Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 53: Midnight Search

Chapter 53: Midnight Search

Liam opened his eyes to darkness, his internal clock alerting him it was well past midnight. Beside him, Isabella slept peacefully, her breathing deep and even. Her features were softened in sleep, vulnerability replacing the sharp confidence she wore during waking hours.

He watched her for a moment, a complex mix of emotions churning inside him. The weight of Seraphina’s demands pressed down on him, but there was something else too—a desire to shield Isabella from harm.

’Focus. You have a job to do. This is for her own protection, even if she doesn’t know it yet.’

With practiced stealth, Liam slipped from beneath the covers. The cool marble floor sent a slight shiver up his spine as he stood, listening for any change in Isabella’s breathing. She stirred slightly, turning onto her side, but didn’t wake.

Moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting long shadows across Isabella’s bedroom. It was elegant yet understated, much like the woman herself—expensive linens in neutral tones, minimalist furniture, a few carefully chosen art pieces.

Liam moved silently across the room, collecting his discarded boxer briefs and slipping them on. He paused at the doorway, glancing back at Isabella’s sleeping form, before stepping into the hallway.

’Everything’s proceeding according to plan,’ he thought, satisfaction mingling with genuine concern. ’Isabella has no idea about Seraphina, and that’s exactly how it needs to stay. She’s safer in the dark about what’s really happening.’

The house was silent save for the occasional settling creak of the structure. Liam froze as he heard the distinct sound of footsteps on the lower level. Marcus. Isabella’s burly bodyguard was making his rounds.

’Damn it.’ Liam hadn’t counted on Marcus being here tonight. The man was a former military operator—observant, disciplined, and fiercely loyal to Isabella. Getting past him would complicate things.

He pressed himself against the wall, listening intently as Marcus moved below. The heavy footfalls followed a predictable pattern, but Liam noticed something different tonight—Marcus was pausing longer in each room, being more thorough than usual. Had something made him suspicious?

Liam held his breath as Marcus lingered in the foyer directly below, the floorboards creaking under his weight. After what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps finally moved toward the living room.

His phone vibrated silently in his hand. A text from Christina: "All clear at your place. Should I continue waiting?"

Liam typed back quickly: "Sorry for not updating you earlier. Staying at Isabella’s tonight. No need to wait, but stay alert for anything unusual. Will call tomorrow."

Christina responded immediately: "Roger that. Next time a heads-up would be nice. Sleep well."

When the footsteps moved toward the kitchen at the back of the house, Liam slipped down the hallway toward Isabella’s home office. He had approximately forty-five minutes before Marcus would make another round—assuming he stuck to his usual pattern tonight, which seemed uncertain.

The door to Isabella’s office was locked—not unexpected. Liam extracted a small set of picks from the lining of his wallet, making quick work of the simple mechanism. The door opened with a soft click, and he eased inside, closing it behind him.

Here, he allowed himself the small LED penlight he’d concealed. Its narrow beam illuminated the space in controlled bursts as he systematically searched the room.

The office was meticulously organized—desk drawers arranged by purpose, filing cabinet neatly labeled, bookshelf ordered by subject. Isabella’s methodical nature made his task both easier and more difficult. Easier to know where to look, harder to search without leaving evidence of his intrusion.

Liam started with the desk drawers, carefully noting the position of each item before moving it. Pens, paperclips, business cards, notepads—all mundane office supplies. The drawers revealed nothing of interest.

The filing cabinet came next. He worked his way through folders labeled with client names, project timelines, venue contracts. Everything related to Ashworth Luxury Events, but nothing that screamed importance.

Time ticked by. Twenty minutes gone.

Liam moved to the bookshelf, scanning titles, checking for hidden compartments behind rows of business and self-improvement books. Nothing.

He frowned, surveying the room again. What had Seraphina said? "That file contains everything." A file. Not necessarily paper. Could be digital.

He returned to the desk, powering on Isabella’s laptop. The screen illuminated his face with harsh blue light as it requested a password.

Liam hesitated. He wasn’t a hacker—that had never been his skill set. But he knew someone who was.

He snapped a photo of the login screen and sent it to Jack with a message: "Need in. Urgent."

Jack was a computer specialist with questionable ethics but brilliant skills. After several minutes—much longer than Liam expected—his phone lit up with a response.

"Seriously? It’s 1 AM. I’m not your 24/7 tech support. Also, I’m billing double for after-hours."

Liam quickly responded: "Triple your usual rate if you help now. Lives depend on it."

"Drama queen. Fine. Can’t crack remotely though. Need physical access or more info. Password hints? And don’t say ’try admin’ or I swear I’ll block your number."

Liam glanced around the room, searching for inspiration. His eyes landed on a framed photo on Isabella’s desk—her with an older woman, likely her mother. He tried "Ashworth" and "Isabella1" without success.

Another text from Jack: "Try personal dates. Birthdays, anniversaries. And stop sending so many attempts at once, you’ll trigger a lockout, genius."

