Chapter 3: The Predator's Banquet
The dining hall of the Thorne Estate was a cavern of cold marble and oppressive silence, broken only by the rhythmic clinking of silver against fine bone china. High above, a crystal chandelier cast sharp, jagged shadows across the faces of the people gathered around the long mahogany table. This wasn't a meal; it was a trial.
Evelyn sat to Killian's right, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. She wore a simple, high-collared dress that was intentionally a shade too dull, and her thick, plastic-rimmed glasses remained firmly perched on her nose. She kept her gaze fixed on her plate, her posture slumped to mimic a girl who was terrified of the opulence surrounding her.
At the head of the table sat Marcus Thorne, Killian's uncle. He was a man who moved with the grace of a panther and the eyes of a debt collector. To Killian's left was Beatrice, his mother, who looked at Evelyn as if she were a smudge on the tablecloth that the servants had forgotten to bleach.
"So, Killian," Marcus started, his voice smooth and oily as he sliced into a piece of rare steak. "You've made your move. A marriage to a... commoner. I suppose it fulfills the letter of the will, if not the spirit. But tell me, Evelyn since that is your name, isn't it? what does a girl like you talk about with a man who owns half the city's skyline?"
Evelyn felt Killian's body stiffen beside her. Under the table, his hand reached out and gripped her knee. It wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a warning. Stay quiet. Don't embarrass me.
Evelyn let her fork tremble slightly. "I... I mostly listen, Mr. Thorne," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Mr. Killian is very busy. I just try to make sure his coffee is hot and his home is quiet."
Beatrice let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "How charmingly domestic. She's like a pet, Killian. Though I usually prefer my pets to have a better pedigree."
Killian's grip on Evelyn's knee tightened until it was almost painful. "She is exactly what I need right now, Mother. A distraction from the noise."
"Speaking of noise," Marcus interrupted, leaning forward, his eyes glinting with malice. "There is a rumor that Thorne Industries suffered a massive internal breach last night. A 'ghost' in the system. They're calling the hacker 'Oracle.' The board is worried, Killian. If you can't protect our data, how can you protect our legacy?"
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat, but her face remained a mask of dull confusion. She reached for her wine glass, her hand shaking just enough that a few drops spilled onto the white cloth.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, reaching into her small evening bag for a tissue.
As she pulled out the tissue, she covertly pressed a button on a small, rectangular device hidden in the lining of her bag. It was a pocket-sized signal interceptor she had built from salvaged parts.
Targeting Marcus's phone, she thought, her mind suddenly sharp and cold behind her "frightened" eyes.
"Clumsy girl," Beatrice hissed. "Mrs. Miller! Clean this up!"
While the housekeeper hurried over, Evelyn leaned back, her eyes downcast. In her mind, she was already calculating the data stream. She had noticed Marcus checking his phone every thirty seconds under the table. He was waiting for something. A confirmation.
There it is, she realized. A burst of encrypted data was hitting Marcus's device. He was coordinating a second-wave attack on the Thorne servers right now, using the dinner as a distraction.
Evelyn knew she had to act. If Killian lost the servers tonight, his chairmanship would be vulnerable, and her contract her only hope for her sister's surgery would be worthless.
"I... I feel a bit lightheaded," Evelyn murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead. "The wine... I'm not used to it. May I be excused for a moment to get some air?"
Killian looked at her, his eyes dark with irritation. He wanted her there as a shield against his mother's barbs, but he also didn't want her fainting into the lobster bisque.
"Five minutes," Killian snapped. "Don't get lost."
The Shadow in the Library
Evelyn stumbled out of the dining hall, the "clumsy" gait vanishing the moment she turned the corner into the darkened hallway. She didn't head for the gardens. Instead, she slipped into the library a room filled with ancient books and, more importantly, a high-speed hardline connection to the mansion's main hub.
She pulled a miniature folding keyboard from her garter belt and plugged it into the back of a hidden terminal behind a row of encyclopedias.
Command Prompt: Overwrite.
Her fingers were a blur of precision. She wasn't just defending; she was counter-hacking. She traced the signal from Marcus's phone back to a remote server.
"You're sloppy, Uncle Marcus," she whispered to the empty room.
She didn't stop the attack. Instead, she redirected the "virus" Marcus had sent. She funneled it back into Marcus's own private cloud storage. By the time she was done, Marcus's personal files the ones containing the proof of his embezzlement would be decrypted and sent to an anonymous tip line.
Suddenly, the door to the library creaked.
Evelyn slammed the terminal shut and shoved her keyboard into the folds of her dress. She turned around just as Killian stepped into the room.
He stood in the doorway, the light from the hall casting his long shadow across the floor. He looked at her, his eyes narrowed in intense suspicion.
"The powder room is the other way, Evelyn," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low pitch.
"I... I got turned around," she stammered, the "mouse" returning instantly. She clutched her stomach. "It's so big in here. I just wanted to sit down for a second."
Killian walked toward her, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. He didn't stop until he was inches away, forcing her to back up against the mahogany bookshelf. He placed his hands on the shelves on either side of her head, boxing her in.
"You're a strange girl," he whispered, his gaze scanning her face, searching for a crack in the mask. "You smell like lemon bleach and expensive perfume. You look like a victim, but your eyes... sometimes, when you think no one is looking, they look like they could burn the world down."
Evelyn's breath hitched. The proximity was overwhelming. She could feel the heat of his body, the scent of his sandalwood cologne wrapping around her like a silken trap.
"I'm just... I'm just Evelyn, sir," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Killian leaned closer, his lips inches from her ear. "I don't believe you. But for now, you're the only thing standing between me and my mother's insanity. If I find out you're hiding something anything I'll make sure you never see that ten million dollars."
He reached out and tilted her glasses up, staring into her eyes. For a heartbeat, the "Ice King" looked vulnerable, like a man drowning who had just found a piece of driftwood he didn't quite trust.
Suddenly, a loud shout came from the dining hall.
"My phone! What happened to my phone?!" Marcus's voice echoed, frantic and panicked.
Killian pulled away, his brow furrowing. He gave Evelyn one last, lingering look before turning and sprinting back toward the dining room.
Evelyn stayed in the dark library for a moment, her legs shaking. She reached into her pocket and felt the cool metal of her hacking tool.
"The game is just beginning, Marcus," she whispered to the shadows.
She straightened her glasses, smoothed her dress, and walked back toward the lion's den. She had saved the King's throne again, and he still had no idea that his "Secret Weapon" was the girl he had just threatened.