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My husband accidentally sent me a text meant for his cousin. "Kempinski Hotel. Room 441." I stood outside the door, camera in hand, my mind went blank. All I could hear were moans—growing louder, sharper. Then they saw me. My knees went out, I turned to run. But a powerful arm yanked me into another suite, plunging me into darkness. The Wolf King, deep in his mating frenzy, pinned me with a burning gaze. "He doesn't deserve you, baby. I do, I want to f*ck so bad." His scorching chest was marked with a wolf tattoo, vines of ink twisting over his shoulders and down his arms. That night, I made the worst—and most inevitable—decision of my life. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jessica’s POV Alpha Johan cupped my jaw gently, thumb brushing the corner of my lip before he lowered his head and murmured, “Jessica, are you ready to be marked tonight?” "Y-Yes." I nodded faintly, smelling our mixed arousal. I had been waiting for this night, clinging to his promise that he would finally claim me. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through my ribs. He leaned closer, his mouth brushing my neck. I gasped when his lips pressed to my skin and I felt the faint scrape of his teeth. But then he suddenly pulled away. His gray eyes went distant, and his pupils glowed a faint silver when a mindlink came through. It was my stepmother, Lydia. “Where are you, Johan? You’re supposed to be with your mate right now?” My mind spun in confusion. What mate? Who was she talking about? Most wolves couldn’t hear someone else’s private link, but I could. My late mother used to say our bl00d carried a rare gift, the Seer’s Gene. That’s why I can slip into others’ links when my emotions run high. Lydia hissed, "Deal with Suzette before she finds out that you took in that tattered doll. My daughter is dying, Johan. She can't stand any stress." Johan let go of my waist and turned his back to me, water running down his shoulders. His voice was low when he answered her. "I won’t break my promise. Just give me a few hours. I’m not abandoning Suzette. She’s my love." Those words hurt worse than any silver chain ever had. The warm water started to sting, and my chest felt tight. I couldn’t tell if I was crying or if it was just the shower. Lydia’s voice came again, "Suzette needs you right now. She is very ill." Johan’s jaw clenched. “I’m coming.” The link snapped closed. He sighed, then turned toward me. I wiped my face fast so he wouldn’t see. “You okay, babe? You look pale.” “I’m fine,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t. He smiled, the kind that said he wanted to continue what we started. “Sorry about that,” he said. “My Beta brought news at the wrong time.” He stepped closer, but then my eyes caught the mark on Johan's collarbone, a faded crescent b!te glowing faintly beneath the droplets of water. A mate mark? I froze. His touch made my stomach twist. The scent that once comforted me now made me sick. “I don’t feel well,” I said. The disgust in my voice cracked the air between us. He frowned, confused and still breathing hard. “Should I call the healer?” I shook my head, too shocked too even think of what to do. Before he could say more, another link came through. “My love, feel so dizzy. The pack doctor is here already but I need you. I need only you.” Johan’s jaw tightened. "I'll be there in a minute." When the link ended, he looked down at me again. He thought I didn’t know. “Something came up at the Council Hall,” he said quickly. “Finish your shower and rest. I’ll send someone to guard you.” He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist, and left. The door slammed shut. I knew exactly where he was going, and exactly whose bed he would end up in. Suzette. My own half sister. Johan was already mated to her, and I had been too blinded by love to see it. Since when. Goddess, since when?! As I covered my naked self with my trembling hands, I couldn't help but recall the past. Suzette, together with her mother Lydia, used to torture me ten years ago. It wasn't just a simple torture. They locked me in a rusted iron cage and forced my first shift out of me in the most brutal way a young wolf could experience. Bones snapping, skin tearing, my wolf screaming inside me while they watched like it was entertainment. But one moonless night, I broke free with every ounce of strength left in my battered body. Torn, bruised, and half-shifted, I didn’t make it far before collapsing at the feet of a visiting Alpha, Johan Vale. In that moment, it felt like he was a savior sent by the Moon Goddess herself. He carried me away, tended to my wounds, and swore that from then on, I was his to protect, his family, his promise under the moon. I turned off the shower. My hands were shaking as I wrapped the towel around me and stood by the window, looking at the full moon. I didn’t know what to do now, but something clicked inside me when I remembered something. I wiped my tears and opened my mindlink. "D-Dahlia? Are you hearing me now?" She responded immediately. “Jessica?” “I accept your offer, Moon Seer Dahlia,” I said softly. “I’ll join the Silvercrest Healing Dominion. I’m leaving Johan for good.” Chapter 2 The Awakening Jessica’s POV “It took you long enough, child,” the Moon Seer said through the mindlink. I first met Dahlia during a grand pack gathering where the Moon Seer was invited as an honored guest. We talked between ceremonies, her questions sharp yet kind, and before the night ended, we exchanged mindlinks out of mutual fascination. From then on, we spoke often, sharing thoughts, lessons, and secrets until our friendship became my quiet refuge. “I always wondered when you’d realize that Alpha Johan was never meant for you. You’ve been wasting your gift on a man who only saw you as a rebound.” “Rebound,” I repeated. The word rebound cut sharper through the link than any blade. “I told you before, Jessica. I warned you, but you never believed me.” “I think I knew all along,” I admitted softly through the link. “I just didn’t want to face it. I kept telling myself he had forgotten Suzette.” “I’m happy you’re finally leaving him,” Dahlia said next. “You have so much potential, Jessica. Even if Johan gave you a position in his pharmaceutical empire, you’d never grow there. He was hiding you, using your formulas, your genius, and letting LunaSkin Bloom take all the credit.” I’d told myself I was helping him, building something together. But now I saw it clearly. He’d been building himself using my light. “Why now, though?” Dahlia asked curiously, her tone turning softer in my head. “Why wake up from a one-sided bond only now?” My chest ached. “Because he had marked another she-wolf as his mate.” The link went quiet. Dahlia’s curiosity deepened. “Why?” “Because she’s dying.” The words tasted strange on my tongue. The seer’s sigh came softly through the link. “Ah. So the Moon Goddess has cursed her own deceit.” I swallowed hard. “He swore before the Council that he would care for her until her final full moon. He said he owed her that, for the mistakes of their youth. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” “No,” Dahlia agreed quietly. “It never does.” After we spoke, my eyes drifted to the Moonstone Charm Chain hanging by the hearth. It was made from stones I gathered under each full moon while praying for Johan to recover. Yes, recover. Because three years ago, he had gone after rogues and came back torn and poisoned by silver. I begged the Dark Spirit Healer to save him, even if it cost me everything. I gave her my soul-bone, something no wolf should ever give away. Without it, I could no longer shift. But at least, he lived. And he promised that in our tenth year, he would make me his Luna. When he was healed, he forged the moonstone charm into a chain, saying it symbolized devotion. Now, it only mocked me. When I reached to take it down, my elbow bumped a photo frame. The glass shattered, reve@ling two photographs inside. Two? I crouched to gather the fallen pictures. One showed Johan and me, taken a decade ago on the night he swore I was his forever. But the second photo stole the breath from my lungs. It was Suzette and Johan. Suzette’s smile glowed beneath the moonlight, while Johan stood behind her with one arm draped around her waist, his eyes shining with the tender devotion I once believed belonged to me. Below the photo, scrawled in Johan’s bold script: Farewell, my love. The date was marked beside the night of Johan’s healing under the full moon. That was hours later when he arrived at my door with a bouquet of moonroses and declared me as his intended mate. My fingers trembled as I held the photo. All of Johan’s tenderness over the years turned to ice in that single breath. I wiped my face and forced myself to move. As I threw on a shirt and leggings, I couldn’t help but ask this: Why would he mark me if he already had a mate? I chuckled bitterly. Of course it was because of LunaSkin. I was the mind behind his empire, the hidden pulse that made his name shine among the packs. It was his way of keeping me close, tying his fortune to the hand that built it. And bonds forged for protection didn’t always awaken the mate’s pain. If he had marked me, it would register as a business claim, not a fated one. Besides, if he marked me first, he could claim me later without his other mate suffering. The law of dual claim recognized the first mark as “legal,” as long as it was done for alliance. When I opened my wardrobe, I chose only the things I had bought with my own money. I packed them neatly into a suitcase and tucked it away from sight, ready for the day I’d finally walk away. Then my eyes landed on my jewelry box. Without hesitation, I called the jewelry store and asked them to collect the pieces and return them to Johan on the date I set. When the jewelry box was gone, I gathered every gift he’d ever given me and carried them behind the manor. The servants stared, puzzled, but no one dared ask questions as I dumped them into the tra$h. That night, I tried to sleep, but sleep never came. By morning, I forced myself to look calm. I was having breakfast on the patio when Johan returned, looking like someone who had lost the war before it began. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, but I didn’t feel the flutter I once did. Before, I would’ve thrown myself into his arms. Now, I just sat still. “Are you okay?” Johan asked casually. “Did you sleep well?” I didn’t sleep at all. “Yes, I’m fine,” I said instead. He sat across from me and reached out to touch my face. I nearly slapped his hand away but stopped myself. I couldn’t stand being touched by a man who was already mated. “You seem pale,” he said. “What’s wrong, Jessica ?” He paused, then chuckled lightly. “Oh, I know what it is. Our night didn’t finish, did it? I was supposed to mark you for our tenth anniversary.” His lips curled into a mischievous smile. “We can resume it tonight. What do you think?” I smiled politely. “I don’t think I’m in the right shape, Johan.” He frowned. “Oh, I must’ve made you upset. Okay, if you don’t want that, how about this. Tomorrow is the launch of our newest beauty line, LunaVeil Essentials. Why don’t you come with me? They will finally meet Silverhand, the chemist behind our bestseller.” I paused, my attention caught completely. Was he really serious? He had never invited me before to any launching. “Are you sure?” I asked quietly. “You’re finally reve@ling me?” Before he could answer, my phone buzzed. I frowned at the unknown number, and Johan’s brow furrowed when he noticed. “Who’s calling you?” he asked. Chapter 3 The Launch Of Lies Jessica’s POV I froze, my heart dropping when I saw the number flashing on my screen. The digits belonged to the Dark Spirit Healer, a creature no one in their right mind wanted to deal with, not even Moon Healer Dahlia. He was the one who’d helped Johan survive three years ago. But why was he calling me now? Our deal had ended long ago. “Probably some werewolves pretending to be seers trying to sell charms,” I shrugged. Johan looked up from his tea, unconcerned. “I’ll have my Beta change your number tomorrow. I’m sick and tired of people pretending to be real, but the truth is, they’re fake,” I stared at him. Coming from you, really? Before I could reply, his eyes glazed slightly, the sign of a mindlink connection. His aura shifted, distant and private, and his jaw tensed. “I’ll… speak with my Beta,” he muttered quickly, standing from his seat. “Give me a moment.” He walked toward the terrace, pretending calm, his mind still locked in conversation. I reached for my moonstone mirror, a relic Dahlia had once gifted me. Through it, I could capture and relive anything I saw or heard beyond myself. I activated the mirror, and the enchanted glass began to record everything I was hearing now. “Johan,” Suzette’s voice purred through the invisible thread. “Tomorrow’s the LunaSkin Bloom launch, right? Can I come? I heard that you’re the alchemist behind it, the creator of the perfect formula.” Johan glanced in my direction as if guilty, then quickly looked away and gave a shy, uneasy laugh. “Actually—” “Oh, come on,” Suzette teased. “No one else could craft something that perfectly complements your company’s vision. Every masterpiece there has your mark.” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted bl00d. LunaSkin was my d@mn formula. After Johan rescued me and brought me to his manor, I forced myself to learn everything about his world. I observed how his company worked, the markets, the formulas because I never wanted to be a burden. I wanted to be better, to help him grow his empire. Every formula, every potion, every scent I had bled, worked, and poured my soul into those creations. And LunaSkin became their breakthrough product. "But you know what, love...?" Suzette’s voice turned coy. “I’ve always wanted to be known for something great, as well. Since my illness is in the terminal stage, I want to achieve something before I die.” Johan frowned from afar. “What do you mean, love?” “I mean, can you introduce me as the creator of LunaSkin?” I was taken off guard when I heard Suzette’s bold request. I didn’t see that one coming. How could she even think of that? My hands trembled around the moonstone mirror as I stared at Johan from afar. “You know it’s risky, Suzette. But… fine,” Johan finally said. “Tomorrow, before the Council and the packs, I’ll tell them you’re the controversial chemist blessed by moonlight itself. That should please your wolf’s pride, right?” Suzette’s delighted laugh rang through the link. “I knew you wouldn’t say no to me. I love you, Johan.” My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. I let out a quiet, bitter laugh that hardly sounded human. Suzette had already taken everything from me, She and her mother took my father, and my pack. And now she was stealing the only thing I had left: my talent. How greedy of her, of them both! I closed my eyes, fists trembling. Then I reopened my own mindlink, summoning the very creature I once swore I’d never speak to again. "Hey..." I whispered, my eyes shut. “Well, well,” the Dark Spirit Healer’s voice slithered into my head, mocking and cold. “The wolf who gave her soul-bone for love finally calls. Want me to take him instead?” “I need your help,” I whispered back. “Just one favor, and I’ll pay whatever it takes.” “Didn’t you say you’d die for him once?” the Healer laughed. “What changed?” “Everything.” My voice was sharp, steady. “Do we have a deal or not?” A pause. Then a dark chuckle. “Deal. Tell me what you need.” I gave my instructions clearly. When I severed the link, Johan walked back to me. “Jessica ,” he said slowly, “I’m sorry, but you can’t attend the launch tomorrow.” “Why not?” I acted as though I was surprised. “Your identity has to stay secret. My beta said the rival companies will attend and it will be dangerous for you to come out.” he said. “Please understand. I looked at him for seconds and until I exhaled nonchalantly. “Okay.” He blinked, clearly not expecting my cold reaction. But then he said with a forced smile, “After tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you whatever you want.” I smiled faintly. What I wanted now wasn’t his affection. The day of the event finally arrived. I dressed in a moon‑white gown, bound my hair, and left for the LunaSkin launch. The hall was crowded with pack leaders, nobles, and journalists. And there Suzette was, clinging to Johan’s arm, radiant and smug. The mark of their bond glowed proudly on her neck. Johan looked at her the way he used to look at me. I smiled coldly and lifted my chin. "It's showtime." Heads tilted, eyes widening as I passed by as my moon‑white gown shimmered under the lantern light, hugging every graceful line of me. My hair framed my face like liquid gold, and even the nobles’ mates paused in their conversation, watching the woman who walked like she owned the moon itself. Johan’s head snapped toward me, shock flashing across his face, the exact reaction I expected. His eyes widened, mouth parting slightly as if words failed him. The sight almost made me smile; after all, it was satisfying to watch guilt and surprise war in his expression. He tore his arm from Suzette’s grasp and strode over, while my stepsister’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment as whispers rippled through the hall. When Johan was in front of me, he grabbed my wrist and steered me toward a shadowed corner of the hall, away from the curious eyes and murmuring crowd. "Jessica , Why in the moon are you here?" Chapter 4 The Night I Was Stolen Again Jessica’s POV Johan’s grip tightened on my wrist as he dragged me into the corner of the grand hall. He had never grabbed me this roughly before, not even during our worst arguments. For the first time, his composure cracked, and I caught the flash of panic hiding behind the silver in his eyes. And all because I showed up. I raised my face to him. “Is that fear I smell, Alpha?” Then I saw the realization hit him first. His nostrils flared. His chest rose sharply as his wolf stirred awake, smelling the LunaSkin Bloom perfume in my skin. “Jessica,” he warned, hissing in my ear, “What are you trying to do? Why are you wearing that scent?” I leaned in slightly, letting the perfume coat him like memory. “Why not? This is my creation. LunaSkin isn't just a perfume. It's me.” He clenched his jaw and looked toward the stage, where Suzette was speaking to the crowd, then turned his gaze back to me. “You’re not supposed to be here. This is Suzette’s night. You’ll only humiliate yourself.” “Then why do you look like you’re about to fall apart?” I asked softly. He turned his head slightly, and I knew he was going to mindlink someone the way his eyes glazed over for a second. "Beta Kain, get her out of here, quietly. Send her home before anyone notices.” My smile vanished. “Don’t you dare send me home,” I said aloud, cutting through his thoughts. “This is my event.” He froze. The shock in his eyes told me he knew I’d heard everything. And that was when Suzette noticed. My stepsister glided down from the stage in her silver gown. Her arm looped through his as if she were claiming him in front of the world. Watching the two of them together made my chest ache, and my wolf snarled softly beneath my skin. “Jessica, I didn’t expect you here. You should’ve let the guards know you were visiting, so they could e$cort you back to whatever corner of obscurity you crawled out of,” she cooed, tilting her head. "Showing up uninvited just proves how desperate you are to cling to relevance.” I didn't respond to her insults. I knew they were coming afterall. And now, my perfume has reached her too. Her nose twitched, her pupils constricted slightly, and then she glared at me, her lips curling. “Wait, why are you wearing that perfume? Why are you using my creation?" I chuckled bitterly. “You mean my creation?” Suzette’s eyes flashed as she sneered. “Darling, I think you’re confused. LunaSkin Bloom is mine. And you’re stealing it." "I will never steal something that belongs to me," I whispered, raising a brow. Suzette chuckled, staring at me from head to toe. "Pathetic little thing, pretending to be a creator when all you ever did was steal!" The crowd turned toward us, murmuring as whispers spread through the hall, the sound undercut by low growls and restless rustles as wolves fought their instincts to bare teeth or bow. “What did she say?” “Stole it?” “Isn’t LunaSkin the Vale empire’s flagship perfume?” “The girl seems like she couldn’t do such a thing,” another voice whispered. “She looks too innocent to be accused of stealing.” Suzette’s fury boiled over. “Fine!” she shouted, turning toward the crowd. “Let me enlighten you all. This woman’s name is Jessica, the b@stard daughter of my father and his mistress. We threw her out ten years ago for her disgraceful behavior. And now she dares to stand here claiming my husband’s best-selling perfume as hers? How could someone like her, who has never set foot in a lab or a healer’s den, possibly create anything of value?” My hands curled into fists, claws aching to break through my skin. The nerve of this woman, talking as though what they did to me had been my fault? When in truth I had nearly died in that house. In that cage in particular. I swallowed the fire rising in my chest and let a sharp, icy smile curve my lips. “Luna Suzette, you accuse me of theft just because of who I am. Don’t you think that’s rather arrogant? For all you know, I might’ve built my own name and power over the past ten years.” Suzette let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed across the hall. “You? Build a name for yourself? Oh, that’s adorable,” she taunted. With a dramatic flick of her curls, she faced the crowd and spread her arms proudly. “Everyone here knows this event celebrates the LunaSkin Bloom line created by the mysterious Alchemist. Well, guess what? I’m the Alchemist of LunaSkin. That scent she’s flaunting is mine. And my mate can confirm every word.” Gasps rippled through the hall. “What? Luna Suzette is the Alchemist?” “Alpha Johan, is that true? She’s the one behind LunaSkin Bloom?” Reporters pushed closer, flashes bursting like lightning as questions fired from every direction. I ignored them all, keeping my gaze fixed on Johan. My fingers clenched the silk of my gown until the fabric strained between my hands. What now, Johan? Are you really going to stand there in silence? After everything we’ve been through, will you not defend me even once? Johan gulped as my mindlink cut through him. His guilt was written across his face, plain for everyone to see. But then Suzette cupped his face, forcing him to meet her teary eyes. “Love?” she whispered, trembling just enough for sympathy to bloom around her. "Please don't let me down." He hesitated, then forced a strained smile for the cameras. “Y-Yes. Suzette is the Alchemist. She’s been the mind behind LunaSkin Bloom for the past ten years.” The words pierced like claws through my chest. No one knew better than he did how much of myself I had poured into those formulas. And now, without a blink, he handed it all to her. Fine. So be it. Suzette’s grin widened as the cameras flashed. “You all heard it. That scent is my work. Which means Jessica stole it. She probably took other formulas too.” She snapped her fingers sharply. “Warriors! Check her. See if she’s hiding the notes of my other perfume formulas on her body. I wouldn’t put it past her to smuggle my secrets like a common rogue thief!" Two warriors immediately seized my arms and slammed me onto the cold marble floor. With a sharp rip, my dress strap tore open, exposing my back. The crowd gasped, horror spreading as they saw the long, faded whip scars running down my spine, proof of the cage, of the past I could never hide. As I struggled against the warriors’ hold, trying to free myself, I noticed a man standing among the guests, his gaze locked solely on me. He clenched his wine glass so tightly that it shattered in his hand. Bl00d dripped down his fingers, red against the white shards, while his glowing eyes fixed on me with barely restrained rage. Who could he be? Chapter 5 The Scars I Tried To Hide Jessica's POV “Release me! This is a violation of pack law!” I thrashed against the warriors’ iron grips. From my humiliating position on the floor, my gaze locked onto Johan. “Can you truly look me in the eyes and claim Suzette created LunaSkin with her own hands?” I stared at him. "You said you'd never let them hurt me again. So why are you letting them?" "J-Jessica..." Johan stood frozen, caught between stepping forward and staying back, as if debating whether to help me or pretend I wasn’t there at all. But Suzette clung to his arm, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “Love, I feel dizzy...” Her voice trembled just enough to sound pitiful. Her timing was perfect, making Johan attend to her. Of course he would do that. Suzette was terminally ill, after all. She was his Luna now, his burden to bear, his excuse to abandon me again. He forced the guilt down and lifted his chin. “Suzette is the Alchemist. My mate. She’s the one behind LunaSkin Bloom.” The lie sliced through me sharper than claws. The crowd gasped. Flashes from reporters burst across the room like lightning. All around, murmurs stirred the room like wind before a storm. “She stole it?” “Isn’t she the one they kicked out?” “Poor Alpha Johan, having to deal with this embarrassment.” My throat burned. Even after he mated with Suzette behind my back. Even after I vowed to forget him. Even now, I had hoped, foolishly, that he’d speak the truth. But no. My wolf paced furiously inside me, her fur bristling. I’d trusted him once. I’d let him see every raw, broken part of me. And now he was ripping it all away. Suzette turned to the warriors. “Search her body. I want every inch checked. She might’ve hidden the rest of my perfume formulas.” "Rightaway, Luna." I kicked and twisted, desperate not to let them strip more of my dignity. "Stop!" I growled, still resisting. I wasn’t just being searched. I was being erased. Again. Stripped of dignity. Painted as a l!ar. Even when my very scars screamed the truth. My eyes snapped toward Johan as I shot a mindlink straight into him. "How dare you stand there and pretend you don’t know me? Pretend you don’t know what I’ve survived?" His throat bobbed. Guilt flickered in his eyes before he masked it. “If you’re not hiding anything, Jessica, then you have nothing to fear.” “I—If I’m not hiding anything?” I let out a laugh. Cold. Empty. A smile that wasn’t a smile at all. He didn’t need to explain. His words said it all. He wouldn’t fight for me. Murmurs broke out. Some recoiled. Some whispered. “She looks like she’s been mauled…” “How could anyone