Genius Kids' Scheme: Claiming Daddy's Billionaire Empire Chapter 202: Midnight Messages

Irene set down her empty cup, Adam's special tea working its magic on her exhausted body.

"Seriously, how can you stare at those files all day without going crazy?" She nodded at the paperwork scattered across the coffee table. "Since you hooked me up with that miracle tea, I'll save you from boredom with a chess match."

Adam's eyebrow quirked up. "Chess? You play?"

"Don't look so shocked." Irene grabbed the chess set from the bookcase. "There's more to me than just stethoscopes and scalpels."

She arranged the pieces with practiced efficiency. Adam moved first, placing a pawn with precise care. Irene countered quickly, relishing the momentary escape from the constant weight of her responsibilities.

The triplets' footsteps thundered down the stairs as they burst into the living room, bee-lining for the chess match.

"Who's winning?" Lucas dropped beside his mother, peering at the board.

"Too early to call it," Irene replied, sliding her knight across the board. "But I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Lily leaned against Adam's arm, her dark curls spilling onto his shoulder. "Who do you think's gonna win?" she asked her brothers.

"Uncle Adam, duh!" she answered her own question without waiting for them. "He's, like, a total business genius!"

Irene shot her daughter a look of mock betrayal. "Et tu, Lily? Seriously?"

Alex pushed his glasses up, squinting at the board. "Mom's crazy smart too. She could totally beat him."

"I've got it!" Lucas jumped up, practically vibrating with excitement. "Let's bet on it! Loser has to do whatever the winner wants!"

The three exchanged conspiratorial glances before announcing in perfect unison: "We bet Uncle Adam wins!"

"Wow." Irene's jaw dropped. "I'm raising a trio of little Judases. I see how it is."

Adam's mouth twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched Irene with her children. He noted the shadows under her eyes, the slight slump in her shoulders that her animated expression couldn't quite hide.

*She's been running on fumes all day, still pulling out smiles for the kids. What's one chess game compared to giving her a moment's victory?*

His next moves subtly shifted, creating vulnerabilities that looked like calculated risks rather than deliberate openings.

"Check," Irene announced, surprise coloring her voice as her bishop and knight cornered his king.

Adam frowned convincingly, as if blindsided by her strategy.

"Checkmate!" Irene's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. She swiveled toward her children with a triumphant grin. "Ha! Take that, you little traitors! Still think Mom's just a boring doctor?"

She winked playfully at the triplets, who stared at the board in shocked disbelief.

"No way!" Lucas protested, examining the pieces like they might have moved themselves.

"Let's go again," Irene challenged, energy crackling through her tired frame as she reset the board.

Adam obliged, carefully engineering another defeat. By the third game, the triplets watched with narrowed eyes, suspicion dawning on their small faces.

"Uncle Adam's throwing the game," Alex stage-whispered to his siblings, tactical genius that he was.

"That's cheating!" Lily's bottom lip jutted out. "You gotta try for real!"

Joseph chuckled from his armchair by the window, his knowing gaze meeting Adam's over the rim of his reading glasses. The old man didn't say a word—he didn't need to.

Evening shadows stretched across the dining room as dinner time approached. The smell of roasted chicken and herbs had the triplets circling the table like tiny sharks. James moved with quiet efficiency, plates appearing in his hands and disappearing onto the table in a well-practiced dance.

Joseph lingered at the foot of the stairs, eyes drifting upward toward Wesley's room. Worry etched new lines into his weathered face.

"Should we wake him?" he asked, turning to Irene. "Dinner's almost ready."

She shook her head firmly. "Sleep trumps food right now. The fact that he's out cold is actually good news—means his system's finally starting to repair itself. He'll surface when he's ready."

She pulled a small vial from her bag. "I've got this ready for when he wakes up. His body's too fragile for solid food—need to rebuild the foundation first."

Joseph squeezed her hand, gratitude swimming in his tired eyes. "You're doing too much, child."

The unspoken fear behind his words was clear as day. After a lifetime chasing success and legacy, all Joseph truly wanted now was his grandchildren whole and healthy again.

Midnight found Wesley staring at his bedroom ceiling, momentarily lost in the foreign sensation of painlessness. He blinked at the clock—nearly ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. The concept seemed impossible, like something from another lifetime.

His body felt oddly quiet, the constant wildfire that had been consuming him from the inside now reduced to barely glowing embers. His thoughts flowed clear and steady, no longer sliced by jagged edges of pain.

Thirst drove him downstairs. As he set his empty water glass on the counter, a soft glow caught his attention from around the corner. Following it, he found Irene in worn pajamas, stifling a yawn while adjusting dials on some complex medical device.

"You're awake," she said without turning, somehow sensing his presence.

"Yeah." The word came out rusty, unpracticed.

He slid onto a stool at the counter. "Why are you still up?"

"Had a feeling you'd surface around now." She placed a glass of pale blue liquid in front of him. "This is made just for you—helps rebuild what's been damaged."

She'd expected resistance. Instead, Wesley lifted the glass and drank, his hollow eyes never leaving her face.

Irene rubbed her eyes, failing to suppress another yawn. "Just leave the glass wherever. James will deal with it in the morning. I'm crashing."

She shuffled toward the stairs, exhaustion weighing down each step. Wesley watched her disappear around the corner, something flickering behind his vacant stare—a spark where there had been only emptiness for years.

For the first time since he could remember, the smothering fog of pain that had consumed his existence began to lift. In its place grew something foreign yet familiar—the simple, primal desire to live, stronger than it had been in a very long time.

He drained the last drop of the solution, rinsed the glass carefully, and returned to his room for another round of actual, restful sleep.

Irene collapsed onto her bed, her body screaming for rest. As she burrowed under the covers, her phone lit up with a message.

Adam: *Get some sleep. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground, doctor.*

A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered his intense concentration during their chess games. Why would a man who bulldozed business competitors deliberately lose three times in a row? Even with her decent chess skills, she shouldn't have swept him so completely.

*Did he really think I wouldn't notice? The same guy who eats corporate rivals for breakfast suddenly can't beat me at chess?*

Something unfamiliar fluttered in her chest as she typed a simple reply: *You too.*

She gazed out the window one last time at the light still burning in his study before switching off her lamp. As her eyes closed, it wasn't her patients' problems that followed her into sleep, but the memory of Adam's careful attention during their chess game—and the way his eyes never left her face when he thought she wasn't looking.