Chapter 483

Chapter 483:

A few rows away, Grayson’s eyes remained fixed on Isolde.

DARPA. Five years ago. The impossible coding speed.

The puzzle pieces were slamming together with violent, merciless clarity.

He pulled his phone from his pocket with his left hand, opened a secure messaging app, and began to type.

I don’t care that you’ve been hitting DOD firewalls for the past month. I don’t care what it costs or who you have to bribe. Break through the encryption. Re-verify the background check on Isolde Carson. Dig into her two-year employment gap before our marriage. Find out exactly where she was. Bring me the results today.

He hit send.

His chest felt like it was caving in. He was terrified of what the answer would be.

𝗨р𝗱𝖺tе𝗌 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳y 𝗐е𝖾𝗄 𝗈n.с𝗈𝗺

The harsh lights of the conference hall dimmed as the competition entered its scheduled intermission. The organizers had arranged a lavish cocktail hour in the VIP lounge adjacent to the main floor.

Isolde stood in a quiet corner of the lounge, leaning slightly against a marble pillar. The intense mental output of the live coding session had drained her completely. Her shoulders ached, and the chill of the air conditioning was seeping through her thin silk blouse.

Cyrus Sterling detached himself from a cluster of sycophantic investors and walked toward her, carrying a folded cashmere shawl — brand new, the tags still attached.

Without asking permission, he stepped behind Isolde and gently draped the heavy cashmere over her shoulders.

“The AC in here is set for penguins,” Cyrus said, his tone casual but protective. “You are the brain we are trying to protect. Keep warm p>

Isolde pulled the edges of the shawl together. The warmth was immediate and comforting.

“Thank you, Cyrus,” she said softly.

Across the room, Nancy, the gossip blogger, raised her phone. From her angle, Cyrus leaning over Isolde to settle the shawl looked like an intimate embrace. She snapped three rapid photos, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.

Cyrus signaled a passing waiter and handed Isolde a flute of sparkling water.

“That pointer overflow defense you coded at the end,” Cyrus murmured, leaning in so his voice wouldn’t carry, “was beautiful. A direct variant of the architecture you used in the Blackbird project five years ago, wasn’t it p>

Isolde accepted the glass, her eyes moving quickly around the room.

“Keep your voice down,” she warned. “There are too many ears here p>

Cyrus chuckled and took a sip of his bourbon. “Let them guess. In this industry, mystery drives up your valuation p>

Not far away, Chase and Nancy were huddled by the bar, watching.

“Look at that,” Nancy whispered, tilting her phone to show Chase the photo. “Definitely a sugar daddy. A man of Cyrus’s status does not act like a coat-check boy for a mere employee p>

Chase nodded vigorously. “Exactly. That whole DARPA story was a PR stunt to legitimize her. She is just a high-class escort playing with a keyboard p>

On the opposite side of the room, Grayson stood completely still.