CHAPTER 74: CHILD’S PLAY

Don’t even talk about "getting even."

The gap between them was obvious. Ethan showing up was just a probe—nothing more.

And besides... was she really so blind?

Had she not seen Ethan slip something into the seam of the sofa while she was bending over?

Of course not—nothing comes for no reason.

Ethan’s little trick, placed there like a preschool prank, was almost laughable.

She looked at him, and a chill ran through her.

Ethan might once have been the "good bet" for marriage, but fate had other plans.

"Sophia, don’t regret this!" Ethan called as he stood up, delivering one last venomous parting shot before heading for the door.

"Regret it? Never," she scoffed.

He spun around to say more, but before he could, Sophia slammed the door so hard he nearly got his nose crushed by it.

When the hallway went quiet, she walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and glanced outside.

Ethan was already in his car—but he hadn’t driven away.

A smile tugged at her lips. Trying out a bug, was he?

Sophia picked up the kids’ rubber squeaky chicken and set it on the sofa.

"Mommy!" Faye came downstairs at that moment. Sophia waved and bent close to whisper a few words into the little girl’s ear. Faye nodded obediently.

"Mommy—look! The squeaky chicken!" she chirped.

In the car, the bug’s feed crackled clear through Ethan’s earpiece. A smile flickered across his face—then, suddenly—

"WAAAH!"

The shrill scream nearly blew his eardrums out. He ripped the headphones off and rubbed his ears for a long beat before he could think straight.

"Mommy, I don’t want this squeaky chicken anymore. Can I have another toy?" Faye pleaded.

Sophia aimed the toy straight at the seam where she’d guessed the bug was hidden and timed it perfectly.

Ethan had only just put the earpiece back on when the piercing sound hit again. He yanked it off, cursing under his breath.

"Damn it!" he spat.

A moment later, Faye was waving enthusiastically at the window.

Sophia studied the spot for a beat—Ethan had a reason to plant something in that couch. Whether he meant revenge, or the Trump family wanted intel on her and Lucas, it was a clever move. She had to give him that.

...

That night Lucas walked in—and someone jumped out at him with a squeal.

"Honey! You’re back!"

The saccharine voice made his skin prickle.

"Sophia, you—" he started.

She clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes bright. "Hubby—so you’ll take me to pick out jewelry tomorrow, right?"

Lucas glanced at her, and the reason for this uncharacteristic behavior clicked. "Mm. What do you want?"

"There’s a new set from Country F. It’s pricey—about one hundred seventy million for the whole collection."

"Buy it."

He looped an arm around her waist and leaned close to murmur, "You owe me for the help. Don’t forget to repay me."

Sophia’s smile was half charm, half steel.

"Master, you’re back. Come and have dinner. I’ll go upstairs and call the young masters and young ladies." Mrs. Wilson called.

Upstairs, Faye had already exaggerated Ethan’s offense in all the juicy details. Billy was just shutting his laptop when Mrs. Wilson opened the door, startling them.

"Nanny Wilson!" the kids chorused.

"Little masters and misses, dinner’s ready."

"We’re coming!" Angela called.

When Mrs. Wilson left, Angela turned to the others quickly. "We need a plan."

"A plan?" Billy asked.

"If he’s trying to draw things out of Mommy, why can’t we draw things out of them?" Angela said. "Billy, you did research on the Trump Family’s finances—there’s something off. If the Trump Family has dirty money, it’ll show at home. Let’s go to the Trump Group tomorrow. For now, act normal at dinner—don’t give anything away."

She slipped into her fuzzy slippers and headed downstairs.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

"Angela, kids, come here!"

Sophia tried to move toward them, but an arm around her waist held her firmly in place. She froze.

"Lucas!"

He just gave her a look—his eyes flicked toward the sofa.

She sighed in defeat. God, had his skin gotten thicker in just a few days?

"Daddy, can you buy me a private jet?" Charles blurted.

"Sure."

Charles blinked, clearly not expecting him to actually agree.

Next to him, Eric rubbed his hands together shyly. "Daddy, I want one too..."

"Buy ten," Lucas said smoothly. "The extras can take Mrs. Wilson grocery shopping."

Mrs. Wilson, standing to the side, nearly dropped her tray. "Sir, that’s a joke, right? Who takes a jet to buy groceries?"

Lucas’s lips curved into the faintest hint of amusement.

"That’s awesome! Daddy, you’re the best!"

"Yeah! There’s no one better than Mommy and Daddy!"

All six kids jumped in, showering their parents with over-the-top compliments.

The smile tugging at Lucas’s mouth grew just a little wider. He had to admit—these kids weren’t as resistant to him as he’d imagined.

...

At the Trump estate, Ethan’s face was dark with fury.

Ten private jets? And the extras for the housekeeper to shop with?

And that jewelry set Sophia wanted—worth over one hundred million—Lucas didn’t even blink before saying yes?!

"Ethan, what did you hear?" Thomas demanded, his expression like stone.

Beside him stood Lisa and Brandon, silent but tense.

In the Trump Family, the old man ruled with an iron grip. If he disapproved, no one dared move.

The recent headlines had humiliated him, and the wiretap idea had been his.

"Dad, if Lucas finds out, we—"

"Silence!"

Thomas’s hawk-like eyes cut toward Lisa, and she flinched.

"Father," she said cautiously, "Lucas isn’t just anyone. Hilton Group ranks among the top ten corporations in the world."

She was being diplomatic. If she were honest, they were probably top three—maybe even number one.

"So what?" Thomas snapped. "Don’t forget, we’re still in the top five hundred!"

His confidence would’ve been admirable if it weren’t so suicidal.

Lucas Hilton was known for being cold and unpredictable—especially after his accident. Ever since losing the use of his legs, he’d become darker, more dangerous.

Lisa had only met him once, but the memory of his eyes still haunted her.

That gaze alone had more weight, more power, than her father’s fury ever did.

If Thomas’s plan backfired, Lucas would make them pay—twice over.

"Lisa," Thomas said sharply, "a man who achieves great things can’t be shackled by petty fear. Lucas is just another young upstart. Don’t give him too much credit."

She bit her tongue. He was still her father—she couldn’t argue.

"But—"

"No ’buts!’" he barked. "You’ll stand by your family. And your son—" He turned to Ethan. "Tomorrow, you’re going to see Andrew. Tell him... the engagement with Olivia is back on."

Ethan’s eyes widened in shock. "Grandfather, what did you just say?!"