survive that?” “Disgusting.” “That’s enough,” Johan snapped, eyes cutting away. “Take her backstage. Search her thoroughly.” A hot rush of shame and fury exploded in my chest. He gave the order. Not to shield me. But to shut me away like I was a threat to contain. He wasn’t just letting them humiliate me. He was validating it. His command wasn’t to stop the scene. It was a message: I didn’t matter enough to defend. But I wouldn't let them treat me like I was less than nothing ever again. Not while my wolf howled inside me, begging to be set free. Not while my dignity bled across this marble floor. Heavens above, what manner of cruelty is this? I should not suffer like this. I d@mn well should not. I rose slowly. The warriors stilled, stunned. Even the air held its breath. “If the Alpha believes I’m hiding something,” I said, voice sharp enough to cut steel, “then why drag me behind curtains like some banished rogue?” “You want me bare?” “So be it.” I grabbed what was left of my moon-silver dress, ripped and u$eless, and tore it away from my body. Gasps erupted instantly. My undergarments clung to my body, but what truly caught their eyes were the lash scars painting my back and legs like a grotesque mural. The hall swelled with murmurs. “Oh moon goddess, what happened to her?” “Those marks aren’t from any normal punishment.” “Was she tortured?” The cameras clicked and flashed, capturing my pain as if it were a spectacle. My stare was fixed like steel on Johan and Suzette. "Remember this day, you paraded me as a criminal." Then I released my mirrorstone. It dropped to the marble floor with a sharp clack, and in the blink of an eye, it flashed, glowing with a blinding light. Everyone froze, eyes wide, jaws slack. The light flickered once, then projected a massive moving image into the air, followed by a video playback. The whole room fell quiet, eyes glued to the air as the truth played out in front of them, undeniable and clear. Chapter 6 This Pain Has A Witness Now Jessica's POV The video played, and in an instant, I was no longer standing in a ballroom, I was back in that cold, dark dungeon. It was like I was being crushed all over again. I hated that I had to see this again. My wolf whimpered deep inside me as my tears pricked the edges of my vision. On screen, Suzette dragged my younger self by the hair across the damp stone floor of the Alpha's dungeon, my heels scraping, my wrists bound in wolfsbane-laced silver. She didn’t say a word, and just slammed my head into the sharp corner of a chained collaring post, once, twice, until the world spun. Bl00d splattered onto the iron, dripping like ink from a shattered pen. I tasted metal, and a piercing ring filled my ears, muting everything except my shallow, ragged breaths and Suzette’s gleeful laugh. “You’re the bad luck that cursed our family! You should’ve died with your mother, so my father would’ve only seen me and Mom! Now that he’s gone, I have no reason to fake kindness anymore!” She yanked my hair again and slammed my head once more against the iron bars, over and over, until I dropped like a sack of bones, dazed and wrecked. My back, already flayed from the wolfsbane-laced whip, had turned into one seeping wound. But she didn’t care. The whip rose again. “Go to h3ll!” “AHHH!” My cries morphed into a growl, my canines flashing briefly. My wolf surged, clawing at my insides, trying to surface, her rage mirroring mine. My limbs trembled violently as I tried to shift, to defend myself. I was seconds away from letting her take over. But then... Suzette, sneering, approached with gloved hands and sprinkled mountain ash over my ruined back. My wolf yelped and recoiled, retreating into the depths of my soul, her fury snuffed out like a flame doused in snow. Then Lydia entered, not looking alarmed. Even though I knew she didn't care for me, I still dragged myself toward her, “Mother, please… please stop her,” I begged, crawling closer despite the fire ripping through my body. "I’ve always tried to be a good daughter. I did everything to make you and the Pack proud. I obeyed every rule, followed every command just to earn your approval. Why are you letting her do this to me? Why are you letting your own daughter tear me apart?" Bl00d blurred my vision. My tears mixed with it. But Lydia didn’t even blink. Without warning, Lydia kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me sprawling back onto the cold stone floor. “If it weren’t for you, our true daughter wouldn’t have suffered all those years. Let Suzette have her way. If you really love us, prove it in silence.” She turned and smiled at Suzette, her tone clipped. "Don’t let yourself be heavily stained," she added with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "We have a pack gathering to attend to." Suzette dropped the whip with a sneer. “Fine. I’ll finish her later." She turned to the guards circling me and sneered, "Bring more mountain ash." I barely lifted my hand, reaching for the hem of her dress, but Suzette drove her heel into my forehead, the blunt impact making my skull throb. Before I could recover, she struck again, harder this time, straight into my abdomen. A nauseating jolt exploded through my gut as bile surged up my throat. "No, please. Don’t…" I gasped. Suzatte glared at the warriors. "What are you all waiting for? The mountain ash!" They all pinned me. The guards dumped the ashes on my shredded back. My scream ripped through the projection. Gasps filled the room. I looked up just in time to see Johan reel backward, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles turned white. His shoulders trembled, not with rage, but disbelief. He had once dressed those wounds, tracing every scar with care, whispering comfort. But now he knew the truth. He staggered back from Suzette like she’d burned him. "You did this? It was you all along?" “That video isn’t real! It’s all staged!” Suzette cried out. “There were never any cameras in that dungeon!” I laughed, sharp, bitter. “Cameras are nothing compared to the moon mirrorstone. Maybe it was given to me for a reason, so it could protect me when no one else would.” Lydia glared at me. “Jessica, I raised you like my own daughter, even after your mother betrayed me and had an affa!r with my husband. I chose to keep you, love you, even when the whole Pack whispered behind my back. And this is how you repay me? By humiliating our family in front of the entire kingdom?” Suzette gripped her mother’s hand, as she leaned closer. "Please remain calm, Mother. Please relax, don’t take this so much to heart.” I dug my nails deep into my palms, trying to anchor myself to the present. How could they still deny it? After everything they’d done, even with the truth staring them in the face, they twisted it as if it was a bent metal. Then... A tall figure emerged from the double glass door. A scar traced his cheek. His gaze landed on me. My shoulders, my scars. His throat bobbed. “Who are you?” Johan demanded.
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Chapter 1 Kicked Out of the Chaney Family Genevieve Chaney was suddenly told that she wasn't her parents' biological child. "You should leave. We've found our real daughter now." A bitter sigh escaped Genevieve's lips. Since her childhood, her parents, who now turned out to be her foster parents, had been abusive, her foster mother in particular. Had she not been raised in this place since infancy, she might have questioned her parentage sooner. It all started when Alora Chaney appeared at their doorstep a few days ago. The girl burst into tears, insisting she was the Chaneys' true daughter. The Chaneys didn't believe her, so Alora dragged her father Samuel Chaney to the hospital for a paternity test. The results confirmed her claim: Alora was indeed his daughter, while Genevieve wasn't. Strangely, this brought relief. Finally, Genevieve could escape their torment. "I'm leaving now. Save your breath," Genevieve said coldly, catching the Chaneys off guard. "Genevieve, you can leave, but don't take anything valuable from the house," Samuel immediately warned, suspicious of her sudden compliance. "I won't take a single thing." She didn't even pack her belongings. "Wait!" Alora approached Genevieve and handed her a black trash bag. "Here. Take this 'gift' to the Trevinos. Maybe they'll need it." Genevieve looked at the black bag, from which the stench of rotting food seeped through. "You've gone too far!" Genevieve clenched her fists in anger, throwing the trash at Alora's face. "I think you need it more!" Alora's dramatic wails echoed behind her. Genevieve left without looking back. Just then, a black Mercedes-Benz pulled up in front of her. "Ms. Chaney, get in," said the Chaney family's chauffeur Gerardo. "Gerardo? I don't remember the Chaneys sent you." "It's my own decision. It's a long way to the city. You'll be worn out if you walk all the way there." Gerardo was one of the few people in the Chaney's house who had been kind to her. Even he had spent more time with her than Samuel ever had. After a moment of hesitation, Genevieve opened the car door and got in. The car drove out of the villa area and stopped at a bus station. "This is as far as I can take you, Ms. Chaney," Gerardo said, his tone a bit sad. He then pulled an envelope from his bag, adding, "Ms. Chaney, here's 8,000 dollars. It's not much, but we hope this will help somehow..." That "we" probably referred to Gerardo himself, along with Felipe the butler, and Emma the maid. Although they worked for the Chaney family, Samuel was quite stingy and didn't pay the servants much. This sum of money must have taken them a while to save up. Genevieve gazed at the envelope, feeling touched. A while later, she pushed it back to him. "No, Gerardo, you keep it. Thanks for the ride." She stepped out, watching the Mercedes disappear before making a phone call. "Pick me up at Cedar Avenue bus stop." After a short while, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the bus stop. A man in a grey suit got out of the car and greeted her, "Genny." Ignoring the shocked stares around them, Genevieve expressionlessly nodded and entered the vehicle. "Genny, did the Chaneys actually kick you out?" asked Raymond Caldwell, her right-hand man. Raymond knew about the baby mix-up between the Chaneys and Trevinos. But he never expected the Chaneys to actually kick Genevieve out. Genevieve didn't respond. Instead, she picked up a tablet and began scrolling. "If I recall correctly, Zenith Group has been secretly supporting the Chaney family, hasn't it?" "Yes. Around a dozen projects of varying scales over five years." "From today onward, cut them off. Blacklist the Chaney family and notify all our partners that anyone who dares to work with them from now on will be opposing Zenith Group." Raymond stiffened. "Genny, are you planning to ... destroy the Chaneys?" "I was the one who lifted them up. Of course, I'd tear them down myself." Genevieve closed the tablet and handed it to Raymond. "But Zenith Group currently has one ongoing collaboration with the Chaneys. Should we terminate that as well?" "How big is the scale?" "Not huge. Just a small one worth over three million dollars." "We can afford the loss. Just terminate it." Raymond nodded and immediately began executing the orders on the tablet. "Genny, there's one more thing." He pulled out his phone and sent a few screenshots to Genevieve. She studied the images, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk. "Tell the Compton Group I'll take this deal, but the price needs to go up by 30%." Raymond nodded, preparing to respond to the Compton Group. Genevieve looked out the window, her thoughts in disarray. "Let's go to Serein Estates. I want to visit the Trevino family." Serein Estates was a low-end, run-down neighborhood in Isondale. According to Alora, all five members of the Trevino family lived in an apartment of less than ninety square meters. Built ten years ago, the complex had no property management. The peeling walls, weed-choked greenbelts, and uneven concrete paths put Raymond off somehow. "Genny, are you sure the Trevino family actually lives here?" With her status, Genevieve shouldn't live in such a shabby neighborhood. "If Alora wasn't lying, this should be the place." "Genny, now that you're reconnecting with the Trevinos, why not just buy them a proper house? This place is..." "I've never actually met the Trevinos. I don't know their temperaments or personalities..." Raymond understood. She feared the Trevinos might be money-grubbing social climbers like Alora. "Alright, you can head back now. I'll go in alone. I'll contact you if I need anything." Genevieve opened the car door and walked toward Serein Estates. Meanwhile, inside the Trevino's place, her parents were sitting nervously in their tiny living room. "Dylan, are we really doing this? What if Genny isn't like Alora?" Chapter 2 Not Letting Genny Take Anything Away Priscilla Beasley, Genevieve's mother, sat nervously on the couch, her eyes darting toward the door every now and then. "After what happened with Alora, I have to be cautious. But don't worry. If Genny truly isn't like Alora, we'll tell her the truth immediately," responded Dylan Trevino, Genevieve's father. He patted Priscilla's hand reassuringly, though he wasn't entirely certain himself. After dealing with someone as opportunistic as Alora, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. "I know. I'm just afraid Genny will be furious when she finds out," Priscilla muttered. "She won't be. I'm sure she'll understand." Though Dylan tried to comfort Priscilla, he couldn't shake his own unease. "By the way, aren't our sons coming back today?" Priscilla frowned. It was Genny's homecoming, yet her three brothers were nowhere to be seen. "Malik and Liam had urgent business at the company and hospital. As for Marcus..." Dylan coughed awkwardly, hesitating. "Don't tell me he's at some film set again! He's always hanging around there. It's just inappropriate for his status!" Just the mention of Marcus set Priscilla off. He refused to take his duties at the company seriously, spending all his time on movie sets and barely coming home. "If it makes him happy, let him be. I already talked to him. He'll come back." Dylan's words soothed Priscilla slightly. The numbering on Serein Estates' buildings had long since faded. Genevieve had to ask several people before finally locating Unit 3 of Building 17 at the complex's far end. The aging neighborhood had no elevators, and the Trevino family lived on the top floor. Genevieve walked up the stairs in one go, arriving at unit 701. Though the door to 701 appeared worn, it was remarkably clean. A pristine doormat lay at the entrance, starkly contrasting with the dirty, disorganized floor outside unit 702 across the hall. "It seems the Trevino family values cleanliness." This was Genevieve's first impression of them. With no doorbell, Genevieve hesitated briefly before raising her hand to knock. "Is that Genny?" Priscilla stiffened, her previous irritation suddenly replaced with nervousness. "Relax. I'll get it." Dylan gave Priscilla's shoulder a reassuring pat and went to answer. "You are..." The woman at the door bore such a striking resemblance to Priscilla that Dylan instantly knew who she was. "Hello, I'm Genevieve, y-your daughter." Meeting Dylan for the first time, Genevieve couldn't hide her awkwardness. She considered offering a handshake but thought better of it. Meeting Dylan for the first time, Genevieve fidgeted with her empty hands. "I should've had Raymond prepare gifts," she thought ruefully. "Genny!" Dylan's face lit up. "Come in!" He chuckled at her awkwardness, stepping aside. Genevieve nodded and stepped inside. Out of habit, she gave the space a quick scan. The room was indeed small, but meticulously organized, crowded yet far from cluttered. Many items showed wear, but everything was spotless. Just as expected, the Trevino family really did prioritize cleanliness." "Genny..." a trembling voice sounded. Genevieve turned toward the voice. Genevieve looked over and saw a middle-aged woman in a white knit sweater and yellow long skirt standing clutching her hemline, looking at her with nervous eyes. This must be her biological mother. Genevieve's heartbeat quickened. She gave a small smile and called out, "Mom." "Yes!" Priscilla rushed forward and wrapped Genevieve in a tight embrace. "My Genny, my dear Genny... I've finally met you." Never having experienced familial affection, Genevieve was overwhelmed by Priscilla's warmth. Her eyes widened slightly. She raised her hands uncertainly before letting them drop. Hearing Priscilla's choked sobs, Genevieve sighed softly. She returned the embrace, gently rubbing Priscilla's back. "Mom, don't cry. I'm home now." "Alright, she just got back. Don't scare her," Dylan said, patting Priscilla's shoulder. Reluctantly, Priscilla released Genevieve. "Genny, I was just so excited... Did I frighten you?" Genevieve shook her head, letting Priscilla lead her to sit down while holding her hand. "Genny, how have you been all these years? Did the Chaney family treat you well?" "It was fine. The Chaneys treated me ... quite well." Seeing the Trevino family's modest circumstances, she decided against telling them the truth. The conflict with the Chaneys was her own burden to bear, no need to drag the Trevinos into it. Genevieve smiled faintly, offering nothing more. But Priscilla and Dylan noticed her faded denim skirt and canvas shoes, which spoke volumes. While not the wealthiest in Isondale, the Chaneys were still elite. They could certainly afford proper clothing. And Genny had arrived without even a single bag. The Chaneys, seeing she wasn't their blood, must have denied her even necessities. Their daughter had clearly suffered greatly under that family's roof. "Hmph! How dare the Chaneys mistreat our girl!" Dylan muttered to himself. He decided Malik should teach them a proper lesson. Genevieve, unaware of what Dylan and Priscilla were thinking, glanced around the living room. "Oh, where are my brothers?" She recalled that the Trevino family had three sons, none of whom seemed to be home at the moment. "Oh, your oldest brother Malik is busy socializing. Your second brother Liam is on a night shift at the hospital. And your third brother Marcus, that brat is always messing around on set, playing a corpse or something. Don't bother with him," Priscilla replied, rolling her eyes. Genevieve quickly figured out the occupations of the three brothers: company employee, doctor, and movie extra. The Trevino family wasn't seemingly doing too well financially, but so far, Dylan and Priscilla seemed like decent people. She wondered what the other three brothers were like. If the Trevino family were all good people, Genevieve wouldn't mind helping them out. After all, she was now their daughter, and it was normal to help her own family. "Genny, are you hungry? I'll cook for you," Priscilla asked, worried that Genevieve might be famished as it was getting late. "Sure, Mom, I'll help you," Genevieve replied, following Priscilla into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Dylan sent a message in the family group chat. Dylan: "Genny's back. Get home now!" Malik Trevino: "Okay." Liam Trevino: "I'll be home as soon as my surgery is over." Marcus Trevino: "Got it! On my way!" Dylan: "Don't forget to bring gifts for Genny. I'll kick out whoever comes back empty-handed!" Satisfied, Dylan put away his phone, grabbed an apron to tie on, and went into the kitchen to help. There came a knock on the door. "I'll get the door." Genevieve put down the potato in her hands, randomly wiping her wet hands on the apron. "You are?" She opened the door. The man outside the door wore a relatively cheap suit, holding a somewhat damaged briefcase and a gift bag. Seeing his resemblance to Dylan, Genevieve guessed that he was one of her three brothers, though she wasn't sure which one. The man looked at her coldly and handed her the gift. Chapter 3 That Woman Looks Like Genevieve "I'm your oldest brother, Malik, and you're Genevieve, right?" Malik asked, his tone quite cold. Genevieve took the gift, smiling as she replied, "Hi, Malik." Malik's attitude was really cold, but Genevieve didn't take it to heart. The sister who had grown up in the family for 22 years was a snob, while this biological sister was someone he wasn't familiar with. It was only natural that he felt indifferent toward her. "Malik, have some rest. I'll go help Mom with dinner first." While Genevieve assisted in the kitchen, Liam and Marcus arrived home. "Dinner's ready!" Genevieve placed the final dish on the table, beaming at the Trevino family. Never before had she shared meals like this with the Chaneys. The cozy atmosphere of family dining felt wonderful. "Genny, I didn't know your preferences, so I just made some simple dishes. Hope you like them." Priscilla served Genevieve some fish. Genevieve stared at the fish but hesitated to eat. Watching this, Malik felt scorn rising, thinking that she was a spoiled rich girl turning up her nose at home cooking. Just as Malik was about to speak, Genevieve gently pushed the fish aside. "Mom, I'm sorry... I'm allergic to fish." Everyone froze at this unexpected revelation. Priscilla's face flashed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Genny! I didn't know about your allergy." "It's okay, Mom. I'll eat the other dishes." Genevieve served Priscilla some food, then herself. After the brief awkwardness, the atmosphere at the table actually improved slightly. After dinner, the Trevino men handled the cleanup while Priscilla took Genevieve's hand for a chat in the living room. "Dad, what do you think of Genevieve?" Malik asked, washing dishes. "Genny's a good kid, much better than Alora," Dylan was leaning against the kitchen doorway as he watched Priscilla and Genevieve with a contented smile. "Malik, you dislike Genevieve, right?" Liam had noticed Malik's odd demeanor during dinner. "Come on, Malik! Genny's not only pretty but she's also got a great personality. What's not to like?" Marcus nudged Malik while drying a plate. "I wouldn't say dislike. I just worry she might be like Alora." The Trevinos were self-made, raising their children with strict traditional values. None knew the family's true status before graduating college. They'd thought Alora would pass the test too until she started complaining about their modest lifestyle. Recently, after a head injury, she'd woken up insisting she wasn't a Trevino by blood. She'd even sneaked off to the Chaneys for a DNA test. Within an hour of the results, she'd discarded the Trevino name. "Genny's different from Alora," Liam said firmly, watching Genevieve through the doorway. His gut told him she wouldn't be like Alora. "We'll see." Malik rinsed a glass. "Her 22nd birthday's next month. If she proves trustworthy, we'll throw her a grand homecoming party." Unaware of the kitchen discussion, Priscilla chatted animatedly with Genevieve. "Genny, are you still in school?" "I graduated last year. I was working at Chaney Group, but now..." Back when working at the Chaney Group, Samuel said he didn't want Genevieve to receive preferential treatment through connections. Thus, Genevieve remained at the Chaney Group as an intern. But rather than proper work, it was more like being an errand-running cleaner. "Don't worry." Priscilla patted her hand. "We'll have Malik get you a position at Trevino Group." "The Trevino Group? The company of the wealthiest family in Isondale?" Genevieve's eyes widened. She was surprised. Was Malik so capable? Perhaps realizing she'd spoken carelessly, Priscilla quickly backtracked, afraid Genevieve might notice something amiss. "Malik is at least a team leader at the Trevino Group. Getting you a position shouldn't be too difficult for him." She thought, "So Mom thinks a team leader has that much influence." "It's alright, Mom. A friend of mine happens to be hiring right now. I've already arranged an interview for tomorrow." "I see. Is the company far from home? How's the pay?" From Serein Estates to Zenith Group was about an hour's drive. It wasn't too far in her eyes. As for the salary... "Don't worry about the distance, Mom. As for the pay, I'll find out tomorrow at the interview." "Oh, alright. If you've got it handled, then I won't worry. "By the way, I've already prepared your room. Get some rest early so you're ready for tomorrow's interview." Though the small house wasn't spacious, with only three bedrooms, the Trevinos had originally set aside a room for Alora. But Priscilla worried Genevieve might feel uncomfortable staying in Alora's old room, so she had redecorated and furnished another one instead. After her shower, Genevieve lay in the modest bedroom. The room was small, but it had everything she needed. "So this is how having a family feels. I like it." Wrapped in lemon-scented blankets, Genevieve slept soundly through the night. The next morning after breakfast, Genevieve left the house with her three brothers. However, since she was heading in the opposite direction, the four parted ways at the neighborhood entrance. After walking about a kilometer from Serein Estates, Genevieve stopped before a Bentley. "Genny." "Let's head to Zenith Group." The Bentley made a U-turn and drove toward Zenith Group. Meanwhile, Malik had turned into an alley after leaving Serein Estates, where a Maybach was parked. "Mr. Trevino, shall we return to the company?" After changing clothes, Malik checked his watch. "To Zenith Group." The Maybach started smoothly and headed in the same direction. At a traffic light, the Bentley and Maybach came to a stop side by side. The Bentley's window rolled halfway down, revealing a striking profile. Malik glanced over casually, then froze. That person ... looked just like Genevieve... As he reached to lower his own window for a better look, the light turned green. The Bentley sped off, leaving exhaust fumes and its rear end in view. Malik thought, "Was I imagining things? But that really looked like her." And Genevieve had gone this same direction that morning. Was it a coincidence? As they neared Zenith Group, Malik spotted the familiar Bentley again. This time, the figure's silhouette seemed even more like Genevieve's, except the outfit was Idyll Chic's latest release, not the cheap office wear she'd worn earlier. The cheapest Idyll Chic piece cost over 130 thousand dollars. No way Genevieve could afford that. Shaking his head, Malik dismissed the absurd thought. "Raymond, go over today's schedule?" Genevieve sat in her chair, head bowed as she processed documents. "Nine AM, negotiate cooperation with the Trevino Group. Eleven AM, hold the routine meeting. Two PM..." "Wait, the Trevino Group? Which one?" Genevieve interrupted. "The one owned by the richest Trevino