The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 109 Third wheel?

Being a good talker doesn’t always beat being a good listener.

Amelia’s words held more meaning than what was said outright, and there was no way Stella could miss it. As the wife of a tycoon, Stella had met her fair share of people and seen through enough facades.

Maybe not entirely a mind-reader, but she could definitely catch hints pretty well.

She gently patted Amelia’s hand, her smile as graceful and warm as ever. "Amelia, sweetie, I’m a little tired. I’m going to head upstairs and rest. You and your brother have a nice chat."

She slowly pulled her hand back. But that barely-there rejection still stung—invisible, but sharp. Amelia felt it like a quiet, dull ache that never fully went away.

It had always been like this—distant, polite, and never quite close.

Samuel walked over, standing next to Amelia, eyes cold as he glanced sideways at her. "My mom’s not senile. You think a few sly words from just anyone can mess with her head?"

Just anyone... a few sly words...

It was yet another reminder that she didn’t belong in this house. Two decades here, and she was still an outsider in their eyes.

"Sam..."

"Sorry, you must’ve forgotten—my real sister was the one who got switched at birth."

His words hit like ice water. Amelia’s eyes turned glossy, her voice trembling. "I really don’t get it. What did I do that makes you hate me this much?"

Samuel had been halfway up the stairs but paused at that. He shot her a glance over his shoulder.

"You want to talk about what you’ve done? All the times you lied and tried to set me up? Because of you, Dad beat me twelve times with a belt. Every single time left blood. Do you seriously think I forgot that?"

Clearly done with the conversation, he turned and continued up the stairs.

But then Amelia’s voice cut through. "I saw Megan using your computer earlier. She was typing a ton of code. I don’t think she’s as sweet as she pretends to be."

Samuel’s expression darkened, but he didn’t say a word—just kept walking.

Amelia wiped away her tears, but a crooked smile crept onto her lips. Low and quiet, like a plan taking shape. She turned and left, heading back to her villa.

There, she pulled out her phone and called an unnamed number, speaking carefully, "Did someone fix those surveillance videos and test reports?"

"Yeah," the man on the line replied lazily.

Amelia tensed up. "You promised me nothing would go wrong!"

The man chuckled. "Relax. It’s not like any of it got out. No one has proof you did anything. Plus, I’ve already found someone to take the fall."

From his tone, Amelia pieced together that even if the deleted files were recovered, they didn’t prove much—only that she had been at the hospital. That alone wouldn’t hold up.

Her eyes narrowed, plan still unfolding. "Today I saw Megan on Samuel’s computer, typing all sorts of code."

Truthfully, she had no idea what those codes were, but it didn’t matter. If she could twist it, she just might get rid of the thorn in her side.

"What time was that?"

"Two thirty."

He paused, then said, "Got it."

And just like that, the call ended.

In a car, the man in the driver’s cap glanced at the person in the backseat through the rearview mirror. The man in the back seemed unusually pleased.

He ran his slender fingers around a crystal wine glass, sipping the crimson liquid slowly.

His Adam’s apple moved with that deep swallow, the sight weirdly enticing, as a mischievous grin played on his lips. "Scored two hackers in one shot."

The driver said nothing—not about the look, not about the plan. He didn’t dare.In the sunlight, the man looked sharp and handsome, with a touch of softness to his features. His lips were well-defined and slightly curled up in a half-smile. "Is everything taken care of?"

The guy in the baseball cap nodded, "Professor Banks has been brought back to the base. Boss, when do you plan to start at Meridian University under this new identity?"

Filling a crystal glass, the man lifted his eyes, calm yet intense. "Next week."

Tristan drove Megan to the hospital to visit Bernard.

As soon as they walked into the room, Bernard put down his book, his face lighting up with a warm smile. "Megan’s here!"

The last few times, Bernard hadn’t recognized Megan at all. But today was different—he actually remembered her.

Megan hurried over, sat by his bed, and gripped his hand tightly. "Grandpa, you finally know who I am!"

Bernard chuckled heartily, "Of course I do! How could I not recognize my own granddaughter? Do you think I’m just some doddering old man?"

Megan shook her head quickly. "No way. You’re not old and confused, you’re just playful. Sometimes your memories like to play hide and seek with us."

Bernard didn’t quite catch that, but just seeing Megan made him visibly happy.

He looked at her closely. "You’ve grown up so much. You’re more elegant every time I see you."

Then his gaze shifted past her to the tall, straight man standing just behind. "And who’s this young man?"

Megan stood up and grabbed Tristan’s hand, raising it to shoulder level. "This is Tristan. You picked him yourself to be your grandson-in-law."

"My taste has always been top-notch," Bernard said without a hint of modesty. "He does remind me of myself back in the day." Then he frowned slightly. "But how exactly did I pick him again?"

Sure enough, his memory was still fuzzy.

Tristan smiled, "You and my grandfather, Geoffrey, agreed on the engagement."

Bernard muttered the name under his breath. Just as everyone assumed he’d lost the thread, he suddenly slapped his thigh. "That old fox still owes me a bottle of ’62 Lafite!"

Geoffrey scoffed: "You’re joking! A dusty wine crate outranks me now?"

Megan laughed softly. "Grandpa, Brandon, the third son of the Lewis family, will come to check on your health the day after tomorrow."

Bernard rubbed his temples. "What illness do I even have?"

"Just some memory lapses. Nothing serious," Megan said gently, knowing full well he wouldn’t remember the full truth anyway. Telling him would just make him worry.

Though silent for a while, Bernard soon started chatting with Megan again like his old self.

After Megan and Tristan left, he turned to the male nurse. "Bring me my journal."

The nurse pulled it out from the bottom drawer of the bedside table and handed it over, placing a pen beside it too.

Bernard took the pen and wrote with firm, steady strokes.

He closed the journal and handed it back. "Keep it safe. If I’m ever... gone, give it to my granddaughter Megan. No one else is allowed to see it."

The nurse nodded solemnly, "You have my word."

Tristan and Megan made their way to Room 5 on the seventh floor—today was Nathan’s discharge day.

When they stepped in, Nathan was already fully dressed in a sharp suit, standing proud by the hospital bed.

For once, he was smiling—which was unusual. In Tristan’s memory, his father had always been serious, barely cracking a smile.

"You two made it," Nathan said.

Tristan gave a slight nod. "Megan and I are here to take you back to Dreamscape Manor."

Nathan waved a hand. "No need. I won’t crash your couple time. Gramps should head home too—he’s been playing third wheel long enough."

"Third wheel?" A voice cut through the air like gravel. "Who’s calling me spare parts?"