From downstairs came the sound of a door closing, followed by footsteps that paused at the bottom of the stairs. Liam held his breath, waiting. After a long moment, Marcus moved back toward the living room instead of ascending. The routine had changed again.

’Think, think...’ Liam muttered to himself, the tension making it hard to concentrate. Then it hit him. The business. Isabella had mentioned founding Ashworth Luxury Events seven years ago, after leaving her previous job. He quickly calculated—2018.

He typed in "Ashworth2018" and held his breath.

The screen changed, desktop icons appearing as the system unlocked.

He texted Jack: "I’m in. Thanks."

Jack’s response came quickly: "Of course you are. You probably could’ve guessed that without waking me up. That’ll be $3000. Cash only. And you owe me a bottle of that Japanese whiskey."

The file directory was as organized as the physical office. Folders for clients, events, finances, marketing. Nothing obviously suspicious or hidden.

Liam opened the search function, typing "Seraphina," then "confidential," then "private," each yielding nothing useful.

Thirty-five minutes gone. From downstairs, Liam heard Marcus moving again, the pattern of his footsteps unpredictable tonight.

As Liam prepared to abandon the computer search, his eyes caught a folder labeled simply "Insurance." Innocuous enough to be overlooked, vague enough to be significant.

He clicked on it. Password protected.

’Damn it.’

Another text to Jack with a screenshot: "Secondary password. What do you think?"

Jack’s response came after a painful delay: "Are you kidding me? Again? Fine. Try same password with a symbol added. People get lazy. Like me right now. So lazy I might fall back asleep..."

Liam tried "Ashworth2018!" and was rewarded with access.

"Inside were dozens of files, each labeled with initials. JP, MR, KW, TD... And there, in a subfolder labeled ’Priority,’ was a file named ’DH.’

Liam clicked on it immediately, revealing a comprehensive dossier on someone named David Harrison. The file contained surveillance photos, financial statements, and transcripts of recorded conversations—all documenting Harrison’s elaborate fraud scheme. Page after page detailed how Harrison had been siphoning funds from his investment clients, falsifying returns, and laundering money through shell companies.

’This is serious,’ Liam thought, scanning through the meticulous evidence Isabella had gathered. The depth of Harrison’s crimes was staggering—tens of millions in investor funds diverted through a complex web of offshore accounts.

’Who is David Harrison?’ Liam wondered. ’And what’s his connection to Seraphina or to Isabella?’"

The sound of footsteps on the stairs had Liam quickly attaching a small flash drive to the computer. He selected all the files in the Insurance folder and initiated a copy.

The progress bar crawled across the screen as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Liam quietly moved to the door, listening as Marcus walked down the hallway, his pace slower and more deliberate than usual.

The file transfer reached 65%... 70%... 75%...

Marcus’s footsteps stopped outside the office door. Liam could hear the man’s breathing on the other side, the slight rustle of fabric as he shifted position. The handle turned slightly—testing if it was locked. Liam held his breath, standing perfectly still in the darkness.

A long, excruciating minute passed. The door handle jiggled again, more forcefully this time. Liam glanced at the computer screen: 85%... 90%...

"Something wrong?" Isabella’s voice, thick with sleep, came from down the hall.

"Just checking the doors, ma’am," Marcus replied. "Thought I heard something."

"Probably just the wind. It gets noisy at night."

"Yes, ma’am. Sorry to wake you."

"It’s fine. I just noticed Liam wasn’t in bed."

"I haven’t seen him, ma’am, but I’ll keep an eye out during my rounds."

"He probably went to get some water. Good night, Marcus."

"Good night, ma’am."

The footsteps moved away from the door. The file transfer completed with a soft chime that sounded deafening in the silent room. Liam quickly ejected the drive, closed all windows, and returned the computer to sleep mode.

He removed the flash drive, tucking it into the small pocket inside his boxer briefs. No time to search for physical documents now—the digital files would have to be enough.

Liam waited, listening intently for any sound of movement in the hallway. After several minutes of silence, he cracked the door open. The hallway was empty. From Isabella’s bedroom came the sound of steady breathing—she had gone back to sleep.

He slipped out of the office, relocking the door behind him, and made his way silently back to Isabella’s bedroom. His heart pounded so hard he was certain it would wake her.

Isabella hadn’t moved, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. Liam slid back into bed beside her, careful not to disturb her.

She shifted closer to him in her half-sleep, one arm draping across his chest. Liam wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close, the weight of the flash drive against his skin a reminder of what was at stake.

As Isabella’s breathing deepened again, Liam stared at the ceiling, his mind churning. He now had information that could be valuable to Seraphina, but the mysterious David Harrison file raised new questions.

’I need to protect her,’ he thought, looking down at Isabella’s beautiful face. ’No matter what it takes.’

The information he’d just discovered was like a loaded gun. In the wrong hands—in Seraphina’s hands—it could be dangerous. But in his own hands...

In his own hands, it was a shield.

And for the first time in a long career of following orders without question, Liam knew exactly what choice he would make.

He took his phone and texted Seraphina: "Let’s meet at the Dorchester Hotel."

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