The echoes of the Charity Art Gala lingered in the silent halls of the Thorne Estate—the scent of orchids, the hum of the deactivated security systems, and the suffocating tension between the newlywed CEO and his reborn wife.
Anya followed Kaius back to his private study. He hadn't spoken since leaving the ballroom, his jaw clenched, his hand still tingling where it had possessively rested on the small of her back. Commander Stone was already there, meticulously dismantling the surveillance equipment.
"The recording is clean, Mr. Thorne," Stone reported, his eyes briefly meeting Anya's with a renewed, complex intensity. "The targets, Kent and Hughes, discussed a 'Protocol Gamma' asset transfer to 'Goliath Financial' tomorrow at 0900 hours, coordinated through a shell company in the Cayman Islands."
Kaius ignored the security report for a moment, his focus solely on Anya. He waited until Stone had left the room and the reinforced door clicked shut.
"You risked the entire operation, Anya," Kaius stated, his voice a low, furious rumble. "Marcus Vayne is not a toy. He is a predator. His interest in you jeopardizes our security and the contract."
Anya met his gaze, no longer hiding her sharp intellect behind the glasses. She placed the lenses on the desk, allowing her true, analytical expression to show.
"I did not risk the operation; I accelerated it," Anya countered, her voice calm. "Vayne is the only man in this city who can consistently penetrate your corporate circle. He saw the genuine, high-value asset in the room—which is me—and his interest served two purposes: one, it publicly confirmed our 'loving' facade when you intervened, and two, he is a known contact of the very parties Goliath Financial uses for illicit transfers."
She walked to the console, tapping the printout of the surveillance transcript. "The information we have—Protocol Gamma—is too vague. Vayne is a key to understanding their method."
Kaius stared at her, caught between professional admiration for her ruthlessness and simmering fury over Vayne's easy charm. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, conceding the strategic point.
"Fine. We have less than nine hours until 0900. 'Protocol Gamma' is a signature defense system used by two of our biggest rivals, Onyx Tech and Phoenix Systems."
Anya felt a chill at the name Phoenix Systems. It was a massive, multinational tech firm, and the name echoed her own hidden alias. A dangerous coincidence.
"I need the complete financial architecture of Onyx Tech and Phoenix Systems," Anya demanded. "Their balance sheets, their recent market activities, and their digital ledger systems. All of it."
Kaius hesitated. "That is corporate espionage, even for us. It could expose us legally."
"It's pre-emptive defense," Anya corrected. "Goliath isn't just buying shares; they are executing a surgical market strike that will destabilize the entire sector, not just the Thorne Group. If we know what assets they are targeting, we can buy them first. I can reverse-engineer their strike vector."
Kaius leaned over the desk, his face inches from hers. The tension between their strategic minds and their raw physical presence was electric. "I will give you three hours. You will run the analysis using my terminal, and I will stay here and watch you. No anonymity, Phoenix. I need to know exactly what you do to my network."
Anya nodded, accepting the extreme risk and the implicit, possessive trust. "Agreed, Mr. Thorne."
For the next three hours, the CEO of Thorne Group watched as his timid bride, transformed into the Silent Oracle, worked digital magic. Anya's fingers flew across the keyboard, executing complex queries and predictive market algorithms that would baffle his best analysts. She found the signature: the strike was targeting Onyx Tech's massive liquid assets to purchase controlling shares in Phoenix Systems just before a major government contract announcement.
"They aren't destroying Phoenix," Anya stated, her eyes still glued to the screen. "They are weaponizing its government contract. They will use it to gain control of Onyx's cash, then use Onyx's cash to corner the market on raw materials your company needs."
The analysis was complete, the counter-strategy was formulated, and the tension had reached a breaking point. Kaius reached out, not to touch the keyboard, but to gently take the glasses from her hand.
"Anya," he said, his voice husky, using her real name without the title for the first time. "Who are you?"
She knew the time for the full truth wasn't right, but she had to give him something to hold onto—something to replace the coldness of their contract.
"I am the woman who saved your company twice this week, Kaius," she replied, her voice firm. "And I am the woman who will protect your company from the true danger. But I am not the woman you married. And I am certainly not the woman Marcus Vayne thinks I am."
Kaius moved, bridging the final distance between them. He didn't ask her about the past; he reacted to the intense, strategic, and beautiful woman standing before him. He pulled her against the desk, trapping her, and lowered his head.
"You're right," he murmured against her lips. "I don't know who I married."
The kiss was sharp, possessive, and fueled by a week of hostility, suspicion, and undeniable intellectual attraction. It wasn't tender; it was a furious confirmation of their unwanted, high-stakes bond—the perfect distillation of their love-to-hate dynamic.
When he finally pulled back, Kaius was breathing hard, his eyes dark with a newfound, terrifying commitment. "You belong here, Anya. You belong with me. Don't ever let Vayne—or anyone—make you forget that."
Anya's victory was immediately challenged. As Kaius left the room to execute the counter-trade based on her analysis, Lydia Thorne, furious over being assigned menial gala cleanup, burst into Anya's private room.
"You think you've won, you peasant fraud?" Lydia spat, holding up the calligraphy portfolio that Anya had used to fool Julian. "I spoke to a real art curator today. That Xiao piece? It's a genuine master's study, not a finished work. It's worth a fraction of what Dubois claimed! You're a fake!"
Lydia was wrong—even a Xiao study was immensely valuable—but her rage blinded her to the truth. She marched to Anya's luggage, pulling out the small, empty wooden box Anya used to conceal her medical tools.
"And what is this? Your box of 'old remedies'?" Lydia tossed the box onto the floor and slammed a paper onto Anya's dresser. "I had a team go to the Matriarch's room. Your 'cure' is being analyzed. If you poisoned her, Anya, Kaius won't save you. And I'll be the one to expose you."
Anya looked calmly at the paper. It was a court order for the Matriarch's medical records—Lydia's desperate, last-ditch attempt to sabotage the new, powerful wife.
"Lydia," Anya said, her voice dropping to the cool, menacing tone of the Oracle. "You are not only a fool; you are a criminal. You have been harassing me for a week. Now, you have invaded my privacy and are trying to interfere with my legal medical consultations with the Matriarch."
Anya picked up the wooden box and looked directly at Lydia. "You will not expose me. I will expose you. If you ever enter my room again, I will inform the Matriarch that your reckless actions were a direct attempt to seize her voting bloc. You will lose everything. Now, get out."
Lydia, momentarily stunned by the raw, unfakeable power in Anya's eyes, stumbled back. The threat wasn't about the box; it was about the political annihilation Anya promised. She fled the room, defeated and utterly terrified.
Anya walked to her terminal. The Syndicate was moving in nine hours. She had an alliance, a target, and a kiss that had redefined her marriage. But she also had a crazy sister-in-law threatening her medical cover. The stakes had never been higher.