The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 82. Madness or Genius.

"Hillary Madeline Voss!" Nicolette gasped.

"Oh oh, full-name basis? Is that good or bad?" Hillary asked as she pulled out a chair in front of her.

"I don’t know," Nicolette admitted, rubbing her face.

A part of her wanted to stand up and scream with joy; another part wanted to knock some sense into Hillary.

What was it going to be?

She leaned against the chair, watching as Hillary studied her face.

"You have to say something, you know," Hillary said, folding her arms across her chest.

Nicolette’s eyes dropped to the file on the table, and her heart knotted with joy. The sketches were here. Wasn’t that something to be excited about?

"Thank you, Hills. I really appreciate you doing this for me," she finally said.

Hillary sighed and placed a hand on her chest. "For a moment there, I thought you didn’t like what I did."

"I like it, and then I don’t."

Hillary raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

Nicolette sighed and leaned forward. "You stole the drawings, Hills. Don’t you think Dad will know it was you?"

Hillary let out a long laugh. "No, he won’t. I was very careful."

Nicolette studied her. There was something about the glint in Hillary’s eyes that made her both intrigued and terrified.

Was this madness, or genius?

She couldn’t tell, but either way, it unsettled her nerves.

"I don’t like this," she said again.

Hillary’s mouth twisted. "You don’t like it, or you do? I’m confused, Lettie."

She sighed, trying to find the right words. "It’s just weird. I like that I have my mother’s sketches back, I just don’t like that you stole them."

"Oh, Lettie," Hillary waved her hand dismissively. "Forget all that and focus on the main event. What will you do with this?"

Nicolette picked up the file and clutched it to her chest. It felt so nice, so relieving to have it with her. It was like a piece of her mother was right there.

She could smell the musty scent of the book, the comforting kind of mustiness that reminded her her mother had once touched these pages.

Her heart raced with delight.

Her mother might be gone, and the gallery night had been destroyed, but she had this. And that was hope in itself.

"Thank you, Hills," she smiled, squeezing Hillary’s hand.

"You’re welcome. Glad I could help," Hillary said with a nod.

"Speaking of help," Nicolette said, clearing her throat, "how can I help your business without Dad finding out?"

Hillary’s shoulders slumped. "I... don’t know. At this point, I don’t think anything can happen without him knowing."

"True," Nicolette nodded. "But we can’t just let him ruin the business."

"Maybe I should just let him," Hillary shrugged.

The statement sparked a thought in Nicolette’s mind. "What if we let him ruin it... and then revive the business?"

Hillary raised a brow. "That was supposed to be a joke, Lettie."

"What if it’s not? What if—" She was cut off as the waiter arrived with her food.

"Here you go, ma’am."

Nicolette smiled. "Thank you."

As soon as the food hit the table, she realized her appetite had faded.

Once the waiter left, she turned to Hillary. "When the business goes bankrupt, you can file for bankruptcy and remove him as co-owner."

The idea might not be foolproof, but it was a start. They could build from there.

Hillary didn’t say anything. She just sat in silence.

"What do you think?"

"I don’t know, Lettie," she finally said. "It sounds so unhinged... yet like something that might work."

Nicolette raised a brow. "So what do you say? It’s not like we have any other plans."

"True," Hillary agreed. She leaned against her. "I guess we can try that."

Nicolette smiled. "Great. Order some food," she said, gesturing to the menu.

As Hillary picked it up, Nicolette’s stomach twisted. She was going to sue Ronald, and she didn’t have the guts to tell Hillary.

Not because she was afraid Hillary would tell him, but because she wasn’t sure how she would react. She didn’t want to be a bad influence on her.

Her phone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Suzie was calling, and guilt rippled through her. She had been ignoring her since yesterday.

"Hey, Suzie," Nicolette said, answering the call. "Sorry I haven’t—"

"Troy is crazy!" Suzie cut in, her voice trembling like she was crying.

Nicolette jumped to her feet, a quick thump echoing in her chest. "What happened?"

"He found our hotel room and trashed it."

"What? How?"

"I don’t know," Suzie’s voice cracked, and Nicolette’s heart shattered.

"I’m coming. Just hold on. Is Walt okay?"

Suzie sobbed. "Yes."

A wave of relief washed over her. "Alright. I’m on my way."

Hillary shot to her feet too. "What’s wrong?"

"Suzie’s in trouble. I need to get to her," Nicolette said quickly. She pulled out some cash and dropped it on the table. "Pay for the meal. I’ll see you later."

Hillary didn’t complain, she simply leaned in for a hug. "Be safe. And call me."

Nicolette headed for the exit. "Yes, sure."

"My regards to Suzie."

"Yeah," she replied without looking back. Once outside, she slid into the car. "Get me to Le Rez. Quick."

The guard nodded and started the car. Ten minutes later, they arrived at Le Rez.

Nicolette jumped out and rushed into the hotel. In the reception area, she spotted Suzie seated on a chair in the lobby, still in her work uniform — which alarmed Nicolette. Suzie was clutching Walt, their suitcases were in front of them, and Wex stood behind.

When Suzie saw her, she broke into tears.

"Hey, baby. I’m here," Nicolette said gently as Suzie collapsed into her arms.

Suzie sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Nicolette rubbed her back and looked at Wex. "What happened?"

"When we got back from the boy’s school, we found the room open and trashed, ma’am," Wex explained.

Fear gripped Nicolette’s stomach, followed closely by fury.

If Troy could find his way to their room, he must be working with someone on the inside.

She straightened up and forced a smile for Suzie. "Go wait for me in the car. We are going home."

Suzie stood, and with help from Wex and the new bodyguard, carried the suitcases outside. Once they were gone, Nicolette stormed to the front desk.

"Where is the manager?" she demanded.

"I am here," said a woman in a teal suit and glasses, stepping forward. Before Nicolette could respond, the manager raised a hand. "I know you are upset about the situation, but we are working on it, Mrs Allens."

Nicolette’s anger boiled over. "So you knew who she was to me, and you still couldn’t protect her? What’s the point of staying in a five-star hotel if your guests aren’t safe?!"

Her eyes burned as her voice echoed through the now-silent lobby, her fists clenched beside her.

"We’re sorry, ma’am," the manager said.

But she still wasn’t having it.

What if something had happened to Suzie and Walt?

What if Wex hadn’t been with them?

What if Troy had taken them? How was she supposed to find them?

Dread overtook her, choking her anger into silence. She gave the manager one final, icy glare and turned to leave.

As she walked toward the car, her thoughts raced. If Troy could find Suzie here, nowhere was safe.

Her blood boiled again—but this time, the anger was for Alaric.

If only he had answered his calls... or called back. Maybe then she would have a solution.

What next?

Then it clicked.

Richard.

Richard could help. But she didn’t have his number—Anna would.

She slid into the car. "Drive us home," she said to Wex.

Suzie sat numb beside her with Walt now asleep in her arms. Nicolette squeezed her hand but didn’t say anything.

The journey home was fast, and when they arrived, she rushed inside to get Richard’s number from Anna.

But she paused when she saw Clara sitting, legs crossed, in the living room.

Confusion filled her. "Hello?"

Clara stood up, her eyes burning with malice, her voice sharp. "You need to leave my son’s house right now!"

Nicolette blinked. "What?"

Before she could process it, two hefty men appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her.