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Chapter 793
Chapter 793:
The assistant moved with rapid precision. He pulled a heavy, encrypted titanium USB drive from his jacket and jammed it into the laptop connected to the ballroom’s massive presentation screen.
The screen flickered violently.
A complex user interface exploded into view—a dark blue background filled with dense strings of code, military seals, and fluid dynamic equations. It was the live internal project database of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.
Most of the socialites gasped in confusion. But the Wall Street tech investors and aerospace executives recognized the classified interface immediately. Their eyes went wide with shock. Belle Escobar did not gasp. A tremor of pure terror ran through her instead. She knew exactly what that interface meant. Her last shred of hope began to fray.
𝖬or𝖾 𝗇𝘰𝗏e𝘭𝗌 oո
The assistant’s fingers flew across the keyboard, entering a long alphanumeric authorization code.
A file appeared on the massive screen, stamped in bold red digital ink: VALKYRIE — CLASSIFIED.
The screen transitioned to the cover page. It was the personnel profile of the project’s Chief Architect.
On the left side of the screen was a high-resolution ID photograph.
Isolde Carson. Taken five years earlier, inside The Institute. She looked younger, her hair pulled back tightly, her eyes burning with fierce, undeniable genius.
On the right side, the text was massive and impossible to ignore.
Legal Name: Isolde Carson. Clearance Level: Level 6 — Top Secret.
And directly below it, the final, fatal line:
External Publication Pseudonym: Sophia.
The words burned into the retinas of every person in the room.
It was an official, unforgeable, Pentagon-backed document. Absolute, undeniable proof.
Belle stared at the screen.
Her eyes locked onto the word Sophia.
For three full seconds, she didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.
Then the public confirmation of the truth she had already known shattered her completely. This wasn’t a revelation—it was a public execution. The secret she had desperately prayed Isolde could never prove was now a monument to her own fraud, displayed for the entire world to see. The god she had just used as her final desperate shield against Isolde.
It was Isolde.
The woman she had mocked as a useless housewife was the god she had prayed to.
A horrifying, guttural sound ripped from Belle’s throat. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like an animal hearing the cage door lock behind it forever.
Her knees gave out entirely.
She collapsed onto the hard marble floor with a heavy, sickening thud. Her hands clawed at her own hair, her eyes rolling back as her mind broke completely under the weight of absolute, public ruin.
Camera flashes from the financial reporters erupted in a blinding frenzy. Long lenses zoomed in, capturing with perfect precision the exact moment the celebrated Silicon Valley genius suffered a total breakdown on the floor.
A wave of nausea swept through the crowd. They were no longer watching a business dispute. They were watching a deity crush a mortal.
Grayson staggered backward until his shoulder struck a heavy pillar.
His mind flashed to the countless nights he had passed Isolde’s study, sneering at the complex equations she was drawing on her whiteboard, dismissing them as useless doodles.
