Return with My Kickass Triplets

Chapter 6 Caught in a Bind

"That diamond has always been a Weston family heirloom!" Laura snorted with a smirk, her tone laced with schadenfreude at Simon's misfortune. "Instead of pointing fingers at me, Mr. Morgan, perhaps you should focus on what you'll showcase at next month's launch event. As the chief designer for Nordis, I can't wait to see how the Morgan Group delivers."

Simon's sharp gaze flickered into her slightly reddened eyes, and it didn't take much for him to piece together where she'd been earlier that afternoon. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a voice recorder.

"Here lies all the witness testimony from your father's trial. Laura, you want to reopen the case, don't you?"

His tone wasn't questioning. It was matter-of-fact.

Laura's instinct kicked in, and she lunged for the recorder, only to watch him pocket it swiftly, staying just out of her reach.

Her teeth clenched against her lower lip, frustration simmering as she tugged at her hair. "What do you want, Simon? Even without that recorder, I could still reopen the case. My father didn't do what they accused him of!"

"You've got time," Simon remarked coldly, tossing a stack of papers onto the table.

"But I wonder if Mr. Weston has the luxury of waiting in prison. Your little performance on the plane offended one of Morgan Group's major shareholders. Have him sign this non-withdrawal agreement, and the recorder is yours."

Laura tightened her grip on the edge of the table, her nails digging into the wood.

"What? You're holding me to ransom over this? I represent Nordis—don't think you can just—"

"Don't waste your breath," Simon interrupted, his voice a glacier.

"I've already spoken to headquarters in Mireland. They're ready to sign. The most you can do is slow things down, but you don't have the power to stop them."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?" Laura shot back, frustration building as the thought of her father languishing in prison tightened her chest.

Simon leaned back on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you really think you've got a choice?"

Laura froze, trapped. She bit her lip, spinning on her heel to stomp into the kitchen. If she couldn't fight him outright, she'd have to play along for now. Dinner was slapped together in record time, but she still managed to arrange a call with the shareholders for later that evening.

As the night crept in, Simon gave a low chuckle as he watched her from the doorway.

"You really are in a hurry."

Laura ignored him, slipping into her room to change. She handed Eliot a strict set of instructions: if anything happened, he was to call her immediately. And above all, the three kids were not to leave with Simon under any circumstances.

"Laura!" Simon barked, his patience fraying. "You think I can't hear you? If I wanted to take the kids, do you think I'd sit here waiting for you to come back?"

She didn't dignify him with a response, simply rolling her eyes before striding out the door.

Carter grumpily grabbed his dinner plate, retreating to his room, where his computer awaited him. Meanwhile, Eliot ushered Lila and Simon to the table.

Despite the rushed preparation, the meal—featuring slow-braised pork ribs and pumpkin pastry twists—was surprisingly well-balanced. Simon's eyebrows lifted in mild astonishment.

It wasn't long ago that Laura was the pampered heiress of the Weston family, where even her tea was brewed for her. Who would've thought she could hold her own in the kitchen now?

"I have a question," Lila piped up timidly between bites, her big eyes glancing up at Simon. Despite his frosty demeanor, he wasn't entirely unlikable. "Why are you making Mommy do things she doesn't want to do? She's going to hate you for this, you know."

Simon paused, caught off guard by the child's candor. Recovering quickly, he replied evenly, "She made a mistake and needs to face the consequences. If she hadn't caused that scene on the plane, we wouldn't be dealing with shareholders pulling their investments."

Lila tilted her head, confused, but Eliot's face darkened as he pieced it together. "So what you're saying," Eliot said, his voice steady and far too mature for his age, "is that Mommy needs to pay for her actions—like Grandpa had to pay for his, right?"

Simon's jaw tightened. "That's right. Actions have consequences."

"But why did she cause a scene? And why did Grandpa go to prison in the first place?"

Eliot continued, a protective tone creeping into his voice as he served more food onto Lila's plate.

"Mommy didn't make a fuss just for fun. She did it to get the diamond back. The bigger the scene, the more attention it gets. That's the only way to clear Grandpa's name."

"I only trust hard evidence," Simon cut in firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"Evidence can be faked, but people can't fake what's in their hearts," Lila retorted, her small hands gripping her utensils. "Mommy's always honest. We'll always believe in her."

Simon faltered, the unwavering trust in Lila's gaze catching him off guard. For a brief moment, something softened in his expression. But just as quickly, the warmth disappeared, and he set his chopsticks down.

The taxi pulled up to the Azure Garden International Hotel, its bright sign casting a faint glow across the cool night air. Wrapping her coat tightly around her, Laura cursed Simon under her breath.

After confirming her room number, the attendant's expression flickered briefly before leading her to room 9005.

Inside, James Smith lounged in a tailored suit that did little to mask his thuggish aura. His broad face twisted into a smirk as he sized her up.

"Miss Weston, I've heard all about your situation. But let's get real—offending Simon by pulling my investment already has me in hot water. What's in it for me to help you?" His tone was casual, but his intentions were clear as day.

Harrison's voice crackled over the phone. "Mr. Smith, you've had your eye on that Greenland project for a while now. Help me with this, and I'll make sure you get connected."

James's grin widened. "Deal."

As he hung up, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," he called lazily, and in stepped Laura, her white dress flowing elegantly. Her high ponytail only accentuated her striking features, and her poised demeanor lit up the room.

For a moment, James's leering gaze softened with surprise. "Well, well, Simon sure knows how to pick his emissaries."

Laura ignored his comment, offering a polite smile as she set the documents on the table. "Mr. Smith, these are the latest reports on Morgan Group's stock trends and dividend performance. Divesting now wouldn't be in your best interest. I'd suggest reconsidering."

James's eyes roamed her figure, lingering where they shouldn't. Laura clenched her fists but held her composure.

Leaning back with a smirk, James sneered, "I remember you. Weren't you the woman who caused that scene on the plane? The papers were all over it—something about being the daughter of a r****t. And now Simon sends you to negotiate with me? What does that say about his opinion of me?"

Laura didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled, her voice steady. "Rumors rarely hold truth. Just like the ones that said you were a greedy, lecherous brute. Meeting you tonight, I can see how wrong they were."

Her calm deflection struck a nerve, but James chuckled, his mood shifting. "Fair enough. But if you want to talk business, show me some sincerity." He slid a glass of red wine toward her. "Bottoms up."