"You want to know how far I'm involved?" Elena's voice rang out with a cold edge on the other end of the line, cutting through Raka's still-labored breathing. The night at the gala felt like a distant memory, even though it had only been a few hours. Nausea and anger still churned in his chest, mixing the scent of champagne with despair.Raka gripped his phone, his knuckles turning white. "No, I want to know why you lied to me. Why you let Bianca become a victim, claiming it was a 'business case' when it was all a filthy lie!" His voice trembled more than he wanted it to. He hated how Elena always managed to make him lose control."Listen, Raka," Elena answered, her voice remaining calm, like a frozen lake, "you heard what Bianca said. That was just the tip of the iceberg. You saw the horror with your own eyes, didn't you? You felt her helplessness."Helplessness. That word stabbed Raka. Bianca, that poor woman, his client, forced into marriage and then abandoned, all for assets and i

"You were never really okay, were you?" Raka's voice slid out like a cold accusation, piercing Mrs. Anya's heart through the tense phone line. He heard a held breath on the other end, a silence heavier than anything that could be said. Days had passed since Darma's gaze had lingered on his back at the gallery, leaving Raka with a constant residue of panic, but the gnawing guilt over Anya was far more painful. He remembered Bianca's pale face, the bitter words that poisoned the gala, and how it all started with Anya's case."Raka?" Mrs. Anya's voice sounded hoarse, surprised. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" The genuine concern in her tone made Raka's stomach clench. How could I deceive her again?"No, I'm not alright," Raka answered honestly, though he knew it wasn't what he should be saying. "And I know you aren't either. I want to see you. I have to." This wasn't just about Elena and the Architects. This was about atoning for his own mistakes, even if it meant dragging Anya deeper i

"You’re out of your mind, Elena! This isn't just some dirty corporate network; it’s an octopus with its tentacles around everything!" Raka slammed the Cerberus Initiative file onto the table, the sheets of paper fluttering like snow in the safe room Elena had provided. His heart hammered, holding back a mixture of rage and fear. He stared at Elena, desperate to pierce her calm gaze, searching for a crack, a hint of doubt. But there was nothing. Only that cold composure that always made him sick.Elena simply looked at him, her dark eyes barely blinking. "Did you only just realize that, Raka? I’ve been living inside it for years." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a sharp contrast to the turmoil in Raka’s chest. "Do you think I asked you to do this without knowing exactly what we were up against?""I can't trust you anymore, Elena," Raka exhaled, the words just slipping out. "You sent me to Mrs. Anya, she gave me this, you involved Leo, and all of it was just to confirm what you a

"This doesn't make sense!" Raka snorted, his eyes sweeping across the endless rows of numbers on the laptop screen. His hands trembled as he poured coffee into a cup, even though it was nearly midnight. The data he had copied from the data tap flooded the screen—thousands of lines of seemingly ordinary financial transactions, stock reports, investment portfolios—it all felt like a pile of meaningless garbage. Ms. Thorne had given him a cold smile earlier, a piercing smile, and a bad premonition kept gnawing at him. Sensitive reports. What did that woman want? His head throbbed. He had tried to analyze it, looking for patterns, but all of this was just like an ocean of numbers drowning him. Where is the key, Elena? Where is the common thread? Frustration choked him. He wasn't a hacker; he was just an ordinary financial analyst now caught in a war he didn't understand. Every wasted second felt like Darma was one step closer. Raka remembered Ms. Thorne's threatening gaze, the bad premon

"This is crazy, Elena! How am I supposed to get close to someone guarded as tightly as a medieval fortress?" Raka was frustrated, his voice barely a whisper, but his anger was real.His burner phone felt hot in his hand. He had spent the last few days researching Julianna Vance, and the results only made his stomach churn further. The CEO of VanceTech, for all her brilliance, was a ghost in the real world."That’s why you’re the one doing it, Raka. Her guards won’t recognize a financial analyst like you as a threat," Elena replied, her voice as usual, cold and measured. "She isn't crazy, Raka. She’s just cautious. The Architects have made her paranoid; she just doesn't realize it yet."Raka snorted. "Paranoid or not, she almost never appears in public! And when she does, she’s surrounded by a security detail thicker than an annual financial report." He swiped across his tablet screen, displaying images of Julianna Vance under heavy escort, her beautiful but cold face surrounded by sil