Genius Kids' Scheme: Claiming Daddy's Billionaire Empire Chapter 139

Irene was heading back to her room when her phone erupted with the triplets' incoming video call. Three little faces instantly crowded the screen, each shoving for a better view.

"Mom!" they shouted in unison, the chaotic overlay of voices making Irene wince and hold the phone at arm's length.

"Mom, whatcha doing? Where's Uncle Adam?" Lucas muscled his way to the center of the frame before getting pushed back by his siblings.

"Does Mom miss Lily?" Lily cooed, fluttering her eyelashes with practiced perfection.

They trampled over each other's words with such enthusiasm that Irene couldn't get a word in edgewise. She couldn't help the smile that crept across her face at their eager expressions.

"Of course I miss you monsters," she said, her voice instantly softer. "Just finished dinner. You guys behaving for Great-grandfather?"

She sank deeper into the couch cushions, tucking one leg under herself. "Adam's buried in work stuff. Can't come to the phone right now." The sight of their little faces melted away the day's tension.

Alex nodded with exaggerated seriousness. "That's cool. Let Uncle Adam finish his important CEO stuff."

"We've been angels!" Lucas crowed, puffing his chest out. "Great-grandfather thinks we're the best!"

Lily propped her chin on her hands, eyes wide. "So what've you been up to all day?"

Irene smirked at the screen. "Movies, shows, eating whatever I want. No kids around means total freedom."

*That ought to make them jealous*, she thought smugly.

"With Uncle Adam?" Alex pounced, hope practically dripping from his voice.

"Nope," Irene popped the 'p' sound. "Adam's been locked in his room with work all day. We had dinner together, that's it."

The kids' faces fell in perfect sync, their disappointment impossible to disguise despite their scrambling to hide it.

*These little matchmakers are relentless*, Irene realized. *We're literally staying in the same place and barely crossing paths. What do they expect?*

The triplets recovered quickly, plastering on brave faces.

"Uncle Adam works super hard," Lily sighed dramatically.

Lucas nudged her. "Mom'll take good care of him though." His tone dripped with hidden meaning.

A weird flutter kicked up in Irene's chest. *Take care of Adam? These kids are something else.*

"Duh, 'cause Mom's his doctor," Alex jumped in, words tumbling out suspiciously fast.

They chatted about school and great-grandfather stories for a few more minutes before ending the call. Irene shook her head afterward, amused by their transparent scheming.

The night stretched on as Irene dove back into her movie marathon. She'd knocked out three films already and was deep into the fourth when she realized the suite had been silent for hours.

By the time the credits rolled on the fifth and final movie, she frowned at the time. Past midnight, and no sign of Adam.

*Surely he can't still be working?*

She padded upstairs and tapped lightly on his door.

Inside, Adam snapped back to reality, the spreadsheets on his screen momentarily forgotten. 

*The treatment. Damn.*

He tossed down his pen and rubbed his tired eyes. "Come in," he called, looking up as Irene stepped through the doorway.

One look at him and Irene's frown deepened. Shadows hung under his eyes, and exhaustion etched itself into every line of his face.

*This workaholic is going to crash and burn if he keeps this up.* But she bit back the lecture. He was a grown man who made his own choices, and pushing the issue would only make things awkward.

"Treatment time," she said simply, holding up her equipment.

The session went smoothly, though by the end both clearly needed sleep. As she packed up, their eyes met briefly—a moment of connection that felt oddly intimate in the late-night silence. Irene couldn't help adding: "It gets colder here at night than back home. Throw something warm on after your bath. And maybe actually sleep at some point."

Adam's expression softened slightly at her concern, a barely perceptible change that most would miss. "Got it," he replied, already reopening his laptop before she'd even turned around.

Seeing the lost cause before her, Irene slipped out without another word, though the lingering warmth of that shared glance followed her down the hall.

Hours later, sharp knocking yanked Irene from a dead sleep.

"Dr. Sterling! Dr. Sterling!" Panic edged the voice hammering at her door.

She bolted upright, momentarily disoriented before her mind cleared. The knocking grew more frantic.

"Dr. Sterling!" Thomas's voice cracked with anxiety.

Irene threw on a robe and rushed to the door. "What's happened?" she asked, finding Thomas white-faced in the hallway.

Her hair stuck out at odd angles, and sleep roughened her voice, stripping away its usual edge.

"Boss has a fever," Thomas blurted, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Irene's expression darkened instantly. She was already moving toward Adam's room, brain kicking into gear. *Where did this come from?*

Thomas hurried alongside, hands fidgeting nervously. "He did everything right, I swear. Warm clothes, hot drink, early night. His temperature was fine at bedtime."

At Adam's bedside, Irene's professional mask slipped into place. Adam looked washed out, his usual intensity dimmed to a flicker.

"My room. Medical kit on the table," she directed calmly. "Pillbox inside. Third compartment from left. Two tablets."

"On it," Thomas spun and bolted.

While waiting, Irene studied Adam silently, her trained eyes cataloging symptoms.

"Mad at me?" Adam croaked suddenly, eyes cracking open.

"Not your fault," Irene said evenly, her tone softer than previous times he'd neglected her advice.

Thomas returned, slightly breathless, with pills and water.

"Warning: these taste like garbage. Don't spit them out," Irene said as she slipped the pills into Adam's mouth, then helped him sit up enough to drink.

Adam winced at the bitterness, his usual strength nowhere to be found. Even holding the glass seemed to drain him.

"Lie him back down," Irene instructed after he swallowed.

Thomas eased his boss back against the pillows with surprising gentleness.

"Get some sleep," Irene told Thomas. "You've got work tomorrow. If you collapse too, my rates double." Her joke barely masked the kindness underneath.

She knew Thomas juggled both Adam's personal care and company fires. He needed rest.

Thomas nodded gratefully. "Just next door if you need anything."

By the time he finished speaking, Adam had already drifted off again.

After another temperature check, Irene went with the basics. She filled a bowl with ice water and grabbed some clean towels, soaking one before wringing it out and laying it across Adam's burning forehead. She repeated this process mechanically, occasionally testing his temperature with the back of her hand.

Moonlight snuck through the curtain gap, painting Adam's face in silver. Irene noticed his brow stayed furrowed even in sleep, like his brain never fully powered down.

As she replaced the cold compress, her fingers accidentally grazed his cheek. In that instant, Adam's hand shot up and locked around her wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for someone burning with fever.

Irene paused, not immediately pulling away. His eyes remained closed, but his fingers held her firmly, as if anchoring himself through the fever.

She let him hold on for a moment before gently freeing herself and continuing her work. As the night wore on, she settled into the chair beside his bed, determined to see him through until morning.

Watching Adam's face in the dim light, vulnerable in a way she'd never seen before, Irene caught herself counting his breaths. Each one seemed to pull at something buried beneath her carefully constructed walls - a dangerous feeling she'd sworn never to indulge again after the disaster with Richard.