight crept into the penthouse, golden and warm, but Stephany was already awake wrapped in one of Chris’s oversized shirts, seated on the balcony with a cup of his strongest coffee. She had made her decision. When Chris stepped out of the bedroom, she looked up at him, her voice steady. “I want to meet them.” Chris tilted his head. “Meet who?” “Your family,” she said. “The Browns.” Chris stilled, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.” “I’m not proving anything,” she said quietly. “I’m your wife. I’ve seen the worst of you, the best of you, and the truth you tried to hide. If I’m going to stand beside you now… I want to do it with both feet in.” Chris stared at her for a long time, then gave a slow nod. “Alright. You’ll meet them tomorrow.” He didn’t say more. But deep down, a storm brewed beneath his calm. It was time. The next afternoon, a sleek convoy of matte black sedans rolled throu
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