CHAPTER 55: SHE’S AWAKE

Morning Light

Sophia stirred beneath the covers, eyes still closed, her palm brushing against something unexpectedly smooth and warm.

Half-asleep, she gave it a playful slap. "Mmm, my little angel, your skin feels so soft—Mommy’s jealous."

Her words hung lazily in the air... until she sensed a sharp, burning stare aimed straight at her.

Sophia squinted, the blurred figure before her making her blink again.

"Oh no," she muttered groggily. "I must be losing it—I could’ve sworn I just saw Lucas. I really need more sleep..."

A deep, low voice rolled beside her. "So, seeing me disappoints you that much?"

Her eyes flew open. "Lucas?! What the hell—why are you in my bed? Where are my kids?!"

He raised a brow, that calm, infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"You might want to check your surroundings, Mrs. Hilton. This is my room. Last night, someone decided to sneak in, throw herself into my arms, and insist we sleep together. Now, at dawn, that same someone seems very... interested in my body."

Lucas tilted his head, voice dripping with amusement. "So tell me—was it to your satisfaction?"

Sophia froze, withdrawing her hand from where it had landed—on his very solid backside.

Then, with the poise of a woman who refused to lose dignity, she exhaled and stood up.

"Ah," she sighed dramatically, "my sleepwalking’s getting worse."

She "sleepwalked" her way through washing up, dressing, and heading downstairs as if nothing had happened.

"Mommy! You’re so shy—you woke up late!" Angela giggled from the table.

Sophia rolled her eyes and poured herself coffee. "Mommy had a long night, sweetheart."

"Where’s Daddy?" one of the boys piped up.

"Sleepwalking," she replied coolly.

Mrs. Wilson blinked in confusion. "Sleepwalking? Is Mr. Hilton all right?"

"He’s fine," Sophia said breezily. "He’ll be down in a minute."

And right on cue, Lucas appeared, as composed as ever.

"Sir," Mrs. Wilson said, "Your parents called earlier. They said today’s matter is yours alone to handle—they won’t intervene."

"I expected as much," Lucas replied, his tone calm but his eyes unreadable.

Sophia lifted a brow. "The will?"

He nodded once. "Yes."

"Do you need me there?"

"No."

So cold, she thought. So calculating.

She shrugged and finished her porridge just as her phone buzzed.

"Hello?... Yes. Okay, I’ll be right there."

Her face turned serious.

"Where to?" Lucas asked.

"The hospital. The old woman and the driver from yesterday’s crash— they’re awake. The hospital wants me to come in."

He studied her quietly. "I’ll drive."

"If you insist."

They left together, neither noticing the six little conspirators exchanging glances behind them.

As soon as the car disappeared down the drive, Eric leaned toward Angela.

"Nanny Wilson, we’re kinda tired. Can we go nap for a bit?"

Mrs. Wilson adored them too much to resist. "Of course, darlings. One more hour, and I’ll wake you, all right?"

"Okay!" they chorused innocently before scampering upstairs.

Once the door closed, the masks dropped.

"Billy, systems ready?"

"All set."

"Angela, countdown in three."

The six of them stood by the wide window, ropes secured around their waists.

"Three... two... one!"

And just like that, six tiny figures jumped out the window in perfect coordination.

For a few brief seconds, every security camera at Blackstone Manor went dark. Then—static cleared. Back online.

"Angela, Billy," Dustin whispered, voice tense, "what if we’re too late? What if Charles can’t handle them alone?"

Charles—sweet-toothed, quiet, but surprisingly lethal when pushed—wasn’t one to underestimate.

"Relax," Angela said, tightening her ponytail. "Backup’s already on the way. But we’ve got to move fast before Nanny Wilson figures out we’re gone."

Billy checked his watch, tone crisp. "We’ve got twenty-eight minutes total, including travel time."

Right on schedule, a sleek black SUV screeched to a stop in front of them.

The six kids climbed in, faces set with determination.

—The Hospital

When Sophia entered the hospital room, the elderly woman from the crash was awake, though her face was still pale as paper.

"This is the lady who brought you in yesterday," the nurse said gently.

The old woman’s lips moved faintly beneath the oxygen mask that had been strapped to her face for hours. Her age had made breathing on her own difficult, so the staff dared not remove it.

"Ma’am, please don’t strain yourself," Sophia said softly. "You can tell us everything once you feel better."

If not for this woman’s car taking the hit meant for hers, it would have been Sophia and her six children in that wreck. The guilt lingered heavily on her chest.

The old woman, summoning what strength she had, slowly lifted the oxygen mask away.

"T-thank... you," she rasped, each syllable trembling.

Her voice was frail, but her bearing—refined, composed—betrayed an upbringing of privilege. She wasn’t just anyone’s grandmother.

Yet strangely, no family had come to claim her.

A Rolls-Royce, a private chauffeur... and still, she lay here alone.

"Ma’am," Sophia asked carefully, "where are your family members?"

"I... I came from City Y," she managed, her voice faint. "Could you... call this number for me?"

She handed Sophia a card. Even her diction—measured and polite—spoke of old money and good breeding.

Sophia nodded and stepped out to make the call. When she returned, she smiled reassuringly.

"They said they saw the news. They’re already on their way."

The old woman——Judy Clark, exhaled shakily.

"My driver... what about Tom?"

"You were lucky, ma’am," Sophia said gently. "He’s still in the ICU but out of immediate danger."

Judy’s head barely moved, but her dry lips cracked with effort. Sophia dipped a cloth in water and gently moistened them.

Moments later, chaos burst through the door.

"Grandma!"

A young man—early twenties—rushed in first, his voice loud and theatrical. Behind him came several middle-aged men and women, all wailing as if competing for sympathy.

Judy’s pulse spiked on the monitor, her breathing ragged.

Sophia frowned. So much noise... and yet not one of them looks genuinely worried.

The young man threw himself over Judy’s bed, sobbing dramatically.

"Grandma! Don’t die on me!"

Her pupils contracted slightly—half panic, half disbelief.

Then one of the middle-aged men forced his way forward. "Mom! Thank God you’re alive! I was so worried! It’s all that driver’s fault—Tom was speeding!"

Judy weakly lifted her uninjured arm, eyes closing as if to beg them to stop.

But before she could, a woman lunged in, seizing Judy’s hand tightly. "Mom, you can rest easy now. I’ll take care of Brian and everyone else—just go in peace!"

Sophia froze for a second—then her instincts flared.

She squeezed Lucas’s arm sharply, whispering under her breath, "Look at her hand—the woman’s digging her nails into her!"

Lucas raised a brow, his tone low and detached. "It’s their family business, Sophia. Don’t get involved."

But Sophia’s temper snapped.

She strode forward, pried the woman’s hand off Judy’s wrist, and snapped coldly, "I’ve seen a lot of heartless people in my life—but never someone who’d literally try to kill their own mother in a hospital bed!"