family in Isondale, of course." Raymond didn't understand why Genevieve suddenly asked this. The Trevino Group wasn't where Malik worked, was it? "Ms. Chaney, Mr. Trevino is here." Chapter 4 The Fair-Weather Woman Genevieve's phone suddenly rang. "Hello, what's it?" Genevieve's brows furrowed as she listened to what the other end said. "I'm on my way." Hanging up, she pinched the bridge of her nose, voice weary. "Raymond, I need to go out. Handle the Trevino Group negotiations." Without waiting for Raymond's response, Genevieve grabbed her coat and left the office, heading down the corridor. Meanwhile, Malik had just been led by staff to the office doorway. Seeing that retreating figure in the distance, he felt an inexplicable sense of having missed something. "Mr. Trevino, this way, please." Malik collected himself and entered. Having left Zenith Group, Genevieve drove herself to a private hospital with pleasant surroundings. The entire 18th floor comprised a single ward. Upon exiting the elevator, Genevieve saw a woman in a pink dress pacing anxiously by the door. "Sherlyn, how's Darrell?" "Genny! You're finally here!" Sherlyn Hayden looked ready to cry, pulling Genevieve toward the ward. "Darrell had been fine these past days, but today he suddenly went berserk and hurt the doctors and himself." "Calm down. I'll check on him first and see what to do." Genevieve patted Sherlyn's hand, comforting the tearful woman. Genevieve felt frustrated at the sight of Darrell Howard, who had just collapsed on the bed after exhausting himself during the outburst. Darrell, like Raymond, had once been her most capable and trusted aide. Three years ago, during an ambush, Darrell had stepped in at the critical moment to ensure Genevieve's escape, only to fall into enemy hands himself. By the time she found him, he wasn't dead, but he'd been injected with an experimental drug. Non-lethal, but designed to ravage the nervous system, turning its victims into frenzied beasts. Genevieve had poured vast resources into developing an antidote, only to hit a roadblock: it required ice lotus, a rare herb. She'd only seen it in her mentor's ancient texts. Years of searching had yielded nothing. "He should be fine after waking." Genevieve packed her treatment tools, wiping Sherlyn's tears. "Genny, still no leads on ice lotus? Darrell's violent episodes are becoming more frequent. I'm worried..." "Don't worry. I'll double our efforts to track both the herb and those bastards. Darrell will survive." Though she'd rescued Darrell, the masterminds remained at large. Finding them might mean securing the cure. Genevieve clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening, a vein throbbing at her temple. After calming Sherlyn, Genevieve left the hospital. Raymond called to update her that the Trevino Group deal was progressing smoothly. Slumping into the car seat, she exhaled. She glanced at her phone and realized that Priscilla's birthday was coming up soon. She decided to go and pick out a birthday gift for Priscilla. Priscilla usually dressed modestly and didn't like wearing jewelry. Thinking of Priscilla's gentle and graceful demeanor, Genevieve thought a bracelet would be perfect. "Can I take a look at this one?" Genevieve asked a sales clerk. "Excellent choice! This bracelet showcases excellent design and superb craftsmanship. The rich color palette is particularly striking!" Genevieve observed the bracelet. While not top-quality, it was decent enough. As for the price, something too expensive would raise suspicions, but this moderately priced piece could pass as savings. "Alright, please wrap this up for me." "Right away, miss!" Just as the sales clerk prepared to package the bracelet, a sweet yet grating voice interrupted, "Genevieve, it really is you." "So, it's you, the fair-weather woman," Genevieve retorted, crossing her arms as she faced Alora and Paulina Gibson. Originally, the Chaney family and the Gibson family had a marriage agreement. Genevieve was to marry into the Gibson family, but Paulina found Genevieve disagreeable in every way. Now that Alora had returned to the Chaneys, she'd replace Genevieve in marrying into the Gibson family. Now, Alora and Paulina seemed to get well along. "Genevieve! Who are you calling a fair-weather woman?" Paulina jabbed an accusing finger when Alora took offense. "Whoever answers to the name." Genevieve shrugged, utterly unbothered. "You..." "Paula, don't be upset. Genevieve didn't mean it like that." Alora restrained Paulina, her choked voice oozing false magnanimity. Genevieve's eyebrow arched as she assessed Alora's new Chanel dress and diamond necklace, likely Idyll Chic's latest 300-thousand-dollar piece. The Chaneys clearly spoiled their returned princess rotten. Noticing Genevieve's gaze on her necklace, Alora caressed the pendant on it. "Genevieve, are you looking at my necklace? Father gifted me this Idyll Chic limited edition. Isn't it exquisite? "If you like it, maybe your dad can buy you one too." Alora suddenly gasped, covering her mouth in fake remorse. "Oh wait, my bad! This necklace costs over 300 thousand dollars. Even if the Trevinos worked themselves to the bone, they still couldn't save enough to afford it in thirty years." The sales clerk side-eyed Genevieve. If her family was that poor, how was she buying a bracelet worth over 100 thousand? "Thirty years?" Paulina sneered. "Those paupers wouldn't scrape together enough in fifty!" The Trevinos had doted on Alora, but they'd made her suffer financially. Only Paulina's brother's warning about "ungrateful" rumors stopped her from exiling them from Isondale. "Paulina, don't say that," Alora chided. "Her brothers are capable. They might get promotions and become rich!" "Promotions?" Paulina scoffed. "They'll still be employees. How much can they even earn? They'll still be poor." "No way, Paula. Look at what she's wearing today. It's Idyll Chic's new collection. I remember this outfit costs over 130 thousand dollars." Paulina doubted that. Those penniless Trevino family wretches could afford to buy Genevieve such clothes? She wore a mocking expression and let out a cold laugh. "Over 130 thousand dollars? More like a 13-dollar knockoff. A fraud like her only deserves to wear fakes." Alora uttered, "But her clothes don't look counterfeit to me." "Alora, you're so naive. Someone like her could never afford Idyll Chic's new releases." Having said this, Paulina called out to the clerk again, "Hey, she's just some pauper who can't afford this bracelet. Don't let her fool you." The clerk glanced at Genevieve, then at Alora and Paulina. She didn't recognize Alora, but Paulina was the Gibson Group's heiress, someone she often saw at the Dior boutique next door. She returned the jade bracelet to the counter and said to Genevieve, "Miss, I'm sorry. We can't sell this bracelet to you. Please leave." Chapter 5 Slap Them "Leave?" Genevieve arched a brow, casually taking a seat. She propped her chin on one hand while the other tapped the counter with a single finger. "Hey, Genevieve, are you deaf? She told you to get out!" Paulina yelled. Ignoring her, Genevieve pulled out a sleek black card with gold trim and slid it toward the clerk. "Now, can you wrap it up for me?" "It's the Supreme Black Card, limited to just three in the entire mall!" The clerk's eyes lit up as she took the card, immediately bowing apologetically. "My sincerest apologies, miss! I'll package the bracelet for you right away!" She hurriedly retrieved the bracelet from the display and began carefully wrapping it. "No way! How could you have a Black Card?!" Paulina cried out. Alora might not have known what it meant, but Paulina did. This wasn't just any card, but one of only three ever issued by Spotlight Mall. The holder could spend without limits, and more importantly, obtaining one required not just wealth, but power. Even the prestigious Gibson family of Isondale only had a card with an 800-thousand-dollar limit. So how the hell did Genevieve, of all people, get her hands on a Black Card?! "Why wouldn't I have one?" Genevieve smirked. "I could pull out ten of these if I wanted." After all, she owned Spotlight Mall. She could get as many similar cards as she wanted. "You're just a fraud! That card has to be fake!" Paulina couldn't believe it. She turned to the staff. "Don't fall for her scam!" The clerk paid Paulina no mind, swiftly completing the transaction before handing the card and bracelet to Genevieve. "Here you are, miss. Your card and bracelet." "No... No way! How did it actually go through?!" Paulina snatched the card from the clerk's hands, flipping it over repeatedly as if searching for flaws. "Done staring?" Genevieve reclaimed it with ease. Paulina still refused to believe it. "I get it now. This belongs to your sugar daddy, doesn't it?" Genevieve was amused that Paulina had quite the imagination. "Paulina, how could you say that? Genevieve would never stoop to finding a sugar daddy!" Alora's eyes gleamed at the accusation, though she pretended to defend Genevieve by tugging Paulina's sleeve. "Alora, how else would she get a Black Card?" Paulina sneered. "Tsk tsk. I never thought you'd whore yourself out for money, Genevieve. Disgusting. "But I guess it makes sense. After living in luxury with the Chaneys, slumming it with the Trevinos must be rough. "I'm curious. Is your sugar daddy older than your father?" A sharp slap landed on Paulina's cheek when she was laughing heartily. "Genevieve! How dare you..." Then came another slap. "Genevieve! You can't hit Paulina! She's a Gibson!" Alora shielded Paulina, though her lips twitched upward. She thought, "This idiot actually struck a Gibson? She's done for. "I haven't even decided how to handle her yet, and she already dug her own grave. Total dumbass." "I almost forgot you." Genevieve cracked her knuckles before delivering two stinging slaps to Alora's face. "These are for your ingratitude. The Trevinos raised you. They never let you go hungry or cold, yet you let trash insult them? Even a pet knows loyalty." She turned back to Paulina. "Ms. Gibson, you speak of sugar daddies so freely. You must be quite familiar with such arrangements. Does the Gibson fortune not satisfy you, or is this some twisted fetish?" "Genevieve! How dare you!" Paulina lunged to hit her, fury overriding the sting on her face. Genevieve wouldn't back off. She caught Paulina's raised hand mid-air and smacked another stinging slap across her face. This time, Paulina's cheek swelled even more, her lip splitting at the corner with a faint trickle of blood. The force of the blow sent her crashing to the floor, dazed and disoriented. "Paula! Paula, are you okay?!" Alora rushed to her side, panic rising. If the Gibsons blamed her for Paulina's injury, she was screwed. "Guess I'm a little out of practice," Genevieve mused, flexing her wrist. As she walked past the two, she paused. "Wearing Idyll Chic only drags its name through the mud when it's on trash like you." Alora clenched her fists, watching Genevieve leave, exclaiming inwardly, "You stole my life for years, Genevieve. I will make you pay!" After exiting the store, Genevieve made a call and headed toward the mall exit until a commotion erupted near a crowded shop. Normally, she'd ignore it, but this was her property. If something went wrong, the liability fell on Spotlight Mall. "Honey, how are you feeling? Don't scare me!" Pushing through the crowd, she found an elderly man collapsed on the floor, face twisted in agony as he clutched his chest. A woman knelt beside him, frantic. "Honey, hold on! The ambulance is coming!" "Ma'am, let me check him." Genevieve crouched down, assessing his blue-tinged lips, labored breathing, and ashen skin. It should be acute myocardial infarction. "Does he have a history of heart disease?" "No! He's always been healthy!" Could it be spontaneous cardiac arrest? Genevieve frowned as she unzipped her bag and pulled out a slim tool case. "Young lady... y-you're a doctor?" "I am." "Thank God! Please help my husband!" Genevieve nodded, retrieving a special tool when a sharp voice cut in, "Hold it! You don't look like any doctor I've ever seen!" Darren Griffith, a bespectacled man in his forties, pushed forward. "And you are?" "A surgeon at Monsoon Hospital." Monsoon Hospital was Isondale's top medical institution, where even junior doctors held dual master's degrees. "Young lady, an ambulance is coming. Don't play hero with this man's life." "By then, he'll be dead." The patient's lips darkened to violet, his breaths shallowing. He wouldn't make it that long. "Nonsense! This gentleman's condition is completely stable enough to last until the ambulance arrives. Don't risk his life just to show off!" "Show off?" Genevieve almost laughed. "Let me guess. You're about to try some special treatment on him. He's having an acute myocardial infarction right now. Don't tell me you plan to rely on traditional medicine to save him." "Where's your medical license? How dare you use that so-called skills..." "No time for this." Though the man's condescension rankled, lives came first. Ignoring his rant, Genevieve started her treatment. "Hey! Why wouldn't you listen to me? I trained under Kareem Dunlap! You really think..." Darren's words died as the impossible happened before his eyes. Chapter 6 Slander The elderly patient's breathing gradually steadied, his oxygen-starved lips regaining their natural color. Genevieve took his wrist, checking his pulse. Nearby, Alora, who had been about to take Paulina to the hospital, spotted Genevieve through the crowd and frowned. "Huh? Is that Genevieve? What's she doing?" Paulina followed her gaze and stiffened. "Genevieve is ... treating someone? Since when did that bitch know medicine?" In her memories, Genevieve had been too busy groveling to the Chaneys and Gibsons to even focus on school and she'd nearly failed to graduate. How could she have possibly studied medicine? Paulina's eyes gleamed, her stinging cheek momentarily forgotten. "Come on. Let's check it out." Dragging Alora with her, she pushed through the crowd just as Genevieve finished withdrawing her tools. Noticing the well-dressed elderly couple, Paulina came up with an idea. "Oh? Genevieve, what's this? Playing doctor now? You've never studied medicine. Can you face the consequences if something goes wrong?" Genevieve ignored her, calmly packing her special tools before offering the old man a small pill. "He'll be fine, ma'am. Just get some rest for a few days." "Thank you, young lady! Thank you!" The woman's eyes welled up as she clutched Genevieve's hands. My pleasure. But I'd still recommend a full check-up at the hospital." "Yes, yes, we'll go right away!" Genevieve smiled and turned to leave. She'd already wasted too much time, and Priscilla would worry if she stayed out much longer. But Paulina stepped in front of her, arms crossed. "Stop right there! Who said you could leave?" "Move." Genevieve's voice was cold. "Make me." Paulina jutted her chin out defiantly, her hands on her hips. "Seems you still haven't learned your lesson, Ms. Gibson." Genevieve flexed her wrist, smiling at Paulina's swollen cheek. "W-what are you doing? Genevieve, there are witnesses here! I'm not afraid of you!" Paulina stumbled backward, hiding behind Alora as the memory of those stinging slaps resurfaced. "Alora, help me!" "What an idiot!" Alora suppressed a scowl, cursing inwardly. "Pick fights she can't win and then drag me into it?" But when she considered that after marrying into the Gibson family, Paulina would become her sister-in-law, she couldn't actually just stand by. Otherwise, the Gibson family would surely blame her. She stepped forward with a plastic smile. "Genevieve, Paulina just ... misspoke. Don't hold it against her." Her words dripped poison, subtly telling the crowd: This fraud has no medical training. Murmurs erupted in the crowd. "She claimed to be a doctor, right?" "Is she a fraud?" "But the man recovered after her treatment." "Exactly! Genevieve, you've never studied medicine, but you're here deceiving people and 'treating' a patient!" Paulina stepped out from behind Alora, pointing at Genevieve and shouting. "Everyone, I've known this woman for over twenty years. I swear, she's never had any medical training! "Not only that, she's a thief who replaced my friend's place to live a privileged life! Her birth family are all penniless nobodies! "She probably can't get used to living in poverty after reuniting with her real parents. She's some rich man's mistress, and now trying to scam these well-dressed elderly folks!" Paulina declared loudly. "Genevieve, if anything happens to this elderly man, you'll be held accountable for murder!" Paulina's words caused the crowd to murmur. "So, she's a homewrecker!" "This woman looks decent. How could she do such shameless things!" "And she actually dares to play doctor. How reckless! She doesn't seem to mind whatever the consequences at all." Listening to the murmurs around her, Genevieve arched an eyebrow with a cold smile. "It seems I've been too lenient with you two." "What, Genevieve? Are you embarrassed because you got exposed?" Paulina taunted. "There are witnesses here. If you dare hit me, I'll call the police!" Paulina felt emboldened as public opinion was on her side now. "Call the police? Excellent. You'll get into trouble for slander and defamation." Paulina faltered. Though she'd repeatedly called Genevieve a mistress and a fraud, she had no actual proof. Seeing Paulina choke, Alora cursed her inwardly for a fool. "Genevieve, Paula only worried you'd gone astray. Don't blame her." Genevieve knew that Alora always incited hotheaded Paulina to confront her, while Alora herself stayed back and watched. Genevieve snorted and pointed at the middle-aged man who had claimed to be a doctor earlier. "Isn't there a doctor here? Whether I cured the patient or not, let him take a look." Every gaze turned to the man who'd mocked Genevieve moments ago. Darren man cleared his throat and examined the patient's condition. "Ahem... the patient is indeed stable now." Alora and Paulina froze. Could Genevieve actually know medicine? No way! She'd spent years groveling before the Chaneys and Gibsons. When would she have had time to study? "But..." Darren added. "But what?! Spit it out!" Paulina snapped, impatient. "But we'd need professional equipment to confirm his true condition. This could just be a superficial improvement. "I've heard traditional medicine can briefly stimulate meridians to revive patients without actually curing them." "Ha! I knew it! Genevieve's a fraud!" Paulina crowed. Darren sneered at Genevieve. "Young lady, even if you bought him some time, delaying proper treatment could cost his life. That's on you." Already biased against traditional medicine, and with Paulina and Alora insisting Genevieve was untrained, he dismissed her outright. He assumed she had just used some method to keep the patient alive for now. After all, he was a disciple of Kareem Dunlap - the renowned medical authority whom countless people begged to study under. He himself had only become Kareem's nominal student after persistent pleading and generous gifts. There was no way someone as young as Genevieve could surpass even him, let alone Kareem Dunlap. Seeing Darren and Paulina echoing each other, Genevieve smiled with mockery. Just as she was about to respond, a group of doctors and nurses rushed over. "Make way, please!" A doctor crouched beside the patient and checked his condition. "Brad, is my husband going to be okay?" The elderly woman seemed to know him. Bradford Castillo listened to the patient's heartbeat, examined his eyelids, and then exhaled in relief. "Don't worry, ma'am. He's stable for now, but we'll need to run tests at the hospital to be sure." The woman nodded and stepped back as the nurses prepared to lift his husband onto a stretcher. "Wait." Chapter 7 How Dare You Call Traditional Medicine Useless? Genevieve called out to Bradford. "Miss, what's wrong?" Bradford frowned. Matthew Compton was stable for now, but anything could change. They needed to get him to the hospital as soon as possible to avoid delaying treatment. Genevieve said, "I want to tell you. When you check his heart, check his lungs too." She found a lung issue when she took Matthew's pulse earlier. She hadn't said much then to avoid worrying his wife. She just suggested a full check-up for Matthew. Now that a doctor was here and seemed familiar with them, she figured it was fine to add a reminder. "Lungs?" Bradford was skeptical, thinking, "I've been handling his check-ups, and the last report didn't mention any lung issues. Is she trying to trick me?" Paulina said, "Genevieve, he's a professional doctor. You're a scammer. You'd better keep quiet." "Scammer?" Bradford's eyes darkened as he sized up Genevieve. Paulina nodded. "Yeah. Didn't you know? Genevieve is a scammer. She learned some shady tricks and pretends to be a doctor." "Shady tricks? Pretending to be a doctor?" Seeing how calm Genevieve was, Bradford couldn't picture her as a scammer. "If you don't believe me, ask this guy. He's a doctor too!" Paulina pointed at Darren. Darren cleared his throat and straightened up. "Yeah, this girl learned some weird stuff. She stimulated some parts of his body to keep Matthew hanging on. Don't be fooled. He seems fine, but it's all an illusion from that weird stuff." "Weird stuff?" Bradford found it amusing. He just examined Matthew. It was an acute heart attack, but the critical period had passed. "You're saying she just saved Matthew?" asked Bradford. Hearing Bradford's doubt, Paulina and Darren were even more convinced Genevieve had harmed Matthew. Paulina hurriedly said, "Yeah, that's right! Matthew was harmed by Genevieve!" "I told her not to move him. Just wait for the ambulance. But she wouldn't listen. What a pity. She's so pretty. How could she be a scammer?" said Darren. Though Darren seemed regretful, he was secretly delighted inside. "You two idiots. You don't know anything. Cut your nonsense." Bradford rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand their stupidity. "How dare you curse at us!" Paulina's face turned red. With her puffy cheeks, she looked kind of ridiculous. "Because I'm a doctor and you're an idiot. If she hadn't stepped in, Matthew wouldn't have made it till the ambulance came," said Bradford. "H-how is that even possible?" Paulina and Alora exchanged glances, their eyes wide with disbelief. They wondered, "Could Genevieve really know anything about medicine?" "Impossible!" Darren shook his head. He looked at Genevieve and then at Bradford. "You're in cahoots, right? You're just putting on a show! "A young girl saving someone with something as useless as traditional medicine? No way!" "Useless?" Genevieve's eyes darkened, a hint of killing intent showing. "How dare you call traditional medicine useless?" As Genevieve approached, Darren felt a chill. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "W-what do you want to do?" Genevieve didn't say a word. She just kicked him in the stomach. "As a doctor, you should know Gatriula is famous for traditional medicine. It's been around for thousands of years and has saved countless lives. How can you call it useless?" snapped Genevieve. Darren was kicked back a meter. He sat on the ground, clutching his aching stomach. His face was twisted in pain. He insisted, "Traditional medicine is useless! It can't compare to modern medicine!" Darren had studied abroad since he was a kid and received the best education. He looked down on everything in Gatriula. If his mom hadn't forced him to come back, he would have stayed abroad, living a high-paying, carefree life. "When traditional medicine was saving lives, your so-called modern medicine was nothing! The people who invented modern medicine haven't even been born yet!" Genevieve clenched her fists, holding back the urge to kick Darren to death. This was in a shopping mall, and more people were gathering. It wasn't the place for a big scene. If it were in the wilderness, she would tear Darren apart. Darren shouted, "Nonsense! Modern medicine is the real deal. Traditional medicine is nothing. You're in cahoots with this guy, trying to use Matthew's life to show off. You're playing with people's lives!" Paulina and Alora, stunned by Genevieve, snapped back to reality when Darren shouted. Paulina said, "That's right. You're definitely putting on a show. You're not taking Matthew away." Alora persuaded, "Genevieve, don't be so stubborn. If you delay his treatment, you'll really be a murderer." Paulina and Alora blocked the way, acting like they were heroes. "A show? I, Bradford, wouldn't stoop to acting with anyone. Move out of the way." Bradford's patience was wearing thin. If he didn't have a rule against hitting women, he would have kicked Paulina and Alora out of the way ages ago. "Bradford?" Darren was a bit stunned. "Y-you're saying you're Bradford?" Bradford was one of the most outstanding and relatively young genius doctors in Gatriula. He was relatively young because there was another genius, no, a prodigy doctor, even younger than him. "N-no, it can't be. How could you be Bradford?" Darren had thought Bradford looked familiar but couldn't remember. It was only when Bradford introduced himself that it finally hit him. At an academic conference before, Bradford gave a speech on stage, but Darren was too far away to see clearly. Now, looking closely, this young man in front of him did look a bit like Bradford. "If I'm not Bradford, are you?" Bradford retorted. Both Paulina and Alora wondered, "Who is Bradford?" They usually didn't pay attention to such things, so naturally, they didn't know who Bradford was. "Bradford, could he be that genius doctor from Monsoon Hospital?" "No way. Isn't this guy also from Monsoon Hospital? Hasn't he met Mr. Castillo?" The whispers reached Paulina and Alora's ears clearly. They thought, "If this guy is really a genius doctor, then what he said about Genevieve saving Matthew is true!" "Oh? You're from Monsoon Hospital?" Bradford raised an eyebrow and sneered. "If Monsoon Hospital has trash like you, it really stains the place." Genevieve was also a bit surprised. She hadn't expected that the person in front of her was Bradford, who was known as one of the two great talents of Monsoon Hospital along with Valentina. Darren was completely stunned. He sat on the ground, his eyes blank, mumbling, "It's impossible. It's impossible." Bradford didn't feel like arguing with Darren anymore. He looked at Paulina and Alora, who were still blocking the way, and his expression turned sour. "Excuse me, please move." Paulina and Alora looked at each other and were about to move when they heard Genevieve's voice. "No need to trouble them. Mr. Castillo, I'll clear the way for you right away."
