Sluice. App Store research for builders.

Oasis-d6

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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.

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