Chapter 2 - The Art of Tactical Warfare
The first night was a psychological battlefield. Claire slept with one eye open, expecting everything from saran wrap on the toilet bowl to live firecrackers under her bed. Instead, the house remained eerily quiet.
At 6:00 AM, her phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime call from her mother, who was watching Lily back in Queens.
Claire answered quickly, her heart aching as her daughter’s bright face filled the screen. "Hi, my sweet girl."
"Mommy! Are you at the big castle?" Lily asked, her chin resting on her hands. "Did you meet the princes?"
"They aren't exactly princes, Lilypad," Claire smiled gently, keeping her voice low. "More like three little gremlins. But Mommy is doing just fine. Are you being good for Grandma?"
"Yes! We made pancakes. Mommy, are you coming home soon?"
Claire felt a familiar pang of guilt, a heavy weight in her chest. "Very soon, baby. Just two days. I love you so much."
As she hung up, she noticed a shadow blocking the light beneath her bedroom door. She walked over and yanked it open. Noah was standing there, holding a plastic cup filled with live earthworms. He looked startled, clearly caught mid-prank.
"Looking for a place to put those?" Claire asked, crossing her arms.
Noah recovered his smirk quickly. "They like to sleep in pillows. We thought your pillow looked lonely."
Claire knelt down so she was at eye level with him. She didn't yell. She didn't look disgusted. Having raised Lily alone, she knew the difference between a child acting out because they were malicious, and a child acting out because they wanted a reaction.
"You know, Noah, when I was managing a hotel in Queens, we had a guest who brought a box of pet lizards. They escaped into the lobby. Do you know what I did?"
Noah blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I didn't scream. I didn't run. I caught every single one of them with my bare hands, put them back in the box, and charged the guest a five-hundred-dollar cleaning fee." Claire reached out and gently took the cup of worms from his hand. "These are great for the garden. Let's go put them outside before breakfast."
Noah stood frozen as Claire walked past him down the hallway. He ran to the balcony where Caleb and Miles were waiting.
"Did she scream?" Caleb whispered eagerly.
"No," Noah murmured, looking thoroughly bewildered. "She talked about lizards. I think she's crazy."
By noon, the triplets had elevated their tactics. They set up a tripwire made of fishing line across the main staircase. Claire spotted it immediately, thanks to the afternoon sun catching the clear wire. Instead of cutting it or yelling for Adrian, she pulled a roll of bright red duct tape from her suitcase—a tool she always kept for emergency hotel repairs—and taped a massive arrow on the floor pointing directly to the wire, labeling it: TRAP #2: POOR VISIBILITY. 3/10.
When the boys came out to check on their trap, they found Claire sitting on the bottom step, reading a book.
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"Your knots are loose," Claire said without looking up. "If I had hit that at full speed, the wire would have snapped before I even tripped. If you're going to build a trap, do it right. Ask your dad for heavy-duty nylon string next time."
Adrian, who was walking down the corridor toward his study, stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the red duct tape, then at Claire, and finally at his three sons, who were looking at her with a mixture of horror and profound respect.