My name is Bliss Caddel, and I never claimed to make smart decisions. My pet parrot flew into a biker gang's compound after calling them pussies, pricks, and little bitches. I tiptoed in and snatched him up. Every head in the building turned and locked eyes on me. So I did the smart thing and ran like inferno. Out of nowhere, I feel large arms wrapped around my torso, swinging me off my feet. I'm pulled back against a very hard chest. "Calm down, darlin'." The deep southern drawl rasps in my ear. "Good girl." He whispers, causing my panties to disintegrate. Two more men appear. One looks like a dark angel with tattoos for days. The other is built like a freaking Viking with ice blue eyes. "Mind telling me why you came onto our property and knocked our prospect out before calling us a bunch of names, Darlin'?" "Freaking cunts. Freaking cunts." My pet parrot chants. I feel my cheeks grow increasingly warm. I'm definitely re-homing that freaking bird. —— I never claimed to make smart decisions. In fact, most of the time, I would call myself... ditzy. If you asked my dad, he would even claim I was stupid. If you asked my mom, she would tell you I'm just unlucky. God rest her soul. I'm more inclined to agree with my mother. Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually incredibly smart. Top of my class, full ride scholarship, and genius level I.Q S.M.A.R.T. However, it's hard for people to know that since I also happen to view the world very differently. My brain and my actions don't always compute together and translate in a positive way. For example, I once walked into a CVS Pharmacy for a flu shot and didn't realize until I got home it was actually a Walgreens I went to. Or the time I put my thumb on a display car's lighter to see if it was hot after I pressed it (In my defense I was twelve), or the time I accidentally walked outside my house to check the mail completely nak-ed because I forgot to get dressed after my shower. I'm forgetful and scatterbrained and often get lost in my head before realizing important things. Therefore, most people assume I'm a complete moron. However, out of all the ditzy things I've done in my life, none of them could ever compare to this moment right now, with a bitchy bird on my shoulder and a group of pissed off bikers chasing after me. Let me back up a bit. My name is Bliss Caddel, twenty-five, and I recently moved to the good state of Oregon a week ago from Arizona. I also have a pet rescue parrot that likes to run, er, fly away from home when he gets pissed off at me. Which is exactly why I have a tracker attached to his little ankle. Remember how I told you my mother said I'm just unlucky? Well, this would be one of those times she was correct. You see, I woke up late resulting in being behind schedule in feeding As-s, that's my pet bird's name, so he threw a tantrum and flew out the front door when I opened it to grab a package off the porch. Of course I just got out of the shower so all I had on was a towel. So after quickly throwing on whatever I could find, I opened the tracking app on my phone and hopped in my car to chase As-s. I was fortunate enough to find him after thirty minutes, unfortunately he just so happened to fly onto a biker gang's compound. Now, I'm not a violent person, I would even call myself a passive people pleaser most often, a result from my previous he-llish life with an abusive father. But when the scrawny kid at the gate told me to get lost before calling me a cu-nt... I lost it. I made a vow to myself that I would finally grow a backbone when I left Arizona. So, I remembered to keep my thumb untucked from my fist and punched him right in the face. The hit wasn't very hard, but he did lose his footing causing him to trip and fall, hitting his head on the wall and knocked himself clean out. I took advantage of the opportunity and slipped through the unmanned gate to grab my bird. The jerk of a pet, that I'm seriously considering re-homing at this point, decided it would be an awesome idea to hang out in the garage where a group of very large and very scary leather wearing bikers happened to be. Then the as-shole apparently thought it would be a great idea to show off his talking talent by screaming out expletives at them. After calling them pussies, motherfu-ckers, and little bitches, I tiptoed in and snatched him up. Even more unfortunate, every head in the building turned right then and locked eyes on me. Extra unfortunate, the kid from the gate ran in right after with a bloody nose and angry eyes. So, I did the smart thing and ran like he-ll. Which leads me to now. Out of breath with a stitch in my side as I basically play ring around the rosy with a group of very angry bikers on my tail. I would have ran straight for the gate to slip out towards my car, except there's a very mean looking biker standing right in front of it. So the next best bet was to just run around their house until a better opportunity to give them the slip came along. "Bitches. Bitches. Bitches." The chant makes my anxiety grow. "Shut up, As-s!" I hissed at him. "You're making it worse." Out of nowhere, I feel large arms wrapped around my torso, swinging me off my feet and causing my mismatched shoes to fly off. I'm pulled back against a very hard chest and the scent of leather and musk invades my nostrils. "Calm down, darlin'. " The deep southern drawl rasps in my ear. He's strong, strong enough to squash me like a melon, but he isn't using more force than necessary to restrain me. I take a deep breath to calm myself down and let my body go lax. "Good girl." He whispers in my ear, causing my panties to disintegrate. I may have a slight praise kink, don't judge me. "Mind telling me why you came onto our property and knocked our prospect out before calling us a bunch of names, Darlin'?" I'm about to answer him when the rest of the group comes running over with snarls on their faces and murder in their eyes. Especially the kid with the bloody nose. I cringe into the biker holding me as I see certain death aimed at me in the kid's eyes. "What the he-ll is going on out here?" A deep, growly voice interrupts whatever was about to happen. "This cu-nt snuck up on me and hit me in the head with a bat, knocking me clean out, and snuck through the gate, Prez." The skinny kid tells the newcomer. I let out an indigent gasp before narrowing my eyes on him. "You're a lying liar! I did no such thing." I try to get loose from the man holding me but he just wraps his arm tighter around my waist. The one thing I hate more than anything is being accused of lying. "I barely tapped you in the nose. You tripped over your own feet and knocked yourself out when your head hit the wall." I sniff and lift my chin. "I simply walked through the gate while you were taking a nap." The guy behind me snorts. "That true, prospect? You knock yourself out?" The now amused voice asks. "What? Prez, look at her." He motions to my attire. "She's clearly crazy! She's lying, not me." Rude. I look down to see what I'm wearing since I just threw on whatever I could get my hands on the quickest to go after my runaway bird. I'm wearing pink shorts with white polka dots, a blue shirt with yellow stripes, and one house slipper and flip flop combo that's sitting a few feet away. Okay, maybe the kid has a point, but still. "Bring her inside and we'll review the tape to see who's lying." The guy who is called Prez orders. I see the kid stiffen and can't keep the smug smile off my face. The guy holding me puts his hand on my lower back to encourage me forward. Honestly, I'm a little excited to be proved right, so I follow without argument. We walk to the front of their house, compound, building... whatever they call it, and walk through the front door. I look around to take in my surroundings. Straight ahead is a long bar taking up the entire wall with a mirrored background and enough liquor to keep a frat house supplied for eons. There's a freaking stripper pole to the far right with a stereo system next to it and chairs scattered all around the makeshift stage. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happens there. There's a pool table and pinball machine to the far left making the space resemble an arcade. Once everyone is inside, the President, a silver fox of a man if it wasn't for the scowl on his face and the nasty looking scar on the side of his neck, stands in front of me with his arms crossed. I swallow the lump in my throat and feel myself start to shake on instinct. His eyes track the movement and his features gentle out to a degree. The biker who has yet to let me go rubs his hand down my back in a soothing motion. "Shh, Darlin', everything will be okay." He tries to calm me. It seems to work since the shakes disappear, but I still feel freaking terrified. My attention moves to the stairs as a beautiful woman with long dark hair, wearing an adorable white dress with pink flamingos on it, comes down followed by three gorgeous men. She locks eyes with me and tilts her head in curiosity before making her way over. We take each other in and that's when I notice the small baby bump. "Who is this?" She asks, looking at the President. I look at him and notice the affection in his eyes as he looks at her. They have similar features so I'm guessing this must be his daughter. "This is our local trespasser..." He trails off and looks to me for me to fill in the blanks. "Bliss. Bliss Caddel. And I'm not a trespasser, I was just catching As-s." I answer. The biker behind me makes a choking sound and the girl's eyes widen as she laughs. The President looks at me like I lost my mind and that's when I realize how that sounds. "My pet bird!" I rush out. "His name is As-s." I correct. "I was catching my runaway bird whose name is As-s, not trying to get butt." I feel my cheeks heat and look down at my bare feet in embarrassment. "You named your bird As-s?" The girl asks. "That's fu-cking awesome." I look at her and give her a slight smile. "Technically, I didn't name him. He's a rescue and already had the name. It's the only one he answers to." I explain so these people don't think I'm some kind of psycho. "Where is this bird?" The president asks while looking around. "He's around here somewhere. He flew off my shoulder when this guy grabbed me." I point my thumb behind me towards the biker at my back. "There was a white bird on her shoulder. She's telling the truth." Biker dude responds when the President looks at him. The President's eyebrows go up when he notices the guy's hand splayed out over my stomach. The hand that is currently making soothing circles on said stomach. He looks back towards the biker guy's face and a silent communication ensues before the President nods with a small smirk. Before I can ask what that was all about, the door swings open and two hulking men walk through it. One guy is so da-mn pretty that I can feel my eyes start to water because he's clearly a dark angel. He has black hair that's buzzed on the sides and longer on top with a messy look like he just doesn't care. He has a dangly cross earring in his right ear, and a short close cropped beard that frames his sculpted jawline. He's wearing large rings on every finger and has tattoos for days covering his arms. When I trail my wide eyes back up to his face his deep dark eyes are locked right on me. I quickly look away and take in the other guy. This guy is built. As in B.U.I.L.T. He looks like a freaking giant. He's shirtless except for his leather vest, showing off his very defined eight pack and adonis belt. I can feel my tongue water to trace those lines. He has long blonde hair with shaved sides, reminding me of a viking, and a short beard around plump downturned lips. His ice blue eyes look completely void of life until they lock onto me. Then they're filled with curiosity and something else that causes heat to swirl in my stomach. He turns his attention to the biker that's still holding me and the three of them do that annoying silent communication thing. I finally angle my head around to get a look at the man who's attached me to his side and nearly choke on my tongue. This one has dark brown hair that's short and messy underneath a freaking cowboy hat, with a full and trimmed close cropped beard. He has a gorgeous face that makes him look all boy next door until you notice the arms full of colorful tattoos. "Fu-cking cu-nts. Fu-cking cu-nts. fu-cking cu-nts." As-s chants as he flies through the open door and lands on the viking guy's shoulder. "As-s!" I yell. "Stop that, you crazy bird. You've gotten me into enough trouble as it is." I give him my best evil eye but he completely ignores it, as usual, as he continues to holler out expletives. I feel my cheeks grow increasingly warm as every pair of eyes in the room looks at me. I try to give a small smile but I'm sure it's more of a grimace. I'm definitely rehoming that da-mn bird. "All right, everyone settle down." The President grabs everyone's attention. "Spider, pull the gate footage up on your phone so we can see the video and find out who's telling the truth." A guy, Spider I assume, pulls out his phone and begins typing. I look over to the lying liar with a bloody nose and narrow my eyes at him with a smirk on my lips. He squirms in place, already knowing the cats out of the bag. "Here you go, Prez." Spider hands his phone over and watches the video. The sound is turned up so we can all hear it. "The fu-ck do you want?" You can hear the kid's voice snarl out through the speaker. "Uh..um... this sounds crazy, but my pet bird is on your property. He's white and cusses like a sailor. I just came to bring him home. I don't have to go onto your property if it's not allowed, but could you please grab him for me?" You can clearly hear the nerves in my voice, making me realize how freaking timid I must sound to other people. "Fu-ck off, stupid cu-nt. Blow my di-ck and I'll consider it." He snarls. I feel the cowboy biker's hand tense against my stomach where he has it resting. Next, you hear a pained yelp and a hard thud. "Oh, my Jesus!" I hear the past me gasp out. "Sorry!" I yelled out before taking the opportunity to get my da-mn bird. Once the video ends, the room is silent before everyone breaks out into loud laughter. "Well, there we have it. Prospect," The President looks to the now embarrassed kid, "you're on probation for lying to me. One more infraction and your as-s is being tossed out. You get me?" He snarls out. "Yes, sir." The kid answers, his face heated in embarrassment and his fist clenched at his sides in anger. Serves him right. I smile to myself at being proven not to be a liar, but the smile quickly slides off my face when the President's penetrating gaze lands on me. "As for you," I gulp. "You are to remain here until your debt is paid off." I gasp in shock because what the fu-ck? "Excuse me?" I feel that new and unfamiliar fire ignite in my insides. "What debt? I didn't do anything wrong!" He crosses his arms and quirks a brow at me. I feel two new sets of warm bodies stand behind me next to the cowboy biker guy. The President looks at the three of them and raises both brows in question. "Are you three sure about this?" He asks them. Sure about what? "Abso-fu-cking-lutely, Prez." The cowboy answers. The other two give an affirmative grunt, sounding more like cavemen than bikers. I'm completely lost about what is happening right now, and I quickly get the conversation back on track. "Sorry to interrupt whatever is more important than my fate right now." I say sarcastically, gaining the President's attention again. "But as I was saying, I did nothing wrong. I don't have a debt." "Young lady, you walked up to our gate, punched a member of my club, then broke onto our property." His tone brooks no room for argument. "If you were a man you would be shot." I gasp loudly. "That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" I question. "It's not like I came here with the intention to murder anyone. I just wanted my bird back!" "Motherfu-ckers. Motherfu-ckers." As-s helpfully squawks out. I turn to peer at him behind me on the Viking's shoulder and smile sweetly at my baby. "Good boy." I tell him, before turning back around and facing an amused President. "Doesn't matter what your intentions were, sweet cheeks." He says. "Did the prospect put his hands on you?" He asks. "Well, no. But-" "Then you had no justifiable right to put yours on him." I shut up at that, because he's not wrong. The kid just hurt my feelings and pissed me off and I lashed out. "And this is private property. For all we know this could have all been a ruse for you to come into our property to spy on us." My eyes widen at that. "What?! Spy? What am I, Kim Possible?" I choke out. "What is there to even spy on? Stripper moves and hot nak-ed bikers?" I'm frantic at this point. I just wanted my freaking bird! "Hot nak-ed bikers?" A low steely voice asks behind me, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. I turn around and see the dark angel watching me with heat and amusement. I blush and look at my feet to avoid his penetrating gaze. "You've looked in a mirror before, I'm sure." I mumble out. "What about me, Pixie? Do I fit the hot nak-ed guy list?" The guy with Ice blue eyes asks without a sign of emotion on his face. I swallow before nodding. One side of his mouth barely quirks up at my answer. "And me? What about me, Darlin', am I hot too?" The cowboy asks, sounding like an over eager puppy. I suppress a laugh at how adorable he seems and purse my lips like I'm in deep thought as I trail my eyes over him. "I suppose." He's hot and he knows it. "I can get a whole lot hotter, Darlin', just say the word." He teases, causing my breath to hitch and my pus-sy to clench. Holy turn on Batman. I quickly turn back around with my cheeks flaming and pretend none of that just happened. The guys chuckle but I ignore them. "Anyway." The President clears his throat with a small smile that he quickly loses as a stern expression takes over. "You're choices are to stay here and work around the club until your debt is paid off, or you can become enemy number one to the He-ll's Gate MC and your life in this city can become very difficult." My mouth drops open at his as-sholery. "So my choices are to become a servant or a victim?" I squeak out because my throat is so tight. "Pretty much." He just shrugs like it doesn't matter either way. "I'm not becoming some se-x toy for a group of bikers!" I yell. His eyebrows raise and the three behind me growl like dogs. "Didn't say anything about se-x, sweet cheeks. We have plenty pus-sy around here to sate our needs." He says, and the girl that I assume is his daughter scrunches up her nose with a low 'eww', making me almost laugh. "Then what am I supposed to do?" I ask in confusion. "You got any talents?" "I'm an engineer." I tell him, clearly surprising him. "And I'm really smart." I shrug my shoulders. That's all I've got. He looks me over doubtfully at the smart comment. Yeah, I get it. Not much evidence points to that being accurate. "I'm sure we can figure something out." He mumbles. "In the meantime, Texas, Ice, and Skull will show you where you'll be staying. They're in charge of you." I turn around and look at the three men behind me that he indicated. Texas is clearly the cowboy, Ice has to be the one with ice blue eyes, so that leaves the dark angel as Skull. They look at me like they can't wait to devour me, and I gulp in response. What the he-ll have I gotten myself into this time? "Sh-it. Sh-it. Sh-it." Very accurate As-s. If I die here, it will not be because I punched a biker prospect. It will be because I followed three extremely attractive men down a hallway like a lost duckling without once questioning my life choices. Texas walks in front of me, big boots thudding confidently against the worn wood floor. Ice is to my left, close enough that I can feel the chill of his presence even though I'm pretty sure that's just intimidation mixed with se-xual tension that I'm pretending doesn't exist. Skull brings up the rear, silent as a shadow, and somehow that makes him the scariest of all. No one is touching me. Which, honestly, is confusing. I kind of expected, based on movies, my anxiety, and several true crime podcasts, that I'd already be chained to something by now. Instead, I'm being escorted like a mildly troublesome guest. "Do you walk this quiet all the time?" I ask, trying to fill the silence before my brain spirals into you're about to be murdered territory. Texas glances over his shoulder with a grin. "Only when we're tryin' not to spook the pixie." Pixie? I guess that's going to stick. "I'm not easily spooked," I say automatically, even though that is objectively a lie. I get spooked by loud noises, sudden movements, and unexpected emotional intimacy. I blame my 'daddy issues'. Ice hums, low and amused. "You ran like he-ll when Skull grabbed you." "That was different," I argue. "I thought I was about to die." Which isn't a lie. After the as-shole Prez made his kingly announcement about my fate, Skull grabbed my arm, gently, to get my attention. I was too lost in my head at that moment and took off like a rocket. Then I promptly tripped over my own bare foot and landed in a heap by the door. Not my proudest moment. Skull's voice rumbles from behind me. "Could've." I squeak. Texas laughs. Ice shoots Skull a look that clearly says behave, and Skull... actually listens. Okay, that's interesting. We stop in front of a door at the end of the hall. Texas pushes it open with his boot and gestures grandly. "Home sweet home, Darlin'." I step inside cautiously. The room is... surprisingly normal. A full sized bed with a black comforter, a dresser, a nightstand, and a small window overlooking the property. No chains. No cages. No creepy red lighting. It even has its own bathroom. I blink. "This is... nice." "Don't sound so shocked," Texas says, leaning against the doorframe. "We're criminals, not savages." Ice clears his throat. "You'll be safe here." Something about the way he says it, low, certain, makes my chest loosen in a way I wasn't expecting. Skull steps past me and sets As-s's travel cage he got out of my car for me on the dresser. My jerk of a bird immediately starts pacing. He was not happy about being wrestled into it earlier. "Fu-ckers. Fu-ckers. Fu-ckers." Of course, he starts his sh-it up right away. "I'm so sorry," I blurt out. "He's... vocal." Texas crouches in front of the cage, resting his forearms on his knees. "I kinda like him." As-s tilts his head. "Cowboy." He chirps out. Texas beams. "See? We're already friends." I stare at them, baffled. Why are they being... nice? Ice turns to me, his gaze sharp but not unkind. "Listen carefully, Bliss." I straighten instinctively. "You are not a prisoner," he says. "You are not property. No one here will touch you unless you want them to." My brain screeches to a halt. "Oh." I blink. "Well. That's... good." Texas snorts. Skull's mouth twitches. Jerks. Ice steps closer, not invading my space, but close enough that I can smell leather and something spicy underneath. "Your punishment is simple. You work. You help where you can. You follow the rules." Right. "What are the rules?" I ask. Texas raises a finger. "Rule one: don't punch prospects." "That feels personal." I grumble. "Rule two," Ice continues, "don't wander off alone." Skull adds quietly, "Rule three: if you're scared, say so." My throat tightens unexpectedly. "I'm not scared," I say, even though my voice wobbles. Skull's eyes soften. "You don't gotta be brave here." My panties absolutely do not survive that sentence mixed with that look. Why... why are these men like this? "Cool," I say weakly. "Great. Awesome rules. Love that for me." Ice's lips quirk. "Get some rest. I'll bring you food later." "Food?" My stomach growls loudly, betraying me. Texas grins. "See? Fate." They start to leave, but I blurt, "Wait!" All three turn back instantly. "Um," I hesitate, feeling stupid. "I'm not... I mean, I won't be expected to, like..." Texas raises both brows in question. "To what, Darlin'?" "... do se-x stuff?" Wow, I could have worded that a little better. Silence. Then Ice chuckles. Actually chuckles. Texas looks offended. Skull looks like he might laugh himself unconscious. "Bliss," Ice says gently, "no one is using you for se-x." Texas leans in conspiratorially. "Though if you ever wanted to-" Ice clears his throat sharply, cutting him off. Texas smirks. "Kidding. Mostly." My face is on fire. "Right," I squeak. "Cool. Great. Fantastic." They leave, shutting the door softly behind them. I collapse onto the soft bed, staring at the ceiling. "What have I done?" I whisper. As-s hops closer to the bars. "Want you." He squawks. I groan. "You don't know that." "Climb you," he adds unhelpfully. "Rut you." Jesus. I'm positive his previous owner had a porn addiction. I bury my face in the pillow. I am definitely re-homing this bird.