CHAPTER 59: WORDS THAT HIDE THE HEART

Sophia realized the situation was getting dangerous and quickly surrendered. "Okay, fine! I was wrong."

"Oh, now you know how to admit it?" Lucas’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Don’t you know the softer you act, the more it makes men want to protect you?"

"Then why don’t you get off me already!"

Sophia shouted, pushing him away. But the moment she sat up, he shoved her right back down again.

Lucas gave a wicked grin. "Didn’t you know? The more a woman resists, the stronger a man’s desire to conquer becomes."

She was done for.

This man’s shamelessness knew no limits—literally none.

"Fine, what do you want then? Necrophilia? Go ahead."

She spread her arms dramatically and shut her eyes, completely giving up.

Whatever tension had been in the air vanished instantly.

Lucas pinched her chin and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Let me make one thing clear, Sophia. You won’t always get lucky. Next time you keep something from me—imagine the consequences carefully."

"What consequences? You’ll bore me to death lecturing about parenting again?"

Lucas blinked, momentarily thrown off, before his expression hardened again.

Sophia reached under her pillow and pulled out a book titled How to Be a Good Dad. "Mr. Hilton, I didn’t expect you to be so interested in family education~"

Her teasing tone made Lucas want to strangle her on the spot.

"Give it here."

"No."

"I said give it!"

"Make me! Or better yet, beg for it."

Lucas lunged, but Sophia twisted away, slipping off the bed—and somehow managed to flip him onto his back instead.

She grinned, leaned close to his ear, and whispered playfully, "Nice glutes, Mr. Hilton. Been working out?"

Before he could respond, she smacked him right on the butt.

Lucas froze, eyes narrowing. He actually couldn’t move—pinned down by the woman on top of him.

"Our contract lasts three months, remember?" she murmured, voice suddenly cool. "Don’t fall too deep, Mr. Hilton. This is just a game."

Her teasing turned to ice. She placed the book beside him, stood, and walked away.

Lucas frowned faintly, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his face.

Right.

This was supposed to be revenge.

He had made her his woman to humiliate her, to make her pay.

He’d secretly helped both the Morgan and Trump families just to corner her.

So why—why did he suddenly feel that strange pang of guilt?

No, Lucas. You’ve lost your damn mind.

This is just an act.

You’re doing it for the six kids.

If Sophia wants to leave, let her—but the children stay. That’s all that matters.

Unaware of the emotion flickering in his own eyes, Lucas sat up, straightened his shirt, and once again became the cold, calculating businessman the world feared.

...

Downstairs, the six kids rushed to Sophia as soon as she appeared.

"Mommy! Are you okay?"

"Did Daddy bully you? We’ll beat him up!"

"Yeah! Let’s all beat him up!"

Sophia couldn’t help but laugh. "Of course not. I’m fine. Aunt Harper just texted—she wants me to stop by. Do you all want to come?"

"Yeah!" they chorused.

Sophia nodded and gathered them to leave, calling out to the housekeeper as she did. "Mrs. Wilson, we won’t be home for dinner tonight."

"Yes, ma’am. Be safe, Mrs. Hilton."

Instead of taking her usual long Rolls-Royce, Sophia went to the garage and chose Lucas’s recently purchased stretch Lincoln—the one he’d bought especially for the kids.

If someone had already tried to harm her once, there was a good chance they’d try again.

...

The roar of the engine reached Lucas’s ears. He knew Sophia had left Blackstone Manor with the six children.

Lucas had never cared for birthdays. To him, it was just another date—far less important than a business deal or an investment. But this year was different. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had six kids. And... her.

He stood at the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor, watching Sophia drive away. The car sped off down the road. She didn’t even say "Happy Birthday." In fact, she planned not to come home at all tonight.

His face remained unreadable, but an unfamiliar emptiness stirred quietly in his chest.

Startled by his own emotion, Lucas froze. Ridiculous. Since when did he care about such trivial things?

