THE TRASH SON-IN-LAW'S ULTIMATE SYSTEM

THE SYSTEM'S SHADOW

CHAPTER 5 — THE SYSTEM’S SHADOW

The city was louder today.

Engines hummed in the distance, horns bled through the traffic, and the streets shimmered under the afternoon sun. It was the kind of day that felt ordinary — but for Liam Hunt, every sound carried calculation. Every shadow had weight.

He sat in his office on the twelfth floor of Hunt Innovations, staring at the data feed streaming across his monitor. The numbers weren’t random anymore. He could feel it — the pattern behind them.

Ever since opening his father’s archive, the System’s presence had deepened. It no longer waited to be summoned; it moved with him, quiet and invisible.

> [Equation Active: Probability streams engaged. Current stability — 96%.]

He glanced at the reflection on his monitor — his own eyes calm, expression unreadable. “Let’s see what happens when we push the equation.”

He stood and walked to the elevator. Employees moved aside as he passed, polite and cautious, as though his presence pulled at gravity itself. None of them knew he no longer held an official position. They only reacted to the aura that the System quietly magnified.

On the 30th floor, the executive division buzzed with the rhythm of privilege — sharp suits, expensive perfume, and hidden motives. Liam stepped out and immediately drew whispers.

“Isn’t that Liam Hunt?” someone murmured.

“I thought he was out—”

“Maybe the family reinstated him?”

He ignored them, heading straight for the glass corridor that overlooked the skyline. It was the same view his father had loved — a perfect balance between distance and dominance.

That’s when his phone buzzed again. No number. Just one message:

Unknown: You’re being watched.

Before he could respond, the System chimed sharply in his mind:

> [Equation Alert: External surveillance node detected — 5.2 meters. Source: Optical lens interference.]

He turned slightly. A small camera near the ceiling — nothing unusual, except the faint flicker at its base. Modified hardware.

> [Recommend immediate redirection sequence.]

“Do it,” he said under his breath.

The lights dimmed momentarily. The air-conditioning vents exhaled sharply — and in the corner of his vision, the camera’s lens shifted. Its angle twisted, then powered down.

For a heartbeat, silence ruled.

> [Equation Adjustment successful. Surveillance disrupted. Energy cost: -2.1%.]

Liam exhaled, steady but colder. “They’re getting closer.”

He left the corridor and entered the board meeting room — empty except for faint sunlight and a polished table. His gaze swept the walls, and then the System pulsed again.

> [Warning: Probability spike — 72% chance of secondary interference within five minutes.]

So it wasn’t over.

He sat, perfectly still. Sometimes the best way to expose a hunter was to pretend you didn’t see the trap.

Minutes passed. Then, faintly, the elevator doors opened again. A man in a dark suit stepped out — older, with a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Mr. Hunt,” he greeted, voice smooth. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m Marcus Vail, internal audit.”

Liam nodded once. “Auditing what?”

“Just protocol,” Marcus replied. His tone was casual, but his posture wasn’t. The man’s left hand stayed too close to his pocket — too careful.

The System’s voice whispered:

> [Threat probability — 48% and rising.]

Liam leaned back slightly, voice calm. “Protocol, you say. Let me guess — you’re here to ‘review’ my father’s projects?”

Marcus blinked. “How did you—”

The lights flickered again. For a fraction of a second, the System’s interface glitched — fragments of code bleeding into his vision.

> [Warning: Energy instability — 78%. Emotional fluctuation detected.]

Then, it stabilized.

Liam rose slowly, closing the distance between them. “You’re not internal audit. You’re one of theirs.”

Marcus froze. “You don’t know what you’re involved in, Mr. Hunt.”

“Don’t I?”

Liam’s voice stayed quiet — but the atmosphere shifted. The air felt heavier, the silence sharper. Marcus took a half-step back, his breath catching.

> [Equation Pressure Field expanding — 1.2%.]

The man’s composure cracked. “They said you couldn’t access it! They said you were cut off—”

“They underestimated me,” Liam replied simply.

Marcus’s hand twitched toward his pocket. The System pulsed again.

> [Reaction predicted.]

A faint electric current rippled through the room — subtle but precise. Marcus gasped, his earpiece sparking briefly before he dropped it.

He stumbled back, shaken but unharmed. “You don’t understand what that thing is!”

Liam tilted his head. “No. But I will.”

> [Equation Energy — 62%. System strain detected.]

The glitch came again — stronger this time. The edges of his vision blurred; the room tilted for less than a second before snapping back.

Marcus noticed. “You’re overusing it, aren’t you? That’s how it begins.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “How what begins?”

The man hesitated — and that was enough. The System registered the silence as data.

> [Information void detected. Calculating missing variables.]

“Project Equation,” Marcus finally said. “It wasn’t meant for a single host. It was designed to connect.”

Liam’s heartbeat steadied, even as his mind raced. “Connect?”

Marcus nodded shakily. “Two systems, synchronized through emotion. Your father didn’t finish the link—”

He stopped himself, eyes widening as if realizing he’d said too much. “I shouldn’t—”

But it was already too late. Liam’s mind had filled in the gap.

Two systems.

Synchronized through emotion.

His father’s notes. Emma’s name. She knows this — and she is the final variable.

The System’s tone broke through sharply:

> [Warning: Emotional spike detected. Equation stability — 41%.]

His pulse slowed deliberately. “So that’s why she left,” he murmured.

“What?” Marcus asked.

“She wasn’t escaping me,” Liam said softly. “She was protecting the equation.”

Or controlling it.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

The System’s hum returned, calmer now:

> [Balance restored. Energy level — 54%.]

When he looked up again, Marcus was gone — slipped out quietly during the moment of static. The door clicked shut.

Liam didn’t chase him. He simply turned toward the window again, watching the city burn gold under the lowering sun.

> [New Data Path Detected: Emotional Link signature located — Target: Emma Hunt.]

[Trace signal?]

His fingers hovered in the air. For a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then, quietly—

“Trace.”

A soft pulse of light spread across his vision, stretching over the digital skyline. The System followed invisible data streams, mapping signal paths that spiraled through networks, satellites, private servers—until one name appeared.

Location Match: Hunt Global Research Facility — East Sector.

Emma’s signature.

> [Equation Note: Target connection stable. Emotional synchronization — latent.]

He closed his eyes briefly, voice quiet but sharp as glass. “So you’re still part of it.”

The System hesitated again.

> [Caution: Dual-System resonance may result in collapse.]

“Then we’ll find out,” he said simply.

---

Hours later, in the dim light of his apartment, Liam sat surrounded by silence. The System’s faint glow illuminated his desk — and for the first time, he noticed a faint reflection not his own.

A shadow. A figure standing just behind him in the glass — blurred but human.

He turned instantly. Nothing. The room was empty.

The reflection, however, lingered for half a heartbeat longer before fading.

> [Equation Distortion detected. External signature matching… 89%.]

Liam’s jaw tightened. “Emma.”

The word was almost a whisper — not anger, not longing, just calculation.

The System flickered again, and for a brief, impossible moment, a line of text appeared across his screen that he hadn’t commanded.

> [Hello, Liam.]

Then it vanished.