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out of the Chaney Family Genevieve Chaney was suddenly told that she wasn't her parents' biological child. "You should leave. We've found our real daughter now." A bitter sigh escaped Genevieve's lips. Since her childhood, her parents, who now turned out to be her foster parents, had been abusive, her foster mother in particular. Had she not been raised in this place since infancy, she might have questioned her parentage sooner. It all started when Alora Chaney appeared at their doorstep a few days ago. The girl burst into tears, insisting she was the Chaneys' true daughter. The Chaneys didn't believe her, so Alora dragged her father Samuel Chaney to the hospital for a paternity test. The results confirmed her claim: Alora was indeed his daughter, while Genevieve wasn't. Strangely, this brought relief. Finally, Genevieve could escape their torment. "I'm leaving now. Save your breath," Genevieve said coldly, catching the Chaneys off guard. "Genevieve, you can leave, but don't take anything valuable from the house," Samuel immediately warned, suspicious of her sudden compliance. "I won't take a single thing." She didn't even pack her belongings. "Wait!" Alora approached Genevieve and handed her a black trash bag. "Here. Take this 'gift' to the Trevinos. Maybe they'll need it." Genevieve looked at the black bag, from which the stench of rotting food seeped through. "You've gone too far!" Genevieve clenched her fists in anger, throwing the trash at Alora's face. "I think you need it more!" Alora's dramatic wails echoed behind her. Genevieve left without looking back. Just then, a black Mercedes-Benz pulled up in front of her. "Ms. Chaney, get in," said the Chaney family's chauffeur Gerardo. "Gerardo? I don't remember the Chaneys sent you." "It's my own decision. It's a long way to the city. You'll be worn out if you walk all the way there." Gerardo was one of the few people in the Chaney's house who had been kind to her. Even he had spent more time with her than Samuel ever had. After a moment of hesitation, Genevieve opened the car door and got in. The car drove out of the villa area and stopped at a bus station. "This is as far as I can take you, Ms. Chaney," Gerardo said, his tone a bit sad. He then pulled an envelope from his bag, adding, "Ms. Chaney, here's 8,000 dollars. It's not much, but we hope this will help somehow..." That "we" probably referred to Gerardo himself, along with Felipe the butler, and Emma the maid. Although they worked for the Chaney family, Samuel was quite stingy and didn't pay the servants much. This sum of money must have taken them a while to save up. Genevieve gazed at the envelope, feeling touched. A while later, she pushed it back to him. "No, Gerardo, you keep it. Thanks for the ride." She stepped out, watching the Mercedes disappear before making a phone call. "Pick me up at Cedar Avenue bus stop." After a short while, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the bus stop. A man in a grey suit got out of the car and greeted her, "Genny." Ignoring the shocked stares around them, Genevieve expressionlessly nodded and entered the vehicle. "Genny, did the Chaneys actually kick you out?" asked Raymond Caldwell, her right-hand man. Raymond knew about the baby mix-up between the Chaneys and Trevinos. But he never expected the Chaneys to actually kick Genevieve out. Genevieve didn't respond. Instead, she picked up a tablet and began scrolling. "If I recall correctly, Zenith Group has been secretly supporting the Chaney family, hasn't it?" "Yes. Around a dozen projects of varying scales over five years." "From today onward, cut them off. Blacklist the Chaney family and notify all our partners that anyone who dares to work with them from now on will be opposing Zenith Group." Raymond stiffened. "Genny, are you planning to ... destroy the Chaneys?" "I was the one who lifted them up. Of course, I'd tear them down myself." Genevieve closed the tablet and handed it to Raymond. "But Zenith Group currently has one ongoing collaboration with the Chaneys. Should we terminate that as well?" "How big is the scale?" "Not huge. Just a small one worth over three million dollars." "We can afford the loss. Just terminate it." Raymond nodded and immediately began executing the orders on the tablet. "Genny, there's one more thing." He pulled out his phone and sent a few screenshots to Genevieve. She studied the images, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk. "Tell the Compton Group I'll take this deal, but the price needs to go up by 30%." Raymond nodded, preparing to respond to the Compton Group. Genevieve looked out the window, her thoughts in disarray. "Let's go to Serein Estates. I want to visit the Trevino family." Serein Estates was a low-end, run-down neighborhood in Isondale. According to Alora, all five members of the Trevino family lived in an apartment of less than ninety square meters. Built ten years ago, the complex had no property management. The peeling walls, weed-choked greenbelts, and uneven concrete paths put Raymond off somehow. "Genny, are you sure the Trevino family actually lives here?" With her status, Genevieve shouldn't live in such a shabby neighborhood. "If Alora wasn't lying, this should be the place." "Genny, now that you're reconnecting with the Trevinos, why not just buy them a proper house? This place is..." "I've never actually met the Trevinos. I don't know their temperaments or personalities..." Raymond understood. She feared the Trevinos might be money-grubbing social climbers like Alora. "Alright, you can head back now. I'll go in alone. I'll contact you if I need anything." Genevieve opened the car door and walked toward Serein Estates. Meanwhile, inside the Trevino's place, her parents were sitting nervously in their tiny living room. "Dylan, are we really doing this? What if Genny isn't like Alora?" Chapter 2 Not Letting Genny Take Anything Away Priscilla Beasley, Genevieve's mother, sat nervously on the couch, her eyes darting toward the door every now and then. "After what happened with Alora, I have to be cautious. But don't worry. If Genny truly isn't like Alora, we'll tell her the truth immediately," responded Dylan Trevino, Genevieve's father. He patted Priscilla's hand reassuringly, though he wasn't entirely certain himself. After dealing with someone as opportunistic as Alora, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. "I know. I'm just afraid Genny will be furious when she finds out," Priscilla muttered. "She won't be. I'm sure she'll understand." Though Dylan tried to comfort Priscilla, he couldn't shake his own unease. "By the way, aren't our sons coming back today?" Priscilla frowned. It was Genny's homecoming, yet her three brothers were nowhere to be seen. "Malik and Liam had urgent business at the company and hospital. As for Marcus..." Dylan coughed awkwardly, hesitating. "Don't tell me he's at some film set again! He's always hanging around there. It's just inappropriate for his status!" Just the mention of Marcus set Priscilla off. He refused to take his duties at the company seriously, spending all his time on movie sets and barely coming home. "If it makes him happy, let him be. I already talked to him. He'll come back." Dylan's words soothed Priscilla slightly. The numbering on Serein Estates' buildings had long since faded. Genevieve had to ask several people before finally locating Unit 3 of Building 17 at the complex's far end. The aging neighborhood had no elevators, and the Trevino family lived on the top floor. Genevieve walked up the stairs in one go, arriving at unit 701. Though the door to 701 appeared worn, it was remarkably clean. A pristine doormat lay at the entrance, starkly contrasting with the dirty, disorganized floor outside unit 702 across the hall. "It seems the Trevino family values cleanliness." This was Genevieve's first impression of them. With no doorbell, Genevieve hesitated briefly before raising her hand to knock. "Is that Genny?" Priscilla stiffened, her previous irritation suddenly replaced with nervousness. "Relax. I'll get it." Dylan gave Priscilla's shoulder a reassuring pat and went to answer. "You are..." The woman at the door bore such a striking resemblance to Priscilla that Dylan instantly knew who she was. "Hello, I'm Genevieve, y-your daughter." Meeting Dylan for the first time, Genevieve couldn't hide her awkwardness. She considered offering a handshake but thought better of it. Meeting Dylan for the first time, Genevieve fidgeted with her empty hands. "I should've had Raymond prepare gifts," she thought ruefully. "Genny!" Dylan's face lit up. "Come in!" He chuckled at her awkwardness, stepping aside. Genevieve nodded and stepped inside. Out of habit, she gave the space a quick scan. The room was indeed small, but meticulously organized, crowded yet far from cluttered. Many items showed wear, but everything was spotless. Just as expected, the Trevino family really did prioritize cleanliness." "Genny..." a trembling voice sounded. Genevieve turned toward the voice. Genevieve looked over and saw a middle-aged woman in a white knit sweater and yellow long skirt standing clutching her hemline, looking at her with nervous eyes. This must be her biological mother. Genevieve's heartbeat quickened. She gave a small smile and called out, "Mom." "Yes!" Priscilla rushed forward and wrapped Genevieve in a tight embrace. "My Genny, my dear Genny... I've finally met you." Never having experienced familial affection, Genevieve was overwhelmed by Priscilla's warmth. Her eyes widened slightly. She raised her hands uncertainly before letting them drop. Hearing Priscilla's choked sobs, Genevieve sighed softly. She returned the embrace, gently rubbing Priscilla's back. "Mom, don't cry. I'm home now." "Alright, she just got back. Don't scare her," Dylan said, patting Priscilla's shoulder. Reluctantly, Priscilla released Genevieve. "Genny, I was just so excited... Did I frighten you?" Genevieve shook her head, letting Priscilla lead her to sit down while holding her hand. "Genny, how have you been all these years? Did the Chaney family treat you well?" "It was fine. The Chaneys treated me ... quite well." Seeing the Trevino family's modest circumstances, she decided against telling them the truth. The conflict with the Chaneys was her own burden to bear, no need to drag the Trevinos into it. Genevieve smiled faintly, offering nothing more. But Priscilla and Dylan noticed her faded denim skirt and canvas shoes, which spoke volumes. While not the wealthiest in Isondale, the Chaneys were still elite. They could certainly afford proper clothing. And Genny had arrived without even a single bag. The Chaneys, seeing she wasn't their blood, must have denied her even necessities. Their daughter had clearly suffered greatly under that family's roof. "Hmph! How dare the Chaneys mistreat our girl!" Dylan muttered to himself. He decided Malik should teach them a proper lesson. Genevieve, unaware of what Dylan and Priscilla were thinking, glanced around the living room. "Oh, where are my brothers?" She recalled that the Trevino family had three sons, none of whom seemed to be home at the moment. "Oh, your oldest brother Malik is busy socializing. Your second brother Liam is on a night shift at the hospital. And your third brother Marcus, that brat is always messing around on set, playing a corpse or something. Don't bother with him," Priscilla replied, rolling her eyes. Genevieve quickly figured out the occupations of the three brothers: company employee, doctor, and movie extra. The Trevino family wasn't seemingly doing too well financially, but so far, Dylan and Priscilla seemed like decent people. She wondered what the other three brothers were like. If the Trevino family were all good people, Genevieve wouldn't mind helping them out. After all, she was now their daughter, and it was normal to help her own family. "Genny, are you hungry? I'll cook for you," Priscilla asked, worried that Genevieve might be famished as it was getting late. "Sure, Mom, I'll help you," Genevieve replied, following Priscilla into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Dylan sent a message in the family group chat. Dylan: "Genny's back. Get home now!" Malik Trevino: "Okay." Liam Trevino: "I'll be home as soon as my surgery is over." Marcus Trevino: "Got it! On my way!" Dylan: "Don't forget to bring gifts for Genny. I'll kick out whoever comes back empty-handed!" Satisfied, Dylan put away his phone, grabbed an apron to tie on, and went into the kitchen to help. There came a knock on the door. "I'll get the door." Genevieve put down the potato in her hands, randomly wiping her wet hands on the apron. "You are?" She opened the door. The man outside the door wore a relatively cheap suit, holding a somewhat damaged briefcase and a gift bag. Seeing his resemblance to Dylan, Genevieve guessed that he was one of her three brothers, though she wasn't sure which one. The man looked at her coldly and handed her the gift. Chapter 3 That Woman Looks Like Genevieve "I'm your oldest brother, Malik, and you're Genevieve, right?" Malik asked, his tone quite cold. Genevieve took the gift, smiling as she replied, "Hi, Malik." Malik's attitude was really cold, but Genevieve didn't take it to heart. The sister who had grown up in the family for 22 years was a snob, while this biological sister was someone he wasn't familiar with. It was only natural that he felt indifferent toward her. "Malik, have some rest. I'll go help Mom with dinner first." While Genevieve assisted in the kitchen, Liam and Marcus arrived home. "Dinner's ready!" Genevieve placed the final dish on the table, beaming at the Trevino family. Never before had she shared meals like this with the Chaneys. The cozy atmosphere of family dining felt wonderful. "Genny, I didn't know your preferences, so I just made some simple dishes. Hope you like them." Priscilla served Genevieve some fish. Genevieve stared at the fish but hesitated to eat. Watching this, Malik felt scorn rising, thinking that she was a spoiled rich girl turning up her nose at home cooking. Just as Malik was about to speak, Genevieve gently pushed the fish aside. "Mom, I'm sorry... I'm allergic to fish." Everyone froze at this unexpected revelation. Priscilla's face flashed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Genny! I didn't know about your allergy." "It's okay, Mom. I'll eat the other dishes." Genevieve served Priscilla some food, then herself. After the brief awkwardness, the atmosphere at the table actually improved slightly. After dinner, the Trevino men handled the cleanup while Priscilla took Genevieve's hand for a chat in the living room. "Dad, what do you think of Genevieve?" Malik asked, washing dishes. "Genny's a good kid, much better than Alora," Dylan was leaning against the kitchen doorway as he watched Priscilla and Genevieve with a contented smile. "Malik, you dislike Genevieve, right?" Liam had noticed Malik's odd demeanor during dinner. "Come on, Malik! Genny's not only pretty but she's also got a great personality. What's not to like?" Marcus nudged Malik while drying a plate. "I wouldn't say dislike. I just worry she might be like Alora." The Trevinos were self-made, raising their children with strict traditional values. None knew the family's true status before graduating college. They'd thought Alora would pass the test too until she started complaining about their modest lifestyle. Recently, after a head injury, she'd woken up insisting she wasn't a Trevino by blood. She'd even sneaked off to the Chaneys for a DNA test. Within an hour of the results, she'd discarded the Trevino name. "Genny's different from Alora," Liam said firmly, watching Genevieve through the doorway. His gut told him she wouldn't be like Alora. "We'll see." Malik rinsed a glass. "Her 22nd birthday's next month. If she proves trustworthy, we'll throw her a grand homecoming party." Unaware of the kitchen discussion, Priscilla chatted animatedly with Genevieve. "Genny, are you still in school?" "I graduated last year. I was working at Chaney Group, but now..." Back when working at the Chaney Group, Samuel said he didn't want Genevieve to receive preferential treatment through connections. Thus, Genevieve remained at the Chaney Group as an intern. But rather than proper work, it was more like being an errand-running cleaner. "Don't worry." Priscilla patted her hand. "We'll have Malik get you a position at Trevino Group." "The Trevino Group? The company of the wealthiest family in Isondale?" Genevieve's eyes widened. She was surprised. Was Malik so capable? Perhaps realizing she'd spoken carelessly, Priscilla quickly backtracked, afraid Genevieve might notice something amiss. "Malik is at least a team leader at the Trevino Group. Getting you a position shouldn't be too difficult for him." She thought, "So Mom thinks a team leader has that much influence." "It's alright, Mom. A friend of mine happens to be hiring right now. I've already arranged an interview for tomorrow." "I see. Is the company far from home? How's the pay?" From Serein Estates to Zenith Group was about an hour's drive. It wasn't too far in her eyes. As for the salary... "Don't worry about the distance, Mom. As for the pay, I'll find out tomorrow at the interview." "Oh, alright. If you've got it handled, then I won't worry. "By the way, I've already prepared your room. Get some rest early so you're ready for tomorrow's interview." Though the small house wasn't spacious, with only three bedrooms, the Trevinos had originally set aside a room for Alora. But Priscilla worried Genevieve might feel uncomfortable staying in Alora's old room, so she had redecorated and furnished another one instead. After her shower, Genevieve lay in the modest bedroom. The room was small, but it had everything she needed. "So this is how having a family feels. I like it." Wrapped in lemon-scented blankets, Genevieve slept soundly through the night. The next morning after breakfast, Genevieve left the house with her three brothers. However, since she was heading in the opposite direction, the four parted ways at the neighborhood entrance. After walking about a kilometer from Serein Estates, Genevieve stopped before a Bentley. "Genny." "Let's head to Zenith Group." The Bentley made a U-turn and drove toward Zenith Group. Meanwhile, Malik had turned into an alley after leaving Serein Estates, where a Maybach was parked. "Mr. Trevino, shall we return to the company?" After changing clothes, Malik checked his watch. "To Zenith Group." The Maybach started smoothly and headed in the same direction. At a traffic light, the Bentley and Maybach came to a stop side by side. The Bentley's window rolled halfway down, revealing a striking profile. Malik glanced over casually, then froze. That person ... looked just like Genevieve... As he reached to lower his own window for a better look, the light turned green. The Bentley sped off, leaving exhaust fumes and its rear end in view. Malik thought, "Was I imagining things? But that really looked like her." And Genevieve had gone this same direction that morning. Was it a coincidence? As they neared Zenith Group, Malik spotted the familiar Bentley again. This time, the figure's silhouette seemed even more like Genevieve's, except the outfit was Idyll Chic's latest release, not the cheap office wear she'd worn earlier. The cheapest Idyll Chic piece cost over 130 thousand dollars. No way Genevieve could afford that. Shaking his head, Malik dismissed the absurd thought. "Raymond, go over today's schedule?" Genevieve sat in her chair, head bowed as she processed documents. "Nine AM, negotiate cooperation with the Trevino Group. Eleven AM, hold the routine meeting. Two PM..." "Wait, the Trevino Group? Which one?" Genevieve interrupted. "The one owned by the richest Trevino family in Isondale, of course." Raymond didn't understand why Genevieve suddenly asked this. The Trevino Group wasn't where Malik worked, was it? "Ms. Chaney, Mr. Trevino is here." Chapter 4 The Fair-Weather Woman Genevieve's phone suddenly rang. "Hello, what's it?" Genevieve's brows furrowed as she listened to what the other end said. "I'm on my way." Hanging up, she pinched the bridge of her nose, voice weary. "Raymond, I need to go out. Handle the Trevino Group negotiations." Without waiting for Raymond's response, Genevieve grabbed her coat and left the office, heading down the corridor. Meanwhile, Malik had just been led by staff to the office doorway. Seeing that retreating figure in the distance, he felt an inexplicable sense of having missed something. "Mr. Trevino, this way, please." Malik collected himself and entered. Having left Zenith Group, Genevieve drove herself to a private hospital with pleasant surroundings. The entire 18th floor comprised a single ward. Upon exiting the elevator, Genevieve saw a woman in a pink dress pacing anxiously by the door. "Sherlyn, how's Darrell?" "Genny! You're finally here!" Sherlyn Hayden looked ready to cry, pulling Genevieve toward the ward. "Darrell had been fine these past days, but today he suddenly went berserk and hurt the doctors and himself." "Calm down. I'll check on him first and see what to do." Genevieve patted Sherlyn's hand, comforting the tearful woman. Genevieve felt frustrated at the sight of Darrell Howard, who had just collapsed on the bed after exhausting himself during the outburst. Darrell, like Raymond, had once been her most capable and trusted aide. Three years ago, during an ambush, Darrell had stepped in at the critical moment to ensure Genevieve's escape, only to fall into enemy hands himself. By the time she found him, he wasn't dead, but he'd been injected with an experimental drug. Non-lethal, but designed to ravage the nervous system, turning its victims into frenzied beasts. Genevieve had poured vast resources into developing an antidote, only to hit a roadblock: it required ice lotus, a rare herb. She'd only seen it in her mentor's ancient texts. Years of searching had yielded nothing. "He should be fine after waking." Genevieve packed her treatment tools, wiping Sherlyn's tears. "Genny, still no leads on ice lotus? Darrell's violent episodes are becoming more frequent. I'm worried..." "Don't worry. I'll double our efforts to track both the herb and those bastards. Darrell will survive." Though she'd rescued Darrell, the masterminds remained at large. Finding them might mean securing the cure. Genevieve clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening, a vein throbbing at her temple. After calming Sherlyn, Genevieve left the hospital. Raymond called to update her that the Trevino Group deal was progressing smoothly. Slumping into the car seat, she exhaled. She glanced at her phone and realized that Priscilla's birthday was coming up