Return with My Kickass Triplets

Chapter 4 Don't Mess with My Mom

Simon held the pen with an effortless grace, signing his name with a flourish, "The Morgan Group takes full responsibility for any oversight in hiring. The press conference will be postponed until next month."

Before anyone could react, he grabbed Laura by the wrist and dragged her to the private front cabin, sealing them off from the rest of the plane.

Harrison, eager to follow, was stopped by Simon's bodyguards under the pretense of concern for her health, escorting her elsewhere to rest.

Meanwhile, Eliot tagged along. As they entered the cabin, he gave two subtle taps on his earpiece and fiddled with a small black device resembling an MP4 player, his little fingers pressing the buttons with precision.

The three settled into the spacious cabin. Laura leaned back casually, peeling a grape and gently feeding it to Eliot. "Sweet?" she asked.

"Uh-huh. Mommy, you have one too!" Eliot quickly picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth.

Watching this cozy scene, Simon felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest.

It wasn't the 3 million dollars she had just schemed out of him, nor was it Harrison's plagiarism scandal being exposed. It was the odd sense that in this warm little picture, he was the outsider.

"Come here," Simon finally said, his brow arching slightly as his gaze landed on Eliot.

Eliot studied him for a moment, then obediently toddled over, standing still as Simon appraised him.

"Too short," Simon finally declared after a long pause. He had no experience with kids, let alone interacting with one this sharp, but it was clear the boy had been well cared for.

Hearing this, Laura rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Better short than growing tall without growing a brain."

Simon shot her a look but ignored the jab. After a beat, his expression turned serious. "How much do you want?"

"What?" Laura blinked, not catching his drift.

"Eliot is a Morgan by blood. I'll take him back and raise him properly," Simon said flatly. "Name your price."

Laura instantly understood. Fury surged through her as she turned crimson. "Six years, Simon. Six years of me juggling jobs, night classes, and rent to raise him on my own. Let's see… 4 million dollars should do it. And since having a child lowers my market value for remarriage, let's tack on another 3.2 million dollars for damages. What do you say, Mr. Morgan? Fair deal?"

"Laura. Weston." Simon growled through gritted teeth, his patience snapping as he pinned her against the plush leather sofa.

Their proximity was electric—heartbeats audible in the charged silence. Laura's sharp gaze, once innocent, now carried an edge of maturity and defiance. It was like looking at a stranger he couldn't look away from.

"Don't try to pull any tricks," he hissed.

Eliot, who had been quietly watching, suddenly burst into tears. "Don't bully my mommy! Mommy, don't let him bully you!"

Simon stiffened, his grip loosening as Eliot's voice brought him back to his senses.

Eliot needed the restroom, and Laura naturally went with him. Simon didn't bat an eye—they were on a private jet 8 kilometers above sea level. There was literally no place for them to run.

But as the minutes ticked by, his irritation grew. He rubbed his temples, feeling as though the moment Laura reappeared in his life, his carefully orchestrated plans had been thrown into disarray.

Suddenly, the plane jolted violently before stabilizing at cruising altitude. The pilot's voice crackled through the intercom, full of confusion: "We've lost control of the system temporarily."

Simon's head snapped up, a horrible suspicion dawning on him. He bolted to the cabin door, only to find it open.

There she was—Laura, standing at the edge of the emergency exit in a flowing white dress, holding Eliot securely with a safety rope tethered around them. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind as the open sky beckoned behind her.

"I brought him to see you because Eliot wanted to meet his father," Laura shouted over the roaring wind. "But… turns out, he's not impressed." Her mocking smile hit him like a slap.

And then, without another word, she turned and jumped.

"Laura!" Simon roared, lunging forward, his voice raw and desperate.

But it was too late. The figures of mother and son disappeared into the void, leaving only the faint trace of her laugh lingering in the cabin.

Simon stood frozen, the memory of six years ago flashing back like a cruel déjà vu. He had lost her again—no, he had never truly held onto her.

The flight attendants scrambled to close the emergency door, securing the cabin.

Simon, however, stormed into the cockpit.

On the radar, a heat signature showed a figure slowly descending toward the ocean, its speed controlled as a parachute deployed.

He exhaled a shaky laugh, then slammed his fist into the wall. "Same trick, same damn trick," he muttered, incredulous. This time, though, she had accomplices—smart ones.

Recalling the device in Eliot's hand and the boy's earpiece, Simon turned to the pilot. "Why did the plane dip earlier?"

"Sir, there were two separate signals—one on-board interference and another hacking into the control tower," the pilot said, visibly rattled. "It was coordinated."

Simon's jaw clenched, his amusement giving way to admiration laced with irritation. "Find her. I don't care what it takes."

"And when we do? Should we detain her?" the bodyguard asked cautiously.

Simon smirked. "No. I want to see what game she's playing."

On the deck of a sleek yacht, Laura shivered violently as the parachute was folded away.

"I told you to wear a coat, but no, you wanted to look 'cool,'" Eliot scolded, his small hands fussing over her.

"A puffer jacket would've ruined the vibe," Laura argued, teeth chattering. She had hidden a thermal vest and heating patches under her dress, but the high-altitude chill had still seeped through.

A little girl with round, sparkling eyes and chubby cheeks hurried over, handing her a steaming cup of ginger tea. "Mommy, drink this. It'll help!"

"Brother, did everything go okay?" the girl, Lila, asked, looking up at Eliot with wide-eyed innocence.

"Smooth as butter," Eliot replied, patting her head with a satisfied grin.

"We've got about 20 minutes before they track this yacht. We should move," said another boy, Carter, his fingers flying across a laptop as he erased their digital trail.

Laura stared at her three children, momentarily dumbfounded.

This plan had been hers—her idea. But when push came to shove, it seemed like all the heavy lifting was done by her kids, leaving her as little more than the dramatic bait.

"Mommy, go rest up. We'll dock soon," Lila chirped, her round face tilting with adorable confidence.

Smiling faintly, Laura retreated to the cabin, where she carefully locked away Muse's Tears—the priceless diamond necklace her mother had left her.

Clearing her father's name and reuniting her family would mean dismantling Harrison's schemes.

Laura clenched her fists. She would stop at nothing to bring her family back together.