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Chapter 728
Chapter 728:
It was the foundational architecture she had built three years ago inside a classified DARPA lab — the core of Project Valkyrie. The theory was so elegant and structurally robust that DARPA had recently declassified the base architecture for academic publication. It was the exact code she was preparing to present as the cover article in Nature the following month.
Her mind raced, connecting the brutal dots. Grayson. The memory struck her like a physical blow, sharp and complete. A year ago, in their New York study. She had just finished a seventy-two-hour coding marathon, finalizing the core architecture for her Nature submission. Exhausted beyond reason, she had asked Grayson to run a simple backup of her research drive while she slept. That was the moment. He had exploited her complete physical and mental collapse — her absolute trust in him — to commit the ultimate betrayal. He had taken her life’s work and handed it directly to his mistress.
On stage, Belle pointed confidently at the stolen code. “This proprietary algorithm,” she said, not blinking once, “will increase the thermal efficiency of current military engines by a staggering fourteen percent p>
The room erupted. The venture capitalists began whispering frantically to one another. They were looking at a license to print money.
Harper caught the terrifying, vacant look in Isolde’s eyes. She glanced at the screen, and the realization hit her.
“She stole your core project?” Harper hissed, her muscles tensing as she prepared to stand.
Isolde’s hand shot out and seized Harper’s wrist in a grip like a hydraulic press. “Do not move,” she ordered, her voice a microscopic, freezing whisper.
She reached into her suit pocket and produced a heavy, expensive-looking fountain pen. She twisted the cap slightly, activating the high-definition micro-camera concealed in the nib, and set it carefully on the table with the lens aimed directly at Belle and the screen.
Then Isolde forced her heart rate to slow.
She was no longer a victim of theft. She was an executioner, gathering the final evidence for the gallows.
𝘑𝗈і𝗻 𝘰𝗎𝗿 𝘤𝘰𝘮m𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗍𝘆 on.с𝘰m
Belle’s forty-minute presentation concluded. The overhead lights in the conference room snapped back on.
The applause from the venture capitalists was loud and hungry. They were looking at Belle like she was the next tech messiah. The Q&A session began immediately.
A senior partner from Sequoia Capital leaned forward and adjusted his microphone. “Ms. Escobar, the architecture is brilliant,” he said, his tone respectful. “However, our rapid simulation models indicate that under extreme thermal load, there appears to be a microscopic logic singularity in the feedback loop. How does your team address this p>
In the back row, Isolde’s lips curved into a razor-thin smile.
That singularity was not a mistake. It was a deliberate, complex pseudo-code trap she had written into her early drafts to test the stress limits of the system.
On stage, Belle’s confident smile froze for a fraction of a second. A bead of sweat formed at her hairline. She had no idea what a logic singularity was. She had memorized only the script Grayson’s engineers had written for her.
But Belle’s greed overrode her panic. She gripped the podium and projected absolute confidence.