soon. She decided to go and pick out a birthday gift for Priscilla. Priscilla usually dressed modestly and didn't like wearing jewelry. Thinking of Priscilla's gentle and graceful demeanor, Genevieve thought a bracelet would be perfect. "Can I take a look at this one?" Genevieve asked a sales clerk. "Excellent choice! This bracelet showcases excellent design and superb craftsmanship. The rich color palette is particularly striking!" Genevieve observed the bracelet. While not top-quality, it was decent enough. As for the price, something too expensive would raise suspicions, but this moderately priced piece could pass as savings. "Alright, please wrap this up for me." "Right away, miss!" Just as the sales clerk prepared to package the bracelet, a sweet yet grating voice interrupted, "Genevieve, it really is you." "So, it's you, the fair-weather woman," Genevieve retorted, crossing her arms as she faced Alora and Paulina Gibson. Originally, the Chaney family and the Gibson family had a marriage agreement. Genevieve was to marry into the Gibson family, but Paulina found Genevieve disagreeable in every way. Now that Alora had returned to the Chaneys, she'd replace Genevieve in marrying into the Gibson family. Now, Alora and Paulina seemed to get well along. "Genevieve! Who are you calling a fair-weather woman?" Paulina jabbed an accusing finger when Alora took offense. "Whoever answers to the name." Genevieve shrugged, utterly unbothered. "You..." "Paula, don't be upset. Genevieve didn't mean it like that." Alora restrained Paulina, her choked voice oozing false magnanimity. Genevieve's eyebrow arched as she assessed Alora's new Chanel dress and diamond necklace, likely Idyll Chic's latest 300-thousand-dollar piece. The Chaneys clearly spoiled their returned princess rotten. Noticing Genevieve's gaze on her necklace, Alora caressed the pendant on it. "Genevieve, are you looking at my necklace? Father gifted me this Idyll Chic limited edition. Isn't it exquisite? "If you like it, maybe your dad can buy you one too." Alora suddenly gasped, covering her mouth in fake remorse. "Oh wait, my bad! This necklace costs over 300 thousand dollars. Even if the Trevinos worked themselves to the bone, they still couldn't save enough to afford it in thirty years." The sales clerk side-eyed Genevieve. If her family was that poor, how was she buying a bracelet worth over 100 thousand? "Thirty years?" Paulina sneered. "Those paupers wouldn't scrape together enough in fifty!" The Trevinos had doted on Alora, but they'd made her suffer financially. Only Paulina's brother's warning about "ungrateful" rumors stopped her from exiling them from Isondale. "Paulina, don't say that," Alora chided. "Her brothers are capable. They might get promotions and become rich!" "Promotions?" Paulina scoffed. "They'll still be employees. How much can they even earn? They'll still be poor." "No way, Paula. Look at what she's wearing today. It's Idyll Chic's new collection. I remember this outfit costs over 130 thousand dollars." Paulina doubted that. Those penniless Trevino family wretches could afford to buy Genevieve such clothes? She wore a mocking expression and let out a cold laugh. "Over 130 thousand dollars? More like a 13-dollar knockoff. A fraud like her only deserves to wear fakes." Alora uttered, "But her clothes don't look counterfeit to me." "Alora, you're so naive. Someone like her could never afford Idyll Chic's new releases." Having said this, Paulina called out to the clerk again, "Hey, she's just some pauper who can't afford this bracelet. Don't let her fool you." The clerk glanced at Genevieve, then at Alora and Paulina. She didn't recognize Alora, but Paulina was the Gibson Group's heiress, someone she often saw at the Dior boutique next door. She returned the jade bracelet to the counter and said to Genevieve, "Miss, I'm sorry. We can't sell this bracelet to you. Please leave." Chapter 5 Slap Them "Leave?" Genevieve arched a brow, casually taking a seat. She propped her chin on one hand while the other tapped the counter with a single finger. "Hey, Genevieve, are you deaf? She told you to get out!" Paulina yelled. Ignoring her, Genevieve pulled out a sleek black card with gold trim and slid it toward the clerk. "Now, can you wrap it up for me?" "It's the Supreme Black Card, limited to just three in the entire mall!" The clerk's eyes lit up as she took the card, immediately bowing apologetically. "My sincerest apologies, miss! I'll package the bracelet for you right away!" She hurriedly retrieved the bracelet from the display and began carefully wrapping it. "No way! How could you have a Black Card?!" Paulina cried out. Alora might not have known what it meant, but Paulina did. This wasn't just any card, but one of only three ever issued by Spotlight Mall. The holder could spend without limits, and more importantly, obtaining one required not just wealth, but power. Even the prestigious Gibson family of Isondale only had a card with an 800-thousand-dollar limit. So how the hell did Genevieve, of all people, get her hands on a Black Card?! "Why wouldn't I have one?" Genevieve smirked. "I could pull out ten of these if I wanted." After all, she owned Spotlight Mall. She could get as many similar cards as she wanted. "You're just a fraud! That card has to be fake!" Paulina couldn't believe it. She turned to the staff. "Don't fall for her scam!" The clerk paid Paulina no mind, swiftly completing the transaction before handing the card and bracelet to Genevieve. "Here you are, miss. Your card and bracelet." "No... No way! How did it actually go through?!" Paulina snatched the card from the clerk's hands, flipping it over repeatedly as if searching for flaws. "Done staring?" Genevieve reclaimed it with ease. Paulina still refused to believe it. "I get it now. This belongs to your sugar daddy, doesn't it?" Genevieve was amused that Paulina had quite the imagination. "Paulina, how could you say that? Genevieve would never stoop to finding a sugar daddy!" Alora's eyes gleamed at the accusation, though she pretended to defend Genevieve by tugging Paulina's sleeve. "Alora, how else would she get a Black Card?" Paulina sneered. "Tsk tsk. I never thought you'd whore yourself out for money, Genevieve. Disgusting. "But I guess it makes sense. After living in luxury with the Chaneys, slumming it with the Trevinos must be rough. "I'm curious. Is your sugar daddy older than your father?" A sharp slap landed on Paulina's cheek when she was laughing heartily. "Genevieve! How dare you..." Then came another slap. "Genevieve! You can't hit Paulina! She's a Gibson!" Alora shielded Paulina, though her lips twitched upward. She thought, "This idiot actually struck a Gibson? She's done for. "I haven't even decided how to handle her yet, and she already dug her own grave. Total dumbass." "I almost forgot you." Genevieve cracked her knuckles before delivering two stinging slaps to Alora's face. "These are for your ingratitude. The Trevinos raised you. They never let you go hungry or cold, yet you let trash insult them? Even a pet knows loyalty." She turned back to Paulina. "Ms. Gibson, you speak of sugar daddies so freely. You must be quite familiar with such arrangements. Does the Gibson fortune not satisfy you, or is this some twisted fetish?" "Genevieve! How dare you!" Paulina lunged to hit her, fury overriding the sting on her face. Genevieve wouldn't back off. She caught Paulina's raised hand mid-air and smacked another stinging slap across her face. This time, Paulina's cheek swelled even more, her lip splitting at the corner with a faint trickle of blood. The force of the blow sent her crashing to the floor, dazed and disoriented. "Paula! Paula, are you okay?!" Alora rushed to her side, panic rising. If the Gibsons blamed her for Paulina's injury, she was screwed. "Guess I'm a little out of practice," Genevieve mused, flexing her wrist. As she walked past the two, she paused. "Wearing Idyll Chic only drags its name through the mud when it's on trash like you." Alora clenched her fists, watching Genevieve leave, exclaiming inwardly, "You stole my life for years, Genevieve. I will make you pay!" After exiting the store, Genevieve made a call and headed toward the mall exit until a commotion erupted near a crowded shop. Normally, she'd ignore it, but this was her property. If something went wrong, the liability fell on Spotlight Mall. "Honey, how are you feeling? Don't scare me!" Pushing through the crowd, she found an elderly man collapsed on the floor, face twisted in agony as he clutched his chest. A woman knelt beside him, frantic. "Honey, hold on! The ambulance is coming!" "Ma'am, let me check him." Genevieve crouched down, assessing his blue-tinged lips, labored breathing, and ashen skin. It should be acute myocardial infarction. "Does he have a history of heart disease?" "No! He's always been healthy!" Could it be spontaneous cardiac arrest? Genevieve frowned as she unzipped her bag and pulled out a slim tool case. "Young lady... y-you're a doctor?" "I am." "Thank God! Please help my husband!" Genevieve nodded, retrieving a special tool when a sharp voice cut in, "Hold it! You don't look like any doctor I've ever seen!" Darren Griffith, a bespectacled man in his forties, pushed forward. "And you are?" "A surgeon at Monsoon Hospital." Monsoon Hospital was Isondale's top medical institution, where even junior doctors held dual master's degrees. "Young lady, an ambulance is coming. Don't play hero with this man's life." "By then, he'll be dead." The patient's lips darkened to violet, his breaths shallowing. He wouldn't make it that long. "Nonsense! This gentleman's condition is completely stable enough to last until the ambulance arrives. Don't risk his life just to show off!" "Show off?" Genevieve almost laughed. "Let me guess. You're about to try some special treatment on him. He's having an acute myocardial infarction right now. Don't tell me you plan to rely on traditional medicine to save him." "Where's your medical license? How dare you use that so-called skills..." "No time for this." Though the man's condescension rankled, lives came first. Ignoring his rant, Genevieve started her treatment. "Hey! Why wouldn't you listen to me? I trained under Kareem Dunlap! You really think..." Darren's words died as the impossible happened before his eyes. Chapter 6 Slander The elderly patient's breathing gradually steadied, his oxygen-starved lips regaining their natural color. Genevieve took his wrist, checking his pulse. Nearby, Alora, who had been about to take Paulina to the hospital, spotted Genevieve through the crowd and frowned. "Huh? Is that Genevieve? What's she doing?" Paulina followed her gaze and stiffened. "Genevieve is ... treating someone? Since when did that bitch know medicine?" In her memories, Genevieve had been too busy groveling to the Chaneys and Gibsons to even focus on school and she'd nearly failed to graduate. How could she have possibly studied medicine? Paulina's eyes gleamed, her stinging cheek momentarily forgotten. "Come on. Let's check it out." Dragging Alora with her, she pushed through the crowd just as Genevieve finished withdrawing her tools. Noticing the well-dressed elderly couple, Paulina came up with an idea. "Oh? Genevieve, what's this? Playing doctor now? You've never studied medicine. Can you face the consequences if something goes wrong?" Genevieve ignored her, calmly packing her special tools before offering the old man a small pill. "He'll be fine, ma'am. Just get some rest for a few days." "Thank you, young lady! Thank you!" The woman's eyes welled up as she clutched Genevieve's hands. My pleasure. But I'd still recommend a full check-up at the hospital." "Yes, yes, we'll go right away!" Genevieve smiled and turned to leave. She'd already wasted too much time, and Priscilla would worry if she stayed out much longer. But Paulina stepped in front of her, arms crossed. "Stop right there! Who said you could leave?" "Move." Genevieve's voice was cold. "Make me." Paulina jutted her chin out defiantly, her hands on her hips. "Seems you still haven't learned your lesson, Ms. Gibson." Genevieve flexed her wrist, smiling at Paulina's swollen cheek. "W-what are you doing? Genevieve, there are witnesses here! I'm not afraid of you!" Paulina stumbled backward, hiding behind Alora as the memory of those stinging slaps resurfaced. "Alora, help me!" "What an idiot!" Alora suppressed a scowl, cursing inwardly. "Pick fights she can't win and then drag me into it?" But when she considered that after marrying into the Gibson family, Paulina would become her sister-in-law, she couldn't actually just stand by. Otherwise, the Gibson family would surely blame her. She stepped forward with a plastic smile. "Genevieve, Paulina just ... misspoke. Don't hold it against her." Her words dripped poison, subtly telling the crowd: This fraud has no medical training. Murmurs erupted in the crowd. "She claimed to be a doctor, right?" "Is she a fraud?" "But the man recovered after her treatment." "Exactly! Genevieve, you've never studied medicine, but you're here deceiving people and 'treating' a patient!" Paulina stepped out from behind Alora, pointing at Genevieve and shouting. "Everyone, I've known this woman for over twenty years. I swear, she's never had any medical training! "Not only that, she's a thief who replaced my friend's place to live a privileged life! Her birth family are all penniless nobodies! "She probably can't get used to living in poverty after reuniting with her real parents. She's some rich man's mistress, and now trying to scam these well-dressed elderly folks!" Paulina declared loudly. "Genevieve, if anything happens to this elderly man, you'll be held accountable for murder!" Paulina's words caused the crowd to murmur. "So, she's a homewrecker!" "This woman looks decent. How could she do such shameless things!" "And she actually dares to play doctor. How reckless! She doesn't seem to mind whatever the consequences at all." Listening to the murmurs around her, Genevieve arched an eyebrow with a cold smile. "It seems I've been too lenient with you two." "What, Genevieve? Are you embarrassed because you got exposed?" Paulina taunted. "There are witnesses here. If you dare hit me, I'll call the police!" Paulina felt emboldened as public opinion was on her side now. "Call the police? Excellent. You'll get into trouble for slander and defamation." Paulina faltered. Though she'd repeatedly called Genevieve a mistress and a fraud, she had no actual proof. Seeing Paulina choke, Alora cursed her inwardly for a fool. "Genevieve, Paula only worried you'd gone astray. Don't blame her." Genevieve knew that Alora always incited hotheaded Paulina to confront her, while Alora herself stayed back and watched. Genevieve snorted and pointed at the middle-aged man who had claimed to be a doctor earlier. "Isn't there a doctor here? Whether I cured the patient or not, let him take a look." Every gaze turned to the man who'd mocked Genevieve moments ago. Darren man cleared his throat and examined the patient's condition. "Ahem... the patient is indeed stable now." Alora and Paulina froze. Could Genevieve actually know medicine? No way! She'd spent years groveling before the Chaneys and Gibsons. When would she have had time to study? "But..." Darren added. "But what?! Spit it out!" Paulina snapped, impatient. "But we'd need professional equipment to confirm his true condition. This could just be a superficial improvement. "I've heard traditional medicine can briefly stimulate meridians to revive patients without actually curing them." "Ha! I knew it! Genevieve's a fraud!" Paulina crowed. Darren sneered at Genevieve. "Young lady, even if you bought him some time, delaying proper treatment could cost his life. That's on you." Already biased against traditional medicine, and with Paulina and Alora insisting Genevieve was untrained, he dismissed her outright. He assumed she had just used some method to keep the patient alive for now. After all, he was a disciple of Kareem Dunlap - the renowned medical authority whom countless people begged to study under. He himself had only become Kareem's nominal student after persistent pleading and generous gifts. There was no way someone as young as Genevieve could surpass even him, let alone Kareem Dunlap. Seeing Darren and Paulina echoing each other, Genevieve smiled with mockery. Just as she was about to respond, a group of doctors and nurses rushed over. "Make way, please!" A doctor crouched beside the patient and checked his condition. "Brad, is my husband going to be okay?" The elderly woman seemed to know him. Bradford Castillo listened to the patient's heartbeat, examined his eyelids, and then exhaled in relief. "Don't worry, ma'am. He's stable for now, but we'll need to run tests at the hospital to be sure." The woman nodded and stepped back as the nurses prepared to lift his husband onto a stretcher. "Wait." Chapter 7 How Dare You Call Traditional Medicine Useless? Genevieve called out to Bradford. "Miss, what's wrong?" Bradford frowned. Matthew Compton was stable for now, but anything could change. They needed to get him to the hospital as soon as possible to avoid delaying treatment. Genevieve said, "I want to tell you. When you check his heart, check his lungs too." She found a lung issue when she took Matthew's pulse earlier. She hadn't said much then to avoid worrying his wife. She just suggested a full check-up for Matthew. Now that a doctor was here and seemed familiar with them, she figured it was fine to add a reminder. "Lungs?" Bradford was skeptical, thinking, "I've been handling his check-ups, and the last report didn't mention any lung issues. Is she trying to trick me?" Paulina said, "Genevieve, he's a professional doctor. You're a scammer. You'd better keep quiet." "Scammer?" Bradford's eyes darkened as he sized up Genevieve. Paulina nodded. "Yeah. Didn't you know? Genevieve is a scammer. She learned some shady tricks and pretends to be a doctor." "Shady tricks? Pretending to be a doctor?" Seeing how calm Genevieve was, Bradford couldn't picture her as a scammer. "If you don't believe me, ask this guy. He's a doctor too!" Paulina pointed at Darren. Darren cleared his throat and straightened up. "Yeah, this girl learned some weird stuff. She stimulated some parts of his body to keep Matthew hanging on. Don't be fooled. He seems fine, but it's all an illusion from that weird stuff." "Weird stuff?" Bradford found it amusing. He just examined Matthew. It was an acute heart attack, but the critical period had passed. "You're saying she just saved Matthew?" asked Bradford. Hearing Bradford's doubt, Paulina and Darren were even more convinced Genevieve had harmed Matthew. Paulina hurriedly said, "Yeah, that's right! Matthew was harmed by Genevieve!" "I told her not to move him. Just wait for the ambulance. But she wouldn't listen. What a pity. She's so pretty. How could she be a scammer?" said Darren. Though Darren seemed regretful, he was secretly delighted inside. "You two idiots. You don't know anything. Cut your nonsense." Bradford rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand their stupidity. "How dare you curse at us!" Paulina's face turned red. With her puffy cheeks, she looked kind of ridiculous. "Because I'm a doctor and you're an idiot. If she hadn't stepped in, Matthew wouldn't have made it till the ambulance came," said Bradford. "H-how is that even possible?" Paulina and Alora exchanged glances, their eyes wide with disbelief. They wondered, "Could Genevieve really know anything about medicine?" "Impossible!" Darren shook his head. He looked at Genevieve and then at Bradford. "You're in cahoots, right? You're just putting on a show! "A young girl saving someone with something as useless as traditional medicine? No way!" "Useless?" Genevieve's eyes darkened, a hint of killing intent showing. "How dare you call traditional medicine useless?" As Genevieve approached, Darren felt a chill. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "W-what do you want to do?" Genevieve didn't say a word. She just kicked him in the stomach. "As a doctor, you should know Gatriula is famous for traditional medicine. It's been around for thousands of years and has saved countless lives. How can you call it useless?" snapped Genevieve. Darren was kicked back a meter. He sat on the ground, clutching his aching stomach. His face was twisted in pain. He insisted, "Traditional medicine is useless! It can't compare to modern medicine!" Darren had studied abroad since he was a kid and received the best education. He looked down on everything in Gatriula. If his mom hadn't forced him to come back, he would have stayed abroad, living a high-paying, carefree life. "When traditional medicine was saving lives, your so-called modern medicine was nothing! The people who invented modern medicine haven't even been born yet!" Genevieve clenched her fists, holding back the urge to kick Darren to death. This was in a shopping mall, and more people were gathering. It wasn't the place for a big scene. If it were in the wilderness, she would tear Darren apart. Darren shouted, "Nonsense! Modern medicine is the real deal. Traditional medicine is nothing. You're in cahoots with this guy, trying to use Matthew's life to show off. You're playing with people's lives!" Paulina and Alora, stunned by Genevieve, snapped back to reality when Darren shouted. Paulina said, "That's right. You're definitely putting on a show. You're not taking Matthew away." Alora persuaded, "Genevieve, don't be so stubborn. If you delay his treatment, you'll really be a murderer." Paulina and Alora blocked the way, acting like they were heroes. "A show? I, Bradford, wouldn't stoop to acting with anyone. Move out of the way." Bradford's patience was wearing thin. If he didn't have a rule against hitting women, he would have kicked Paulina and Alora out of the way ages ago. "Bradford?" Darren was a bit stunned. "Y-you're saying you're Bradford?" Bradford was one of the most outstanding and relatively young genius doctors in Gatriula. He was relatively young because there was another genius, no, a prodigy doctor, even younger than him. "N-no, it can't be. How could you be Bradford?" Darren had thought Bradford looked familiar but couldn't remember. It was only when Bradford introduced himself that it finally hit him. At an academic conference before, Bradford gave a speech on stage, but Darren was too far away to see clearly. Now, looking closely, this young man in front of him did look a bit like Bradford. "If I'm not Bradford, are you?" Bradford retorted. Both Paulina and Alora wondered, "Who is Bradford?" They usually didn't pay attention to such things, so naturally, they didn't know who Bradford was. "Bradford, could he be that genius doctor from Monsoon Hospital?" "No way. Isn't this guy also from Monsoon Hospital? Hasn't he met Mr. Castillo?" The whispers reached Paulina and Alora's ears clearly. They thought, "If this guy is really a genius doctor, then what he said about Genevieve saving Matthew is true!" "Oh? You're from Monsoon Hospital?" Bradford raised an eyebrow and sneered. "If Monsoon Hospital has trash like you, it really stains the place." Genevieve was also a bit surprised. She hadn't expected that the person in front of her was Bradford, who was known as one of the two great talents of Monsoon Hospital along with Valentina. Darren was completely stunned. He sat on the ground, his eyes blank, mumbling, "It's impossible. It's impossible." Bradford didn't feel like arguing with Darren anymore. He looked at Paulina and Alora, who were still blocking the way, and his expression turned sour. "Excuse me, please move." Paulina and Alora looked at each other and were about to move when they heard Genevieve's voice. "No need to trouble them. Mr. Castillo, I'll clear the way for you right away."
