The CEO's Contract Bride

Chapter 19: The Sweep

At midnight, while Ava slept, David's team swept the mansion.

They moved like ghosts — no lights, no talking, thermal scanners and bug detectors sweeping every room. Ethan watched the feed from his study, his jaw tighter with each report.

"Bedroom. One device, behind the headboard." David's voice was low in his earpiece. "Study. One, under the desk. Living room. One, inside the lamp."

"Keep going."

"Sitting room. One, behind the bookshelf." A pause. "Sir... the nursery."

Ethan closed his eyes. "What?"

"One device. Inside the smoke detector." David's voice shook with anger. "They bugged the baby's room, sir. A room that's still empty."

Ethan's fist came down on the desk so hard the wood cracked.

"Five devices," David said. "Professional grade. Based on the dust patterns, I'd say they've been there for..." He hesitated. "Two to three months, sir."

Two to three months. Since just after the second hotel incident.

"They've heard everything," Ethan said quietly. "Every plan. Every conversation." His voice dropped. "Every moment I've had with my wife."

"Sir, I—"

"Photograph everything," Ethan cut in. "I want the exact positions, the models, the serial numbers. If these are commercial devices, I want to know who bought them."

"Already on it." David's voice was grim. "Sir, there's something else. The devices in the bedroom and study — they're not just transmitters. They have local storage. If the signal was ever jammed, they'd keep recording."

"So even if we'd found them by accident..." Ethan's blood ran cold. "They'd still have everything."

"Yes, sir."

Ethan stared at the cracked wood under his fist. "Leave them. Don't remove a single one."

"Sir?"

"If we pull them out, Phoenix will know we're onto them." Ethan leaned forward, his eyes burning. "Instead, we're going to use them. They want to listen? Fine. We'll give them something to hear."

At dawn, Ethan told Ava everything.

She listened in silence, her face growing paler. When he finished, she walked to the nursery and stood in the doorway, staring at the smoke detector.

"They listened to us in here," she whispered. "When we talked about... the crib. The yellow walls." Her voice broke. "Ethan, they heard us dream."

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm going to find who did this," he said into her hair. "And when I do—"

"No." She turned in his arms. Her eyes were red, but fierce. "We're going to find them. Together." She took a deep breath. "What's the plan?"

Ethan smiled grimly. "We feed them a lie."

The plan was simple.

At 10 AM, Ethan and David would have a "private" conversation in the study — right next to the bugged lamp. They would discuss moving Ava to a safe house: a specific address, tomorrow morning, minimal guards because "we can't spare the men."

If Phoenix reacted to that address, they'd know the bugs were live.

"And then?" Ava asked.

"And then David's tech team traces how fast the information travels, and where." Ethan's eyes were hard. "The mole has to communicate somehow. Phone, internet, dead drop. We'll be watching everything."

"What if it's Vivian?" Ava asked quietly.

Ethan was silent for a moment. His stepmother lived in the mansion. She hated Ava. She had access to every room.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I intend to find out."

At 10 AM sharp, Ethan and David sat in the study.

"The safe house is ready," David said, his voice carrying just enough. "Number 47, Blue Water Lane. Quiet neighborhood. We'll move Mrs. Gu tomorrow at eight in the morning."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, making sure his voice reached the lamp. "Only four guards. We can't spare more. Phoenix has stretched us thin."

"Yes, sir." David shuffled some papers loudly. "I'll arrange it quietly. No one outside this room will know."

"Good." Ethan stood. "Ava's been through enough. I want her somewhere Phoenix can't find her."

They left the study, closing the door behind them.

In the hallway, David murmured: "The address is real, by the way. Empty house, owned by one of our shell companies. If anyone shows up there..."

"We'll be waiting," Ethan finished.

Then they waited.

David's tech team monitored every signal leaving the mansion — every phone call, every text, every Wi-Fi packet. Two technicians watched the screens without blinking.

For two hours, nothing.

Ethan paced his office. Ava sat with him, reading, pretending to be calm. Every few minutes, her eyes flicked to the clock.

"They might wait until night," David said. "The mole will want to be careful."

"Or the mole already knows it's a trap," Ethan muttered.

Then, at 12:14 PM, an encrypted message burst from the mansion's network — routed through seventeen proxies, almost untraceable.

Almost.

David's lead technician looked up, his face white.

"Sir," he said. "We caught it. But..."

"But what?"

"The message wasn't sent to the outside." The technician swallowed. "It was sent from inside this mansion. To another device inside this mansion."

The room went silent.

"Explain," Ethan said.

"Someone in this house received the study conversation through the bug..." The technician pulled up a signal map. "And then forwarded it — to someone else in this house. The final recipient..." He zoomed in on the mansion's floor plan. A red dot pulsed.

"The east wing," David breathed. "That's—"

"Vivian's wing," Ethan finished.

His stepmother's rooms.

Ethan stood slowly. "David. With me."

They walked through the mansion's corridors, their footsteps echoing. With each step, Ethan's mind raced.

Vivian. All along. The woman who tried to make Ava miscarry. Who hated her from the first day.

They reached the east wing door.

Ethan pushed it open.

The sitting room was empty. Dust motes danced in the afternoon light. But on the coffee table, a phone lay face-down, its screen still glowing through the frosted glass.

Ethan picked it up with a handkerchief — old habits.

On the screen: a message, half-typed, unsent.

"Tomorrow, 8 AM. Number 47, Blue Water—"

The exact words from the study. The trap had worked.

But the message was never sent. Whoever was typing it had stopped halfway.

Because they heard us coming, Ethan realized.

And behind him, a voice — cold, amused, horribly familiar:

"Looking for me, dear stepson?"

Ethan spun around, the phone still in his hand.

Vivian stood in the doorway.

She wore an elegant dark dress, a glass of red wine in her hand, completely at ease. Her smile was the smile of a cat watching a mouse.

"Or should I say..." She took a slow sip of wine, her eyes never leaving his. "...Phoenix?"

The room went silent.

David's hand moved toward his gun.

"Don't," Vivian said lightly. "We wouldn't want an accident. Not with the little wife upstairs." Her smile widened. "Or should I say... the little incubator?"

Ethan's vision went red. "You—"

"Me." Vivian set down her wine glass with deliberate care. "Surprised, Ethan? You shouldn't be. I've been telling you for months that girl doesn't belong in this family." She tilted her head. "You just never asked why I hated her so much."

"You're bluffing." But Ethan's voice shook. "Phoenix is a group. The Broker said—"

"The Broker says a lot of things." Vivian waved a dismissive hand. "Poor man. So talkative. It's a wonder he's still alive." She paused. "Oh wait. He isn't. Not anymore."

Ethan felt the floor tilt. "What?"

"Let's just say the Broker won't be writing any more notes." Vivian picked up her wine again. "Now. Shall we talk about what happens next, dear stepson? Or would you prefer I make another phone call?"