Chapter 1
I turned off my phone screen and looked up.
Chris held out a glass of warm red wine to Shirley. "All resort planning for this private island will be handed over to Shirley from now on," he said, then turned to the mafia elders flanking the long table. He added, "She likes peace and quiet. From now on, no one is to bother her with trivial matters."
Shirley took the wine and merely nodded with a cold expression. The infatuation in Chris's eyes only grew deeper.
Sophia sat upright beside Chris, looking at me coldly before the wives of the elders. She said, "What are you looking at? A dark web hacker is the lowest of the low. Being permitted to set foot in the great hall is already more than you deserve. Don't even think about showing your face in public from now on. Keep your head down in the basement and do the accounts. Only a high-born noble like Shirley is fit to represent the family's dignity."
Several undisguised scoffs rang out around me. I responded in a low voice, "Understood, Madam."
Sophia averted her eyes in disgust. She said, "That crate of 1970 vintage champagne in the cellar hasn't been brought up yet. Hurry up and bring it over. Don't delay Chris's victory banquet."
I silently tied on my apron and turned to walk toward the dim cellar. To scrape together the final payment for the island, I'd spent over thirty straight hours working at a brutal pace on the dark web. My brain-machine interface had severely overloaded, leaving a severe tearing wound at the back of my neck.
When I lifted the heavy wooden wine crate, warm blood flowed down the back of my neck, soaking through my shirt collar. Dozens of guards and servants stood on both sides of the corridor, yet not one person lent a hand. They had long grown accustomed to Chris's contempt for me, recoiling in disgust, afraid the blood dripping from me would stain their shoes.
By the time I carried the crate back to the hall, the tribute presentation from the various families had just begun. Jade, firearms, and jewelry were presented on the long table one after another.
Chris smiled as he finished surveying the lavish tributes, his gaze finally settling on me. He slowly walked to my side, his long, powerful arm naturally wrapping around my waist, appearing like a picture of thoughtfulness to outsiders.
But the voice at my ear was laced with bone-chilling coldness. He whispered, "Today is my coronation day. You're standing before me empty-handed?"
I looked at him. "I bought that island," I said.
He let out a cold laugh. "That's nothing more than your duty to the family. How is that a gift?"
At that moment, Shirley, who had been silent throughout, reached into her trench coat pocket and withdrew an antique dagger of pure gold, offering it to Chris.
It was a defensive weapon I had pre-programmed into her underlying guard protocols and hidden in her pocket to prevent an assassination attempt on Chris.
Chris froze for a moment, then took the dagger as if it were a priceless treasure. He knelt on one knee beside Shirley and reverently kissed the back of her hand. He said, "As always, you're the one who understands my ambitions, Shirley. You never fob me off with things that reek of money."
Shirley gave no response. Her programming kept her expression perfectly aloof.
Chris stood up. He didn't spare a glance for the dark blood soaking through my shoulder. His voice was cold. "Tomorrow morning, you'll go with Shirley to city hall and get the tax exemption for the island pushed through. Shirley's used to finer things. She has no patience for this kind of thing. All the grunt work, the standing in line, the getting papers stamped, you handle every bit of it for her."
I nodded. "Okay."