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Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help. Chapter 8 A Teenage Girl? [Security Hub]: A sudden, concentrated elite force is launching an unprecedented, high-intensity hybrid attack on three of our nation's core network nodes. The attackers are exploiting several extremely tricky low-level protocol vulnerabilities and logic bombs that we've never encountered before. Our standard defense systems are being devoured. Two nodes are already showing signs of instability. We estimate we can hold out for another hour and a half at most. We're counting on you! Natalie's gaze froze for a split second. The reality was likely even worse than they described. An hour and a half... the clock was definitely ticking. If the core nodes were breached, the resulting damage and chain reaction would be catastrophic. Natalie thought for only two seconds before typing her reply. [Unknown Visitor]: Fine. [Security Hub]: Where are you located, sir? We will dispatch a private jet to pick you up immediately. The complexity and danger of the situation had escalated beyond what remote assistance could handle. This likely involved state-level espionage and sabotage. Dealing with the source, the methods, and the risk of internal moles required a high-security, physically isolated environment and specialized hardware. Remote access was too risky. If she were counter-traced or the signal was jammed, the consequences would be dire. Furthermore, certain vulnerabilities within specific hardware or closed networks required a hands-on approach. [Unknown Visitor]: No need. I'll be there in an hour. She didn't move immediately after hitting send. First, she powered down the hotel laptop and wiped every trace of her session. Then, from a hidden compartment in her backpack, she pulled out a silver USB drive no bigger than a thumb. Natalie headed out and called Blondie. "Yo, Boss, what's up?" "Pick me up. We're going to Harbor City", Natalie said. "Got it!" Blondie replied. ***** Seaside City and Harbor City were neighbors. With a fast car, they arrived in exactly one hour. The black SUV pulled up in front of an unassuming grey building in Harbor City, heavily guarded and nondescript. This was a regional headquarters for the National Cyber Security Agency. It looked like a standard research institute on the outside, but the internal security was maximum-grade. Natalie stepped out of the car. A stern-faced middle-aged officer with high-ranking insignia hurried to meet her, flanked by tech officials and security detail. "You... you're 73?" the officer stammered. Disbelief washed over them. How could this eighteen-year-old girl be the elite hacker who had just sent shockwaves through the international community? Natalie stood before him, her face an unreadable mask of calm. "Yeah." The officer suppressed his shock. This operation was top-secret; there was no room for error. He extended a hand, showing no trace of condescension, only urgency. "I'm Richard Chamberlain, head of the department. Please, follow me." Natalie gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Lead the way." Richard turned quickly, leading her through layers of checkpoints into the core command center deep underground. On a massive wraparound screen, flashing red alerts and chaotic data streams screamed of the crisis at hand. The air was thick with tension. Dozens of the country's top tech experts were huddled together, brows drenched in sweat. When they noticed the arrival of this impossibly young, serene girl, the entire room froze for a heartbeat. Countless eyes turned toward her, filled with shock, doubt, and blatant irritation. Natalie ignored them entirely. Her eyes went straight to the main screen, dissecting the data streams with surgical precision. After less than three seconds, she walked toward the central terminal, the one with master-level system access. She pulled out a chair and sat down. She plugged in the silver USB, her fingers dancing across the keys so fast they became a blur. The screen didn't show the standard interface they all knew. Instead, it flipped to a stark, almost primitive environment filled with strange symbols and dynamic data flows. The commands she typed weren't standard code, they looked like a highly condensed "language." "What is she doing?" a senior firewall expert whispered, scowling. "Those aren't standard protocol instructions! It looks like... some homemade script? This is a joke!" "Mr. Chamberlain, this is no time for an amateur to play around!" an old man in charge of encryption added sharply. "Every second counts!" "Why is she deleting all our previous code?" someone blurted out. The voices of doubt were harsh against the tense backdrop. Richard's face was grim. He was about to speak when Natalie's cold voice cut through the noise, though she didn't even turn around: "The attackers are planting a parasitic virus. Your standard scans won't find it because it's living inside the protocol interpreter itself. If I don't wipe the existing instructions, it will masquerade as a legitimate process and keep leaking data until your kernel is completely compromised," she said. Natalie's voice didn't waver; she was stating a simple fact. "What I'm deleting is the redundant and camouflaged layer that's already been corrupted and reinforced against you," she added. As she spoke, a hidden data stream flared bright on the screen, its abnormal pattern obvious. "Purge command: Loading 'Parasite Strip' microkernel. Preparing for forced extraction." Almost the moment she finished, a technician gasped, "Verification confirmed! I found the rogue process! Attempting 'Parasite Strip'... It worked! Rogue process deleted! Leak risk neutralized!" The command center fell into stunned silence. The experts who had just been mocking her froze, their expressions shifting to pure, unadulterated shock. They had been fighting for hours and couldn't even pin down the attack's location. This girl had not only found a parasite buried in the deepest layer of the protocol stack within seconds but had also deployed an instant fix. And that 'Parasite Strip' microkernel? They had never even heard of such a thing! The brief silence was shattered by a frantic alarm. "Damn it! The attack pattern on the other node just shifted! High-energy pulsed logic impact! Defensive bandwidth is 90% saturated!" The technician monitoring global traffic screamed in terror. On the screen, that sector turned a blinding deep crimson. The data traffic curve spiked vertically, like a volcanic eruption hitting its limit! This was an incredibly violent, almost suicidal attack. They were burning resources without regard for the cost, trying to crush the defenses through sheer brute force.
For three years, she poured her heart and soul into being a housewife, only to be met with betrayal from her husband, prompting her to walk away without a second thought. Upon their reunion, he pleaded on his knees for her help in saving his company, unaware that she was a leading designer, seasoned doctor, and proficient hacker! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1 Kicked Out "Get out!" David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?" "You've humiliated this entire Grant family!" "Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. "She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat." Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door. "Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!" Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. "I didn't take it," she said. Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up. No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?" "The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!" "Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore." The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?" "Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal." "You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon." "Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash." ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room. Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. "Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag. "Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart." She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..." She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. "Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it." Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?" "You..." Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. "Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!" Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. "It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..." she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside." He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house." Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. "You know exactly who took it, don't you?" "Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick." Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less. If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore's last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy. Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be. "Shit!" Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: "You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour." Natalie: "..." She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..." Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. "Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly. "Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too." He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. "Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City." A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture. Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test! "It's her. This is my baby girl!" Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?" William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. "Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home." "I'm coming with you, Andrew." This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity. "How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?" The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar." "However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..." He trailed off. "What happened today? Spit it out!" Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration. He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge. "Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..." "So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is." Before he could finish, the door slammed open. Blake Mitchell stormed in. His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy. The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld. He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet. "The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine. "The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!" Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike. Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing. The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go." Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled." William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now." "Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest. "I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!" "Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!" Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit. Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded. "Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her." "Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp. Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him. Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City. ***** While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor. With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444. There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped. Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down. Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump. "Holy...!" he blurted out. The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it. Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?" Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face. Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago. The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe. It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss. Chapter 3 He's My Uncle Lewis: "..." He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time. He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat. Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face. The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly. Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura. Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it. "My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part," Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this." Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal. "Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up." He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them. "Fine," Natalie replied. Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it. She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me." She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat. "Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime." He handed her his business card. Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore." Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions. The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately." Natalie followed the manager into the elevator. Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register." Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway. His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth. "Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person." Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family. It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own. After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn. When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons. Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it. But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first. So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen. The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word. Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that. "Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied. He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes. He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy. They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent. Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809. Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock. After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?" Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up." The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack. Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks. When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear. Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?" Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions. His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?" Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer. After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle." Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow." Just then, the door to 1808 opened. A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack. Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck. Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features. She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze. In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted. The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache. Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie. She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam. "Natalie, what are you doing here?" Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone. "They... they were all so mean to me... waah..." The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless. Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on? Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny. Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly. She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it. After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly. "Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle." Chapter 4 Hacker 73 "She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore." Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod. "Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends." Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face. "Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier." Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled." Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry. "Hello. Henry Pierce." Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles. Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake. "Natalie Moore." Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?" "Yeah." "I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry." He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying." "Why's that?" Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself. Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head. Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever. The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business. He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up. "Because I don't have parents." Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn. The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now. He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth. Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh? Interesting...' he mused. Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her. Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed." It was a statement, not a request. She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way. Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it." Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow." "Mhm, will do!" Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute. Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..." She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809. "Yeah. Get some rest." Only after hearing that did she finally close her door. As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her." "Yes, sir." ***** Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie." "Yo, Boss!" A male voice boomed through the receiver. "What's up?" The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!" Natalie: "..." She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it." "Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!" Blondie wasn't giving up. "Style?" Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?" "Uh... cough..." Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..." "Anything else? Or can I hang up?" Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off. "Wait, wait! There's actually something!" He quickly pivoted before she could end the call. "Speak." Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?" Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why. A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad. The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm. Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network. Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!" That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight. Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours. Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them. Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought. Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you." Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them." ***** The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over. There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside. "Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand. "Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well. Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning." Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss." Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original? "Thanks." Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside. Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run. He never expected her life to be such a tragedy... She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years. Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself. And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep. She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one. Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years. Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. "Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us." Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks." Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!" Natalie: "...Heh." They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last. Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it. To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess. Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl! Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!" ***** In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second. Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before! Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby. Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet. The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them. Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance. A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint. Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry." "Mhm." Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them. Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..." Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat. The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world. The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere. Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past. She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck. The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace. The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility. Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight. Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment. Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror. With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock. He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that. Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Holy crap! No way. Is the ice king actually thawing? But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six... Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror. Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving. Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept. The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines. Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark. "If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?" MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper. No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant. She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood. Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm." Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack." "Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it." Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop. But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm. Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel. He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that! A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off... MOIRÉ pieces were usually locked away in private collections. They were priceless treasures, and here was Miss Moore, just using it as an everyday school bag?! Chapter 6 A Loser Like Her? Rosie was so stunned she forgot to be scared, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The legendary MOIRÉ! The Rowans were one of the top families in Seaside City, yet her snobbish older sister had begged for ages and still couldn't get a single WT. piece, not even a freebie. And Natalie actually had a one-of-a-kind backpack! Rosie had never really looked at her bag before. Natalie was always so low-key, and the bag looked so worn, just like her, it radiated a simple "don't bother me" vibe. ***** Ten minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly at the police line outside the exam center. Lewis turned around. "Miss Rowan, Miss Moore, the road is blocked ahead. You'll have to walk from here." "Okay." The two girls got out. Before they left, Lewis kindly wished them both the best of luck on their SAT exams. Henry added, "Just do your best." Lewis nodded in agreement. Even though Rosie wasn't much of a student, the exam was just a formality, the Boss would take care of her future regardless. "Thanks, Uncle Henry!" Rosie chirped back, her voice much lighter now that she was out of that high-pressure car environment. Natalie gave another slight nod toward the car as a silent goodbye, then turned and blended into the crowd heading for the gates. The area was packed with anxious parents and students heading into "battle," the air thick with nerves. Rosie took a deep breath, linking arms with Natalie. "Good luck! Natalie, we can do this!" Natalie kept her pace steady and gave a simple "Mhm," her calm eyes fixed on the distant entrance. The black Bentley didn't leave immediately. Henry watched the girls' receding backs through the window. He saw Rosie chatting excitedly while Natalie responded with an occasional nod. Natalie dropped her non-exam gear in a locker. She and Rosie were in different buildings. Hers was the one in the back. She didn't head inside until twenty minutes before the start. The moment she stepped into the room, there was a collective gasp. "Holy... she's gorgeous." "Damn, what a look." "Isn't that the school belle from Seaside High? Being in the same room as her for two days is pure luck!" ***** Natalie ignored the whispers and walked straight to Seat 30 in the corner. Sensing an unfriendly gaze, she glanced sideways. It was Isabelle Grant. Isabelle was wearing heavy makeup and a brand-new Dior mini dress. She flashed a fake smile at Natalie, but since the proctors were already inside, she didn't speak. Isabelle hid her jealousy behind a grin and raised a hand to wave, but Natalie just gave her a lazy look and turned away. Isabelle's smile froze, her hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Silence spoke volumes. The other students didn't say anything, but Isabelle could feel their mocking stares. She was fuming. Bitch! How can she show up here so calm and composed after being kicked out with nothing? By what right?! She should be a mess, covered in dirt. Honestly, she shouldn't even have been able to afford the exam! What really made Isabelle's skin crawl was Natalie's face. Even without a drop of makeup, she was breathtaking, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. Even the proctors couldn't help but sneak a few looks. Compared to Natalie's natural, cool elegance, Isabelle's carefully curated outfit and makeup suddenly felt forced and tacky. Damn her! What does this brat have? Just that seductive face? If her dead grandmother hadn't been blind enough to adopt her, she never would have been able to call herself a Grant! The Grants gave her a roof, and instead of being grateful, she has the nerve to steal my spotlight! Isabelle gripped her pen so hard her nails dug into her palms. Fine, let her take the test. So what? With her grades, she's going to be the laughingstock of the city! The thought gave her some comfort. She was the rightful eldest daughter of the Grant family. What could a loser like Natalie possibly offer to compete with her? ***** The exam began as the proctors handed out the papers. First up: Literature. Natalie took one casual look at the paper and started writing. Her pen moved with incredible speed, never pausing. It glided across the answer sheet with a steady, rhythmic scratching sound. She didn't look like someone taking a life-altering exam; she looked like she was breezing through a simple homework assignment. She was relaxed, almost bored. Less than an hour in, while Isabelle was still struggling with a classical text translation, she saw Natalie put down her pen out of the corner of her eye. Without even bothering to double-check, Natalie flipped her paper over and folded her arms on the desk. Then, she rested her head down, clearly settling in for a nap! Isabelle froze for a second, then a wave of contempt and satisfaction washed over her. I knew it. She's a total airhead! She doesn't even know how to fake it! Giving up this early on such an important test and sleeping in public? The rumors about her being a failing, uneducated delinquent were spot on! A piece of trash like her doesn't deserve to be in the same room as me. Even if you finished early, you were confined to a separate room until the end anyway. Might as well sleep at the desk. Natalie only woke up when the final bell rang. She packed her things and stretched her neck just as the proctor finished collecting the papers and announced they could leave. The gates opened, and students flooded out like a tide. Outside the lines, beside the anxious parents, a swarm of reporters waited to catch the first "scoop" of the day. Isabelle was immediately surrounded by two reporters as she emerged. She instantly fixed her expression into a sweet, poised smile for the camera. "The Literature exam was quite fair. The essay prompt was creative and required some deep thought, but I read a lot in my spare time, so it felt pretty smooth..." Her voice was gentle and her words well-chosen—the perfect image of an honors student. But before she could finish, a different group of cameras suddenly swiveled elsewhere. Even the reporters interviewing her instinctively turned their heads. Natalie was strolling out, her backpack slung over one shoulder, unhurried. Her clean, makeup-free face and cool aura made her stand out like she was under a spotlight. She looked completely indifferent. Chapter 7 Just Average "Excuse me, please wait a second!" The reporter who had just been interviewing Isabelle Grant rushed over, shoving the microphone almost directly into Natalie Moore's face. "Hi there! We're from Seaside TV. Could we have a moment? You're so striking, are you an arts major?" Natalie paused for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered, "No." The reporter pressed on, "What did you think of the difficulty of today's Literature exam? Especially the essay prompt?" She spoke without a hint of emotion, her voice clear and calm: "It was average." "Average?" The reporter froze for a beat, then followed up, "Do you mean it was moderate? How do you feel you performed?" Natalie thought about it, but deciding "average" covered it, she said nothing more. With a slight nod, she sidestepped the reporter and walked straight out of the crowd. Her answer was so brief it bordered on dismissive, and her attitude was anything but warm. After a moment of shock, the reporters grew even more excited. They shouted a few more questions, but Natalie was already gone, leaving only the sight of her slender, poised back. The commotion drew the attention of more students and parents, completely stealing Isabelle Grant's spotlight. Isabelle's smile finally crumbled, her teeth gritted in silent fury. "Average?" Cut the crap, you fake. Did that nap scramble your brain? I bet you didn't even read the essay prompt, you pathetic loser! Enjoy your little spotlight while it lasts. Once the results are out, I'll make sure this interview goes viral as the biggest joke on the internet! We'll see who has the last laugh! The black Bentley remained parked in place. Passersby stared curiously but didn't dare look too closely. A car from Harbor City with a license plate like that meant the owner was someone incredibly powerful. Rosie Rowan got in. Lewis remained silent, but Henry Pierce surprisingly spoke up: "Where is she?" Rosie had just buckled her seatbelt. Hearing her uncle's question, she blinked before realizing who "she" was. "Natalie?" "She booked a room at a hotel nearby. She's not coming with us." Rosie knew Natalie hated being a burden, she had very firm boundaries. Hearing this, Henry looked back out at the bustling crowd. His face was unreadable as he gave a barely audible "Mhm." Lewis pressed his lips together, sensing the mood. "Shall we head back to the estate, sir?" Henry gave a nod of approval. The estate was one of the Pierce family's properties in Seaside City. ***** The afternoon session was Math. The second the papers were handed out, the room was filled with muffled gasps and low groans. This year's Math paper was arguably the hardest in years. The questions were unconventional and tricky, requiring massive calculations. Even top-tier students were breaking into cold sweats. Even the first five multiple-choice questions—usually easy points—took quite a bit of time to solve. Looking at the dense clusters of symbols and diagrams, Isabelle felt her palms grow damp. There were several major problems where she couldn't even find a starting point. Her heart began to race. She instinctively glanced toward the corner out of the corner of her eye. Natalie was as nonchalant as ever. She scanned the entire paper once before picking up her pen at a leisurely pace. To Isabelle, this looked like pure laziness. With a paper this hard, she'll probably just write 'Solution' and leave the rest blank! In less than an hour and a half, while most students were still desperately wrestling with the penultimate problem, Natalie put her pen down again. Just like before, she didn't even bother to check her work. She flipped the paper over and went back to sleep. '...Seriously?' Isabelle thought, unable to believe what she was seeing. 'Idiot.' Isabelle scoffed inwardly. When the final bell rang, Natalie woke up right on time, packed her things, and left. Outside, the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been that morning. Many students had bloodshot eyes, some were even sobbing openly, clinging to their parents. The reporters were busy capturing the tragic scene. When Natalie appeared, her calm demeanor—so out of place among the grief—immediately caught the media's attention again. The video of her morning interview had already gone viral with likes, so the reporters were eager to catch the next wave of traffic. "Hey! It's you again!" The reporter from that morning squeezed through the crowd like he'd found a gold mine. "Excuse me, can we talk to you again? Everyone is saying the Math exam was 'Hell-Mode.' What do you think? How did you do?" Natalie stopped as the microphone blocked her path. She looked at the dejected, sobbing students around her, then at the reporter's expectant face. She tilted her head slightly, appearing to actually consider the question. "It was average." The reporter blinked, "Seriously? Again? Just... average?" Against a backdrop of such widespread despair, her answer was practically scandalous. Natalie nodded. Thinking that was enough of an answer, she bypassed the reporter once more and walked away. The reporter and the surrounding parents stood there in stunned silence. Some thought the girl was incredibly arrogant. A few students who had been in her room thought she was trying too hard to look cool. "Average? If I recall correctly, she slept the whole time!" "Exactly! Isn't she that girl the Grants adopted? She's a notorious delinquent. Ever since she moved to Seaside High, nobody can touch her record for the lowest grades!" "And she's already been kicked out of the Grant house. Apparently, she stole a necklace!" "What?" The reporters caught all of this. Seeing the opportunity, Isabelle purposefully stepped forward. The people gossiping saw her and spoke up again. "Wait, isn't this the biological daughter the Grants just found? She's already been apprenticed to a medical titan. She's a model student, a real genius!" "You're right!" The cameras immediately swiveled toward Isabelle Grant. Isabelle wore a perfect, modest smile. She waved slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Oh, please don't say that. We'll have to wait for the final scores to see how everyone performed." "Besides... Natalie... she might just not be used to the pressure of big exams. Maybe she was just too nervous, and that's why she slept." Her words were diplomatic, but they effectively confirmed all the rumors. Once the crowd dispersed, a glint of triumph flashed across her face. ***** Natalie had just returned to the hotel and lied down when her phone chimed with an alert. She frowned at the screen, her eyes turning cold. Someone was trying to trace her IP. She opened her laptop and saw they were just lingering at the edge of her firewall, not actually attacking, just letting her know they were there. Of course, they couldn't break in. It felt more like a greeting. At least they knew their limits. Natalie's fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of commands and code streaking across the monitor. Before long, she traced the source—the National Cyber Security Agency. She hesitated for a second, then her fingers dropped again. A single, clean line of code was sent back, straight to their core system. [Unknown Visitor]: ? The response was almost instantaneous. [Security Hub]: 73, sorry for the intrusion. This is an emergency. We need your help.