He scoffed, yanked the curtains shut, and locked himself in his study.

The sound of his keyboard echoed sharply through the room—crisp, mechanical, and disciplined.

As if the steady rhythm of work could drown out that strange, unshakable sense of loss.

After sending the message, Harper had been running herself ragged at Carter Group.

"Harper."

The moment she heard Sophia’s voice, Harper looked like she was about to cry.

"Sophia! You’re finally here! Save me, please!"

In front of her was a mountain of files—literally stacked as high as a person.

"What on earth are you doing? Where’s William?"

"Sophia, it’s him! He’s making me go through every single contract—every one—and find out which ones are traps! Not just contracts, either—there’s market analysis, business reports... I’m losing my mind! Nobody can stop me!"

She half-dramatically bumped her forehead against the wall—but not too hard.

"He told you to do all this?"

Harper, the precious daughter of the Carter family, had once hidden her background to work in the medical field she loved.

Scalpels and surgeries didn’t scare her in the slightest, but business paperwork? That was another story.

Sophia frowned slightly, puzzled.

"Aunt Harper," Dustin said quietly, studying the piles of files, "is he trying to train you to take over Carter Group someday?"

"No way! My brother’s the heir, not me! I don’t want it!"

She denied it, but the possibility was there.

Sophia casually picked up a file and immediately spotted the key issues. The traps went from subtle to serious—and unfortunately, every single one Harper thought was fine had problems.

"Harper, you..."

"I did well, right? I caught the issues?"

"Not even close. You’re hopeless in business."

Harper deflated like a balloon.

"My brother’s in a meeting with some old guy. Please, help me, Sophia! He keeps watching me like a hawk—this is my only break!"

"Old guy?"

Harper nodded dramatically. "Yes! An old guy! The worst kind of bad guy!"

But from the way she said "bad," Sophia could tell Harper didn’t really think he was bad. The only people Harper called "bad" were the ones who impressed her.

Sophia just sighed, helpless.

"William’s doing this for your own good. You need the experience."

"Sophia! Some best friend you are!"

"Sorry, bestie. Sometimes love means throwing you to the wolves."

If William suddenly wanted Harper involved in company affairs, he must have a reason—and honestly, it was good training for her.

Just then, the office door opened.

William and Ryan walked out, both smiling like they’d just sealed a deal.

"William. Mr. Wright."

Sophia greeted them, catching their attention immediately.

Ryan’s brows lifted in surprise. Then he noticed Harper—and that amused smile of his widened.

"Sophia, what brings you here?"

"I came to check on Harper. Didn’t expect to find you here, though. Mr. Wright is quite the talent, William. You’d be smart to keep him close."

Harper blinked. "Wait—you two know each other? Sophia, you know this bad old man?"

Ryan: "..."

Sophia smiled. "He’s actually a very respectable man. Mr. Wright, Harper calls anyone she secretly admires a ’bad guy.’ It’s her weird way of saying she’s impressed."

Ryan’s mood instantly improved. "Oh? Is that so?"

He couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle Harper’s hair.

Harper’s eyes went wide. "You just touched my head! Don’t you know that’ll make me shorter?!"

Sophia grabbed her arm quickly. "Harper."

Ryan chuckled. "Didn’t expect to run into you today, Miss Morgan. Care to step aside for a chat?"

"Sure."

Downstairs, they sat in the café.

"I’m heading back to City Y," he said.

She sipped her coffee. "For the fashion show?"

He nodded. "Yes. The Wright family’s investing big—top designers, famous models. It’s the key event to draw in investors this season."

Sophia’s gaze turned unreadable, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile.

"Well then... I look forward to our first official meeting, Mr. Wright. See you in City Y."

After parting ways with Ryan, Sophia hadn’t planned to do anything for Lucas’s birthday. She only meant to take the kids out for a casual dinner somewhere nearby. After all, their marriage was just a contract—she wasn’t obligated to play the role of a loving wife.

