My Milf Conqueror System

Chapter 168: The Room Upstairs

[Jake’s POV]

Sleep lasted four hours.

That was apparently progress.

Nia called it a miracle, Claire called it barely acceptable, and Darius checked my face when I entered the operations room like he expected to see steam coming out of my ears. I ignored all three of them and focused on the wall screen, where Van der Meer had become less of a building and more of a living threat.

The estate sat outside the city, old Dutch stone and high windows, surrounded by winter gardens arranged with the kind of symmetry that made violence feel inevitable. The public auction would happen in the east gallery. The Ash Room would meet upstairs in the music salon. The restoration archive sat in the west wing, climate controlled, discreetly locked, and far too perfect for holding something powerful people wanted to classify before moving.

Sofia might be there.

Or she might have already been moved again.

That possibility followed me through every briefing like a hand at the back of my neck.

Aurelia stood beside the screen, dressed in black with a pearl pin at her collar. Vivian Crossley sat near her, sipping tea like she was attending a pleasant morning committee instead of helping plan entry into a hostile social court. Margaret Hale was dressed in soft gray, elegant and political, her smile useful only to people who did not know better. Evelyn Cross was reviewing legal papers with the calm focus of a woman choosing which blade to sharpen first.

Older women had filled my tower with war.

Claire and Nia stood out among them because they were from another part of my life. My age. My college world. The world before private doctors, widow courts, and emergency signatures. Claire was at the table with her sleeves rolled up, building routes and contingencies. Nia was barefoot at the console, hair a disaster, threatening three security systems at once. They looked younger than the rest, but not softer. Never softer.

Cassandra sat beside Nia, almost hidden in her oversized grey sweater, staring at the west wing map.

"You see something?" I asked.

She startled slightly, then nodded. "The restoration archive has two entrances."

Nia frowned. "Blueprints show one."

"Blueprints show the public renovation," Cassandra said softly. "But the old floor plan has a service corridor behind the western wall. It connects to the private chapel."

Aurelia turned slowly. "The chapel?"

Cassandra’s voice grew smaller, but steadier. "Old estates used private chapels for family access. Funerals, confessions, things people wanted servants to pretend not to hear."

Vivian smiled faintly. "How grimly accurate."

Nia tapped rapidly. "She’s right. There’s a void in the wall. Modern scan missed it because someone covered the corridor during restoration."

Claire leaned closer. "If Sofia is in the archive, that corridor is how they move her without crossing the auction floor."

"Or how they already moved her," I said.

No one corrected me.

The System appeared.

[Ding!]

[Mission Objective Updated.]

[Probable Movement Route: Chapel Service Corridor.]

Objective: Confirm Sofia’s presence before Ash Room consensus.]

[Time Remaining: 13 hours, 18 minutes.]

[Penalty: Custody transfer completed.]

I looked away before my face gave too much away.

Claire still noticed.

She always did.

Aurelia stepped forward. "Roles. Jake enters with me as my guest. He stays visible in the east gallery until I release him."

"I dislike the wording."

"You are allowed to dislike it quietly."

Vivian lifted her teacup. "Growth opportunity."

Margaret continued smoothly. "I will draw the political donors toward the insurance question. Victoria will keep Charles Bancroft and the corporate men occupied. Evelyn remains with the legal group until proof is found."

"And Marianne?" Claire asked.

"She enters with Vivian," Aurelia said. "Sympathy gives her access. Rage gives her use."

Marianne, standing near the door, gave a small, humorless smile. "I prefer that to being fragile."

"You never were fragile," Vivian said. "Only underinformed."

Marianne accepted that like a wound she had decided to keep clean.

Ethan lifted a hand from the couch. "And I continue being useless here?"

Nia did not turn. "Medically accurate."

"I was asking emotionally."

"Still accurate."

He sighed. "Cruel room."

Darius stood by the wall, arms folded. "You are not going."

"I know."

"You were about to argue."

"I was preparing a speech."

"Delete it."

Ethan looked at me. "You hear how he talks to me?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He’s right."

Ethan pointed at me, betrayed. "Power has changed you."

Claire gathered the final route file and turned toward me. "No improvising unless the room changes."

"The room always changes."

"Then wait until it changes first."