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All I wanted was to rescue my foul-mouthed pet parrot, A.ss, from a biker gang's compound. Instead, I punched a prospect, got chased by a dozen angry men, and ended up tackled by a cowboy in a leather vest. "Calm down, darlin'," he drawled in my ear. Good girl. Those two words from a stranger should not have made my panties disintegrate. But here we are. Then came the Viking with ice-blue eyes and the dark angel covered in tattoos. Three of them. All massive. All staring at me like I was dinner. "You are to remain here until your debt is paid off," their President announced. "For what?" I gasped. "You punched a member and broke onto private property." "I just wanted my bird!" "Motherfuckers. Motherfuckers." A.ss squawked helpfully. "Shut up, A.ss!" That's when I noticed the way Texas, Ice, and Skull looked at me. Like they'd already decided something I hadn't agreed to. "No one here will touch you unless you want them to," Ice told me later. "Though if you ever wanted to..." Texas grinned. I should have run. But between the rival bikers who apparently want to snatch me, the panic attacks from my past, and three dangerous men who keep calling me "baby" and "pixie" and "darlin'"... staying started to feel a lot like falling. And falling for three bikers at once? That's a whole new level of dumb—even for me. __________ Bliss I never claimed to make smart decisions. In fact, most of the time, I would call myself... ditzy. If you asked my dad, he would even claim I was stupid. If you asked my mom, she would tell you I'm just unlucky. God rest her soul. I'm more inclined to agree with my mother. Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually incredibly smart. Top of my class, full ride scholarship, and genius level I.Q S.M.A.R.T. However, it's hard for people to know that since I also happen to view the world very differently. My brain and my actions don't always compute together and translate in a positive way. For example, I once walked into a CVS Pharmacy for a flu shot and didn't realize until I got home it was actually a Walgreens I went to. Or the time I put my thumb on a display car's lighter to see if it was hot after I pressed it (In my defense I was twelve), or the time I accidentally walked outside my house to check the mail completely undressed because I forgot to get dressed after my shower. I'm forgetful and scatterbrained and often get lost in my head before realizing important things. Therefore, most people assume I'm a complete moron. However, out of all the ditzy things I've done in my life, none of them could ever compare to this moment right now, with a bitchy bird on my shoulder and a group of pissed off bikers chasing after me. Let me back up a bit. My name is Bliss Caddel, twenty-five, and I recently moved to the good state of Oregon a week ago from Arizona. I also have a pet rescue parrot that likes to run, er, fly away from home when he gets pissed off at me. Which is exactly why I have a tracker attached to his little ankle. Remember how I told you my mother said I'm just unlucky? Well, this would be one of those times she was correct. You see, I woke up late resulting in being behind schedule in feeding A.ss, that's my pet bird's name, so he threw a tantrum and flew out the front door when I opened it to grab a package off the porch. Of course I just got out of the shower so all I had on was a towel. So after quickly throwing on whatever I could find, I opened the tracking app on my phone and hopped in my car to chase A.ss. I was fortunate enough to find him after thirty minutes, unfortunately he just so happened to fly onto a biker gang's compound. Now, I'm not a violent person, I would even call myself a passive people pleaser most often, a result from my previous hellish life with an abusive father. But when the scrawny kid at the gate told me to get lost before calling me a c.unt... I lost it. I made a vow to myself that I would finally grow a backbone when I left Arizona. So, I remembered to keep my thumb untucked from my fist and punched him right in the face. The hit wasn't very hard, but he did lose his footing causing him to trip and fall, hitting his head on the wall and knocked himself clean out. I took advantage of the opportunity and slipped through the unmanned gate to grab my bird. The jerk of a pet, that I'm seriously considering re-homing at this point, decided it would be an awesome idea to hang out in the garage where a group of very large and very scary leather wearing bikers happened to be. Then the prick apparently thought it would be a great idea to show off his talking talent by screaming out expletives at them. After calling them pussies, motherfuckers, and little bitches, I tiptoed in and snatched him up. Even more unfortunate, every head in the building turned right then and locked eyes on me. Extra unfortunate, the kid from the gate ran in right after with a bloody nose and angry eyes. So, I did the smart thing and ran like he.ll. Which leads me to now. Out of breath with a stitch in my side as I basically play ring around the rosy with a group of very angry bikers on my tail. I would have ran straight for the gate to slip out towards my car, except there's a very mean looking biker standing right in front of it. So the next best bet was to just run around their house until a better opportunity to give them the slip came along. "Bitches. Bitches. Bitches." The chant makes my anxiety grow. "Shut up, A.ss!" I hissed at him. "You're making it worse." Out of nowhere, I feel large arms wrapped around my torso, swinging me off my feet and causing my mismatched shoes to fly off. I'm pulled back against a very hard chest and the scent of leather and musk invades my nostrils. "Calm down, darlin'. " The deep southern drawl rasps in my ear. He's strong, strong enough to squash me like a melon, but he isn't using more force than necessary to restrain me. I take a deep breath to calm myself down and let my body go lax. "Good girl." He whispers in my ear, causing my panties to disintegrate. I may have a slight praise kink, don't judge me. "Mind telling me why you came onto our property and knocked our prospect out before calling us a bunch of names, Darlin'?" I'm about to answer him when the rest of the group comes running over with snarls on their faces and murder in their eyes. Especially the kid with the bloody nose. I cringe into the biker holding me as I see certain death aimed at me in the kid's eyes. "What the he.ll is going on out here?" A deep, growly voice interrupts whatever was about to happen. "This c.unt snuck up on me and hit me in the head with a bat, knocking me clean out, and snuck through the gate, Prez." The skinny kid tells the newcomer. I let out an indigent gasp before narrowing my eyes on him. "You're a lying liar! I did no such thing." I try to get loose from the man holding me but he just wraps his arm tighter around my waist. The one thing I hate more than anything is being accused of lying. "I barely tapped you in the nose. You tripped over your own feet and knocked yourself out when your head hit the wall." I sniff and lift my chin. "I simply walked through the gate while you were taking a nap." The guy behind me snorts. "That true, prospect? You knock yourself out?" The now amused voice asks. "What? Prez, look at her." He motions to my attire. "She's clearly crazy! She's lying, not me." Rude. I look down to see what I'm wearing since I just threw on whatever I could get my hands on the quickest to go after my runaway bird. I'm wearing pink shorts with white polka dots, a blue shirt with yellow stripes, and one house slipper and flip flop combo that's sitting a few feet away. Okay, maybe the kid has a point, but still. "Bring her inside and we'll review the tape to see who's lying." The guy who is called Prez orders. I see the kid stiffen and can't keep the smug smile off my face. The guy holding me puts his hand on my lower back to encourage me forward. Honestly, I'm a little excited to be proved right, so I follow without argument. We walk to the front of their house, compound, building... whatever they call it, and walk through the front door. I look around to take in my surroundings. Straight ahead is a long bar taking up the entire wall with a mirrored background and enough liquor to keep a frat house supplied for eons. There's a freaking stripper pole to the far right with a stereo system next to it and chairs scattered all around the makeshift stage. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happens there. There's a pool table and pinball machine to the far left making the space resemble an arcade. Once everyone is inside, the President, a silver fox of a man if it wasn't for the scowl on his face and the nasty looking scar on the side of his neck, stands in front of me with his arms crossed. I swallow the lump in my throat and feel myself start to shake on instinct. His eyes track the movement and his features gentle out to a degree. The biker who has yet to let me go rubs his hand down my back in a soothing motion. "Shh, Darlin', everything will be okay." He tries to calm me. It seems to work since the shakes disappear, but I still feel freaking terrified. My attention moves to the stairs as a beautiful woman with long dark hair, wearing an adorable white dress with pink flamingos on it, comes down followed by three gorgeous men. She locks eyes with me and tilts her head in curiosity before making her way over. We take each other in and that's when I notice the small baby bump. "Who is this?" She asks, looking at the President. I look at him and notice the affection in his eyes as he looks at her. They have similar features so I'm guessing this must be his daughter. "This is our local trespasser..." He trails off and looks to me for me to fill in the blanks. "Bliss. Bliss Caddel. And I'm not a trespasser, I was just catching A.ss." I answer. The biker behind me makes a choking sound and the girl's eyes widen as she laughs. The President looks at me like I lost my mind and that's when I realize how that sounds. "My pet bird!" I rush out. "His name is A.ss." I correct. "I was catching my runaway bird whose name is A.ss, not trying to get butt." I feel my cheeks heat and look down at my bare feet in embarrassment. "You named your bird A.ss?" The girl asks. "That's awesome." I look at her and give her a slight smile. "Technically, I didn't name him. He's a rescue and already had the name. It's the only one he answers to." I explain so these people don't think I'm some kind of psycho. "Where is this bird?" The president asks while looking around. "He's around here somewhere. He flew off my shoulder when this guy grabbed me." I point my thumb behind me towards the biker at my back. "There was a white bird on her shoulder. She's telling the truth." Biker dude responds when the President looks at him. The President's eyebrows go up when he notices the guy's hand splayed out over my stomach. The hand that is currently making soothing circles on said stomach. He looks back towards the biker guy's face and a silent communication ensues before the President nods with a small smirk. Before I can ask what that was all about, the door swings open and two hulking men walk through it. One guy is so pretty that I can feel my eyes start to water because he's clearly a dark angel. He has black hair that's buzzed on the sides and longer on top with a messy look like he just doesn't care. He has a dangly cross earring in his right ear, and a short close cropped beard that frames his sculpted jawline. He's wearing large rings on every finger and has tattoos for days covering his arms. When I trail my wide eyes back up to his face his deep dark eyes are locked right on me. I quickly look away and take in the other guy. This guy is built. As in B.U.I.L.T. He looks like a freaking giant. He's shirtless except for his leather vest, showing off his very defined eight pack and adonis belt. I can feel my tongue water to trace those lines. He has long blonde hair with shaved sides, reminding me of a viking, and a short beard around plump downturned lips. His ice blue eyes look completely void of life until they lock onto me. Then they're filled with curiosity and something else that causes heat to swirl in my stomach. He turns his attention to the biker that's still holding me and the three of them do that annoying silent communication thing. I finally angle my head around to get a look at the man who's attached me to his side and nearly choke on my tongue. This one has dark brown hair that's short and messy underneath a freaking cowboy hat, with a full and trimmed close cropped beard. He has a gorgeous face that makes him look all boy next door until you notice the arms full of colorful tattoos. "F.cking c.unts. F.cking c.unts. F.cking c.unts." A.ss chants as he flies through the open door and lands on the viking guy's shoulder. "A.ss!" I yell. "Stop that, you crazy bird. You've gotten me into enough trouble as it is." I give him my best evil eye but he completely ignores it, as usual, as he continues to holler out expletives. I feel my cheeks grow increasingly warm as every pair of eyes in the room looks at me. I try to give a small smile but I'm sure it's more of a grimace. I'm definitely rehoming that bird.
All I wanted was to rescue my foul-mouthed pet parrot, A.ss, from a biker gang's compound. Instead, I punched a prospect, got chased by a dozen angry men, and ended up tackled by a cowboy in a leather vest. "Calm down, darlin'," he drawled in my ear. Good girl. Those two words from a stranger should not have made my panties disintegrate. But here we are. Then came the Viking with ice-blue eyes and the dark angel covered in tattoos. Three of them. All massive. All staring at me like I was dinner. "You are to remain here until your debt is paid off," their President announced. "For what?" I gasped. "You punched a member and broke onto private property." "I just wanted my bird!" "Motherfuckers. Motherfuckers." A.ss squawked helpfully. "Shut up, A.ss!" That's when I noticed the way Texas, Ice, and Skull looked at me. Like they'd already decided something I hadn't agreed to. "No one here will touch you unless you want them to," Ice told me later. "Though if you ever wanted to..." Texas grinned. I should have run. But between the rival bikers who apparently want to snatch me, the panic attacks from my past, and three dangerous men who keep calling me "baby" and "pixie" and "darlin'"... staying started to feel a lot like falling. And falling for three bikers at once? That's a whole new level of dumb—even for me. __________ Bliss I never claimed to make smart decisions. In fact, most of the time, I would call myself... ditzy. If you asked my dad, he would even claim I was stupid. If you asked my mom, she would tell you I'm just unlucky. God rest her soul. I'm more inclined to agree with my mother. Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually incredibly smart. Top of my class, full ride scholarship, and genius level I.Q S.M.A.R.T. However, it's hard for people to know that since I also happen to view the world very differently. My brain and my actions don't always compute together and translate in a positive way. For example, I once walked into a CVS Pharmacy for a flu shot and didn't realize until I got home it was actually a Walgreens I went to. Or the time I put my thumb on a display car's lighter to see if it was hot after I pressed it (In my defense I was twelve), or the time I accidentally walked outside my house to check the mail completely undressed because I forgot to get dressed after my shower. I'm forgetful and scatterbrained and often get lost in my head before realizing important things. Therefore, most people assume I'm a complete moron. However, out of all the ditzy things I've done in my life, none of them could ever compare to this moment right now, with a bitchy bird on my shoulder and a group of pissed off bikers chasing after me. Let me back up a bit. My name is Bliss Caddel, twenty-five, and I recently moved to the good state of Oregon a week ago from Arizona. I also have a pet rescue parrot that likes to run, er, fly away from home when he gets pissed off at me. Which is exactly why I have a tracker attached to his little ankle. Remember how I told you my mother said I'm just unlucky? Well, this would be one of those times she was correct. You see, I woke up late resulting in being behind schedule in feeding A.ss, that's my pet bird's name, so he threw a tantrum and flew out the front door when I opened it to grab a package off the porch. Of course I just got out of the shower so all I had on was a towel. So after quickly throwing on whatever I could find, I opened the tracking app on my phone and hopped in my car to chase A.ss. I was fortunate enough to find him after thirty minutes, unfortunately he just so happened to fly onto a biker gang's compound. Now, I'm not a violent person, I would even call myself a passive people pleaser most often, a result from my previous hellish life with an abusive father. But when the scrawny kid at the gate told me to get lost before calling me a c.unt... I lost it. I made a vow to myself that I would finally grow a backbone when I left Arizona. So, I remembered to keep my thumb untucked from my fist and punched him right in the face. The hit wasn't very hard, but he did lose his footing causing him to trip and fall, hitting his head on the wall and knocked himself clean out. I took advantage of the opportunity and slipped through the unmanned gate to grab my bird. The jerk of a pet, that I'm seriously considering re-homing at this point, decided it would be an awesome idea to hang out in the garage where a group of very large and very scary leather wearing bikers happened to be. Then the prick apparently thought it would be a great idea to show off his talking talent by screaming out expletives at them. After calling them pussies, motherfuckers, and little bitches, I tiptoed in and snatched him up. Even more unfortunate, every head in the building turned right then and locked eyes on me. Extra unfortunate, the kid from the gate ran in right after with a bloody nose and angry eyes. So, I did the smart thing and ran like he.ll. Which leads me to now. Out of breath with a stitch in my side as I basically play ring around the rosy with a group of very angry bikers on my tail. I would have ran straight for the gate to slip out towards my car, except there's a very mean looking biker standing right in front of it. So the next best bet was to just run around their house until a better opportunity to give them the slip came along. "Bitches. Bitches. Bitches." The chant makes my anxiety grow. "Shut up, A.ss!" I hissed at him. "You're making it worse." Out of nowhere, I feel large arms wrapped around my torso, swinging me off my feet and causing my mismatched shoes to fly off. I'm pulled back against a very hard chest and the scent of leather and musk invades my nostrils. "Calm down, darlin'. " The deep southern drawl rasps in my ear. He's strong, strong enough to squash me like a melon, but he isn't using more force than necessary to restrain me. I take a deep breath to calm myself down and let my body go lax. "Good girl." He whispers in my ear, causing my panties to disintegrate. I may have a slight praise kink, don't judge me. "Mind telling me why you came onto our property and knocked our prospect out before calling us a bunch of names, Darlin'?" I'm about to answer him when the rest of the group comes running over with snarls on their faces and murder in their eyes. Especially the kid with the bloody nose. I cringe into the biker holding me as I see certain death aimed at me in the kid's eyes. "What the he.ll is going on out here?" A deep, growly voice interrupts whatever was about to happen. "This c.unt snuck up on me and hit me in the head with a bat, knocking me clean out, and snuck through the gate, Prez." The skinny kid tells the newcomer. I let out an indigent gasp before narrowing my eyes on him. "You're a lying liar! I did no such thing." I try to get loose from the man holding me but he just wraps his arm tighter around my waist. The one thing I hate more than anything is being accused of lying. "I barely tapped you in the nose. You tripped over your own feet and knocked yourself out when your head hit the wall." I sniff and lift my chin. "I simply walked through the gate while you were taking a nap." The guy behind me snorts. "That true, prospect? You knock yourself out?" The now amused voice asks. "What? Prez, look at her." He motions to my attire. "She's clearly crazy! She's lying, not me." Rude. I look down to see what I'm wearing since I just threw on whatever I could get my hands on the quickest to go after my runaway bird. I'm wearing pink shorts with white polka dots, a blue shirt with yellow stripes, and one house slipper and flip flop combo that's sitting a few feet away. Okay, maybe the kid has a point, but still. "Bring her inside and we'll review the tape to see who's lying." The guy who is called Prez orders. I see the kid stiffen and can't keep the smug smile off my face. The guy holding me puts his hand on my lower back to encourage me forward. Honestly, I'm a little excited to be proved right, so I follow without argument. We walk to the front of their house, compound, building... whatever they call it, and walk through the front door. I look around to take in my surroundings. Straight ahead is a long bar taking up the entire wall with a mirrored background and enough liquor to keep a frat house supplied for eons. There's a freaking stripper pole to the far right with a stereo system next to it and chairs scattered all around the makeshift stage. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happens there. There's a pool table and pinball machine to the far left making the space resemble an arcade. Once everyone is inside, the President, a silver fox of a man if it wasn't for the scowl on his face and the nasty looking scar on the side of his neck, stands in front of me with his arms crossed. I swallow the lump in my throat and feel myself start to shake on instinct. His eyes track the movement and his features gentle out to a degree. The biker who has yet to let me go rubs his hand down my back in a soothing motion. "Shh, Darlin', everything will be okay." He tries to calm me. It seems to work since the shakes disappear, but I still feel freaking terrified. My attention moves to the stairs as a beautiful woman with long dark hair, wearing an adorable white dress with pink flamingos on it, comes down followed by three gorgeous men. She locks eyes with me and tilts her head in curiosity before making her way over. We take each other in and that's when I notice the small baby bump. "Who is this?" She asks, looking at the President. I look at him and notice the affection in his eyes as he looks at her. They have similar features so I'm guessing this must be his daughter. "This is our local trespasser..." He trails off and looks to me for me to fill in the blanks. "Bliss. Bliss Caddel. And I'm not a trespasser, I was just catching A.ss." I answer. The biker behind me makes a choking sound and the girl's eyes widen as she laughs. The President looks at me like I lost my mind and that's when I realize how that sounds. "My pet bird!" I rush out. "His name is A.ss." I correct. "I was catching my runaway bird whose name is A.ss, not trying to get butt." I feel my cheeks heat and look down at my bare feet in embarrassment. "You named your bird A.ss?" The girl asks. "That's awesome." I look at her and give her a slight smile. "Technically, I didn't name him. He's a rescue and already had the name. It's the only one he answers to." I explain so these people don't think I'm some kind of psycho. "Where is this bird?" The president asks while looking around. "He's around here somewhere. He flew off my shoulder when this guy grabbed me." I point my thumb behind me towards the biker at my back. "There was a white bird on her shoulder. She's telling the truth." Biker dude responds when the President looks at him. The President's eyebrows go up when he notices the guy's hand splayed out over my stomach. The hand that is currently making soothing circles on said stomach. He looks back towards the biker guy's face and a silent communication ensues before the President nods with a small smirk. Before I can ask what that was all about, the door swings open and two hulking men walk through it. One guy is so pretty that I can feel my eyes start to water because he's clearly a dark angel. He has black hair that's buzzed on the sides and longer on top with a messy look like he just doesn't care. He has a dangly cross earring in his right ear, and a short close cropped beard that frames his sculpted jawline. He's wearing large rings on every finger and has tattoos for days covering his arms. When I trail my wide eyes back up to his face his deep dark eyes are locked right on me. I quickly look away and take in the other guy. This guy is built. As in B.U.I.L.T. He looks like a freaking giant. He's shirtless except for his leather vest, showing off his very defined eight pack and adonis belt. I can feel my tongue water to trace those lines. He has long blonde hair with shaved sides, reminding me of a viking, and a short beard around plump downturned lips. His ice blue eyes look completely void of life until they lock onto me. Then they're filled with curiosity and something else that causes heat to swirl in my stomach. He turns his attention to the biker that's still holding me and the three of them do that annoying silent communication thing. I finally angle my head around to get a look at the man who's attached me to his side and nearly choke on my tongue. This one has dark brown hair that's short and messy underneath a freaking cowboy hat, with a full and trimmed close cropped beard. He has a gorgeous face that makes him look all boy next door until you notice the arms full of colorful tattoos. "F.cking c.unts. F.cking c.unts. F.cking c.unts." A.ss chants as he flies through the open door and lands on the viking guy's shoulder. "A.ss!" I yell. "Stop that, you crazy bird. You've gotten me into enough trouble as it is." I give him my best evil eye but he completely ignores it, as usual, as he continues to holler out expletives. I feel my cheeks grow increasingly warm as every pair of eyes in the room looks at me. I try to give a small smile but I'm sure it's more of a grimace. I'm definitely rehoming that bird.
Hermione Garcia is a famous computer genius and the heiress to the Garcia family,the wealthiest family in the South. She falls in love with Chris Evans, the President of LM Corporation, after he saves her at a banquet three years ago. To seek a genuine connection, Hermione conceals her identity and takes on the role of Chris's chief secretary, secretly dating him for three years.
On Christmas, Tessa Preston gets an unexpected call from her estranged father inviting her home for dinner. She arrives alone with gifts, while her three powerful sons plan to join later. The moment she steps inside, her stepmother and step-siblings mock her "poverty" and try to humiliate her—unaware of the strength and influence her sons truly hold.
After being cast aside by the man she helped rise to power, Eleanor—secret CEO of the powerful Thunder Circle—is thrust back into the spotlight when a mysterious billionaire proposes marriage, shaking high society to its core.
On Christmas, Tessa Preston gets an unexpected call from her estranged father inviting her home for dinner. She arrives alone with gifts, while her three powerful sons plan to join later. The moment she steps inside, her stepmother and step-siblings mock her "poverty" and try to humiliate her—unaware of the strength and influence her sons truly hold.