But the kids wouldn’t stop talking about it.

Angela, pretending to sound casual, piped up in her soft, milky voice, "Mommy, today is Daddy’s birthday!"

Billy and Charles chimed in from both sides, perfectly coordinated. "But if we leave Daddy home alone, won’t he feel lonely?"

"I wanna sing him the happy birthday song!" Dustin clapped his hands, eyes shining.

"Me too!" Eric shouted, hand raised high.

Faye hugged Sophia’s leg and blinked up at her. "Mommy, I wanna tell Daddy ’Happy Birthday.’"

Sophia’s heart gave a small, unexpected tremor. She didn’t even know what possessed her—but before she realized it, she was standing in a bakery with six excited kids, ordering a cake and calling in a fancy takeout order. Soon, she was back behind the wheel, driving toward Blackstone Manor, the car filled with laughter.

...

Night fell.

In his study, Lucas shut his laptop with a cold snap. His face was expressionless, but his jaw was tight—he needed a glass of red wine to drown the irritation that had been burning in his chest all day.

Just as he stood, a flurry of whispers and shuffling noises came from outside the door.

"Shhh! Keep it quiet!"

"Don’t drop the cake!"

"Faye, stop sneaking frosting!"

Their high, childish voices chirped through the hall like a flock of sparrows. Lucas frowned and pushed the door open.

Downstairs in the dining room, six little figures were gathered around a large cake glowing with candlelight. Sophia stood beside them, the soft orange flames casting a gentle warmth across her face.

Faye was the first to notice him. "Daddy’s coming!"

All six kids turned toward the staircase at once.

"Happy birthday to you—"

Their little voices sang in perfect imperfection—off-key, messy, but so sincere it made the air itself soften.

Lucas froze. His cold, hard expression cracked—just a little.

Angela ran up, tugged his hand, and pulled him toward the table. "Daddy, make a wish!"

Lucas gave a soft snort, keeping up his usual arrogance. "Do you really think something this childish would matter to me?"

The six kids immediately stopped singing, their faces dropping, little brows furrowed in dismay.

Sophia glanced at him, smirking. "If you don’t care, that’s fine. Kids, let’s take the cake—more for us."

"Wait." Lucas’s voice cut through the air, low and firm. He pressed one hand on the cake box. His eyes were sharp, but the faint upward curve of his lips betrayed him. "Since it’s already here, we might as well not waste it."

The kids burst into laughter and cheers. "Daddy’s gonna make a wish!"

Under six pairs of bright, expectant eyes, Lucas slowly closed his own.

For a man as proud as him, the wish that crossed his mind was one he’d never dare to say out loud—

May this noise never end.

The candles went out amid cheers and clapping.

Dinner that night was a whirlwind of laughter. The long dining table was covered with steak, lobster, and salad from a five-star restaurant. The kids fought to pile food onto his plate, clinking their juice glasses. "Daddy, cheers!"

Sophia sat quietly beside them, seemingly indifferent, but there was a faint tenderness in her gaze—one she didn’t even realize was there.

Lucas lifted his wineglass, still looking every bit the proud man he was, his voice deep and low. "Next time, try coming home earlier."

Sophia blinked, momentarily speechless—but before she could respond, the six kids chorused in perfect unison, "We promise, Daddy!"

The whole room erupted in laughter, the atmosphere light and warm.

By the end of the night, the kids were worn out, sprawled across couches and chairs, fast asleep. Sophia carried them back to their rooms, one by one. When she was gone, the vast dining hall fell silent again, leaving only Lucas behind.

He looked down at the birthday card resting on the table, covered in messy crayon handwriting:

"Happy Birthday, Daddy. We love you."

His eyes darkened, a faint, restrained smile curving his lips—proud and just a little fragile.

That night, for the first time, Blackstone Manor wasn’t just a cold, empty castle.

It was home.