Aurelia smiled. "She is good for you."

Claire froze for half a second.

I pretended not to notice, which was difficult because everyone else absolutely noticed.

Nia made a small sound.

"Do not," Claire said without looking at her.

"I said nothing."

"You breathed sarcasm."

"I have allergies."

Aurelia’s eyes moved between us, amused and far too perceptive. "How charming."

Claire ignored her.

I looked back at the map because it was safer than looking at Claire.

The plan was simple, which meant it would probably become complicated before dessert. Aurelia would get me inside. I would remain visible. Marianne, Vivian, Margaret, and Victoria would work the social court. Nia would monitor feeds from the tower. Cassandra would be positioned in a mobile van near the estate with Claire’s second team, ready to confirm any room evidence. Darius would enter as private security attached to Evelyn’s legal group, close enough to break things if necessary.

Claire would be inside as legal operations support.

Close, but not beside me.

I did not like that.

Which was probably why it was smart.

By late afternoon, the tower shifted from briefing to preparation. Clothes arrived. Cars were reassigned. Legal packets were sealed. Nia built false camera loops to counter the loops she expected someone else to build. Cassandra marked possible older estate routes on paper because she said physical maps sometimes showed arrogance digital scans erased.

I watched her draw the chapel corridor in pencil.

"You ready?" I asked.

"No."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it keeps being true."

"Still doing it?"

She nodded. "Sofia noticed things while restrained. I can notice things while afraid."

That answer stayed with me.

At six, Claire found me in my office.

I was adjusting my cufflinks and failing because my left hand was still bandaged from the lodge. She stepped in without knocking, took my wrist, and fixed the cuff herself. For a moment, the room became too quiet.

"You’re thinking too loudly," she said.

"I was thinking silently."

"Not well."

Her fingers brushed the edge of the bandage. "Jake, if she is there..."

"I know."

"No. Listen."

I did.

Claire looked up at me, eyes sharp and tired. "If Sofia is there, we get proof first. We do not touch the room until Evelyn can move. We do not start a fight in a house full of people who want an excuse to move her again."

"She might be restrained."

"I know."

"She might be drugged."

"I know."

"She might be right behind a door."

Claire’s jaw tightened, but her voice stayed steady. "And if you rush that door without knowing what is behind it, you may be the reason she disappears again."

That one landed clean.

I looked away.

Then back at her.

"You think I don’t know that?"

"I think you know it. I think you hate it. And I think hating it makes you dangerous."

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then I nodded.

"Proof first," I said.

Claire searched my face. "Say it like a promise."

"Proof first."

Her fingers loosened around my wrist.

"Good."

The System appeared.

[Ding!]

[Pre-Mission Commitment Registered.]

[Rule: Proof first.]

[Penalty for violation: Severe.]

[System Comment: Claire Montgomery has better survival instincts than Host.]**

I almost smiled.

Claire saw it and frowned. "What?"

"Nothing."

"One day that word is going to explain itself."

"Probably badly."

She stepped back, but not far. "Come back from this one without making everyone drag you out of a room."

"I’ll try."

"That was not reassuring."

"It was honest."

Her expression softened despite herself. "Annoying answer."

A knock came at the door.

Aurelia stood outside, dressed for war in emerald silk and black diamonds.

"It is time," she said.

Behind her, the tower moved.

Victoria. Margaret. Evelyn. Marianne. Darius. All ready. All dangerous in different languages.

I looked once at the photograph of Sofia on my desk. Not the restraint. Not the chair. Her eyes.

Calm. Furious. Waiting.

I turned away before it could become grief.

The cars left Apex Tower as the city entered evening. Lights came on across Manhattan. Glass towers burned gold. Somewhere ahead, Van der Meer opened its doors to collectors, widows, donors, liars, and people who thought custody could be decided over champagne.

Aurelia sat beside me in the back seat, silent until the estate lights appeared through the trees.

Then she said, "Remember, Jake. Courts do not fear men who shout."

"What do they fear?"

Her smile was small and sharp.

"Men who listen long enough to know where the crown is hidden."

The car slowed at the Van der Meer gate.

I looked through the window at the old estate waiting beyond the trees.

Proof first.

Then Sofia.

Then me.