Chapter 8

A week later, Jazmin stood beside Iain at the launch event for Mendez Technologies' new quantum processor. She wore a sleek, silver gown that made her look like a weapon, her hand resting lightly on the back of his wheelchair. They were the ultimate power couple: beautiful, dangerous, and utterly unreadable.

Adrian was there, representing Garrett Industries. He watched them from across the room, his eyes burning with a toxic mixture of hatred and jealousy.

After the presentation, Jazmin accompanied Iain to his private lounge to rest. While he was occupied with a call, she excused herself.

"I'm just going to the powder room," she said sweetly.

But she didn't go to the restroom. She slipped down a service corridor, her key card-a gift from Alex-granting her access to the building's high-security levels. Her destination: the server farm.

She found it, a vast, cold room filled with humming black monoliths. This was the heart of Iain's empire. She found a terminal and began typing, trying to find a backdoor, a crack in the firewall that would let her access the game's core programming.

She was met with a wall of black ice encryption so complex it was almost a living thing.

"Looking for something?"

The voice came from directly behind her. It was soft, but it cut through the hum of the servers like a razor.

Jazmin turned. Iain was there, his wheelchair silent on the polished floor, his eyes sharp enough to strip flesh from bone.

"Just curious," she lied smoothly. "You have impressive hardware."

He didn't believe her. He began to wheel himself closer, the tension in the room tightening with every silent rotation of his wheels.

The moment was shattered by the lounge door being thrown open. Adrian burst in, flanked by his lawyer and two burly security guards.

"There she is!" Adrian shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Jazmin. He was holding a set of glossy photos-paparazzi shots of her and Iain's team at City Hall.

"Corporate espionage! She was feeding you information while we were still married!" he accused, his voice shrill. He lunged for her.

Finn materialized in front of him, blocking his path with a solid wall of muscle.

Iain watched the pathetic display with an air of profound boredom. "Adrian," he said calmly, "those photos were taken days after your divorce was finalized. And as of that moment, Jazmin's loyalties became mine. She is my fiancée. She is my property."

The word "property" hung in the air.

Enraged, Adrian dodged around Finn and threw a wild punch at Jazmin.

This time, she didn't bother with a leg sweep. She simply sidestepped the punch, grabbed him by his silk tie, and lifted him clean off the floor.

Adrian choked, his feet kicking uselessly in the air, his face turning a deep shade of plum.

Jazmin held him there for a second, then tossed him away. He crashed into the glass coffee table, shattering it into a hundred pieces.

Adrian's lawyer stammered, trying to form a threat, but Iain started to applaud. A slow, deliberate clap.

"Alex, please show our guests out," Iain said. "And Adrian, if you ever set foot in my building again, I will personally instruct Finn to break both of your legs. It's only fair."

As Adrian was dragged away, he shot one last, venomous glare at Jazmin. "You'll regret this!"

The lounge was silent again, save for Adrian's fading shouts.

"Now," Iain said, turning his attention back to Jazmin. "What were you really doing in my server room?"

Jazmin walked over to him. She knelt down, bringing her face level with his.

"I was looking for something to fix you," she said, her voice a low, intimate murmur.

Iain stared into her eyes, so close he could see the tiny flecks of gold in her irises. He felt the familiar wall in her mind, but this time, he also felt something else. A strange, unfamiliar thumping in his own chest.

He reached up and cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her lower lip. The air was electric, charged with suspicion and a raw, undeniable desire.

"Don't play games with me, Jazmin," he warned, his voice husky. "You won't like the consequences."

She gently pushed his hand away and stood up. "I don't play games," she said, looking down at him. "I play for keeps."

A red alert flashed in her mind.

`[CORE ANTAGONIST 'POSSESSION' METER: 75%. SERVER LOGIC LAYER DETECTING MINOR FISSURES.]`