Chapter 7: Hunting in the Shadows and Breathless Chaos
1321 Words
Rumors regarding Astrid being hauled off to the "Forbidden Zone" for judgment spread through the Valkyrie Building like a virulent plague.
By noon, the air in the tenth-floor cafeteria was stagnant and thick with hostility. As Astrid sat down with her tray, the dense whispers surrounding her felt like physical needles made of ice. In the eyes of the masses, she was already a criminal executed by the Lord himself; the manuscript theft had been treated as an absolute truth by the court of public opinion.
Astrid remained oblivious to it all, her movements as she cut her steak precise and elegant. She looked up at Caspian, who sat opposite her. "Director, I’d like to apply for a few days of 'Silence Leave' starting the day after tomorrow."
Caspian looked at her pale complexion, and thinking of the morning's turmoil, he let out a helpless sigh. "Approved. You do need to settle your... emotions before we depart for Country S."
"Astrid, just keep your head down for a bit," Claire added urgently from the side. "Once the security system is fixed, the truth will come out."
"I’m not taking leave to hide from trash," Astrid replied flatly, though her eyes were terrifyingly cold. "Before I leave, I intend to drag the weasel out of the trap myself. I’m simply tired."
She nonchalantly pulled out her phone, opened the chat labeled "K," and sent a transfer of 50 Euros. The note read: Payment for the morning supplements.
Meanwhile, the strategic boardroom on the top floor was in a state of permafrost.
Killian was listening to regional managers report on the trade deficit of "Bloodline Fibers." The executives around the table were breathing so cautiously they might as well have stopped. Suddenly, his phone vibrated once.
Under the watchful eyes of the room, the habitually cold Lord tapped the message. Then, the corner of his mouth curved into a chilling, subtle arc—his first expression resembling a "smile" all day.
The executives exchanged glances, breaking into cold sweats. Sebastian, standing to the side, kept his gaze fixed on his toes, though a knowing smirk played on his lips.
"Meeting adjourned. We continue this afternoon." Killian’s long fingers tapped the screen, claiming the insignificant 50 Euros.
"I heard from HR that the Lord is personally interviewing for a private executive secretary—and he specified only women."
After lunch, Claire leaned into Astrid’s ear to share the latest gossip. "Do you think that eternal glacier is finally in rut? Is he looking for a mate?"
"Glacier?" Astrid thought of the stingy capitalist who didn't even pass up a 50-Euro transfer. She let out a cold snort. "That man’s heart is cast in pig iron. Not even a high-pressure blowtorch could melt through it."
After parting with Claire, Astrid headed to the underground garage. She locked her car doors and dialed Julian’s number.
She dismissed her absence from the previous night as a "sudden car trouble" and casually asked Julian to drop her car off at a specific maintenance shop.
It was amusing—because of her absence, Isabella, who had come to watch the drama, and Julian, who was waiting like a predator, had run straight into each other at the theater. To save face, they had performed a clumsy act of "running into a stranger." Julian had stood in the cold all night, only to receive his fiancée’s veiled mockery.
Julian sounded exceptionally considerate over the phone, even fawning. Astrid knew the scent: a man with a guilty conscience trying to wash away the stench of betrayal with service.
Hanging up, Astrid adjusted the hidden pinhole cameras in her car. She began to replay the micro-expressions of the designers from that morning in her mind.
Most of their anger was superficial, except for one person—the woman standing at the back with a faint, mocking sneer: Wen Qi.
She was the daughter of the Logistics Director and a pillar of the Design Department, known for using her family background and luxury gifts to buy influence. Astrid stared at the name on her screen, her eyes darkening.
Ten minutes before clock-out, Astrid committed her first professional transgression: she left her post early.
In the car, she changed into a sleek black tactical outfit, tucked her conspicuous blonde curls into a hood, and lurked in the shadows of the elevator exit.
When Wen Qi stepped out in her stiletto heels and sped away in a silver sports car, Astrid’s suspicions were confirmed. That license plate matched the one she had glimpsed in the garage the night before.
She contemplated for a few minutes and prepared to step out of the corner, but her haste caused her to collide head-on with a dark figure emerging from the private elevator.
Her canvas shoe caught on the man's leather brogue. Astrid lost her balance and let out a startled cry as she tumbled forward.
A powerful arm snaked around her waist, slamming her hard into a cold, solid chest. The hair tie holding her bun snapped under the impact, sending her golden hair cascading down like a waterfall.
By sheer inertia, her fingers clawed at his shirt. With two crisp pops, two buttons were torn clean off, one even bouncing off her forehead.
"Ouch!"
She pressed her forehead against his chest in pain, the bitter, cool scent of sandalwood instantly invading her senses.
When she finally steadied herself and looked up, she met Killian’s eyes—deep and dark as the midnight sea.
"Mr... Valerius..." Astrid’s throat went dry, her face flushing an uncontrollable crimson.
Even through the fabric, she could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat.
To the side, Sebastian immediately turned his head, showing a sudden and intense interest in the emergency exit map on the wall.
Killian looked down, his gaze lingering on her dishevelled hair before falling to his ruined shirt. Through the open collar, his powerful pectoral muscles and collarbone were laid bare.
"That is the second one you have destroyed," he said. His voice was steady, yet it held a low rasp that made her heart quiver.
Astrid gritted her teeth, her hands moving in a frantic blur as she tried to pull his lapels together. Her fingertips occasionally brushed against his scorching skin; Killian’s body stiffened visibly, his gaze turning somewhat hazy.
Once finished, Astrid took three rapid steps back and gave a standard 90-degree bow. "A thousand apologies, Mr. Valerius!"
Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Without a word, he handed her the phone he had picked up from the ground. Astrid snatched it and fled.
Sitting in her car, she slapped her burning cheeks. What is happening? Why do I keep losing my armor in front of this man?
After ensuring Killian had left, Astrid slipped back into the building.
She prepared two cups of specialized coffee, dissolving potent sedatives into them. Then, she knocked on the door of the security room.
Three knocks. The door opened to find no one there—only two steaming cups of coffee and a note that read: Thank you for your hard work.
Ten minutes later, all movement inside ceased. Astrid slipped silently into the surveillance room.
The cameras weren't broken; they had been edited by the "weasel." She found the shredded video fragments in the system’s recycle bin. It was Wen Qi, confirmed. The timestamp: 1:00 AM.
Dammit... when she drove away last night, did she see me and Killian in the car?
Astrid felt a surge of cold dread. The Wen family controlled Valkyrie’s core logistics. Exposing Wen Qi now could cause a rift between the clans and might even affect Killian.
She had to save this evidence for a more lethal moment.
Back in her small apartment, she ate a simple dinner while staring blankly at the expensive black blazer draped over her sofa.
That overbearing, stingy, and incredibly vengeful Lord... what on earth is he thinking?
- Writer
