Chapter 181 - 180 Emily’s Grandmaster and Aunt

( ALISTAIR )

Violence looks remarkably elegant when executed by the right person.

I stand alone inside the primary glass office of the Ultimate Power Laboratory. The air down here is heavily filtered and smells faintly of sterile cleaning solutions and hot circuitry. I hold a transparent data tablet in my right hand. The screen displays an encrypted video file captured from the security cameras mounted outside Bordeaux 101.

I watch the footage for the third consecutive time.

Naya Zone stands on the sunbaked concrete sidewalk. Even without audio, her frantic, entitled rage is entirely palpable. Her chest heaves under her designer dress. She points a manicured finger at Emily’s face, her mouth moving in rapid, venomous syllables.

Then Emily moves.

She does not hesitate. She does not telegraph her strike. Her right hand swings backward and connects with Naya’s cheek in a flawless, devastating arc. The impact is so severe it knocks the politician’s daughter completely off balance. Naya stumbles, her expensive stiletto twisting awkwardly against the pavement.

A slow, dark smile curves the corners of my mouth.

I tap the screen, unmuting the audio feed captured by Leo’s concealed lapel microphone. The sharp, cracking sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through my quiet office.

"So what if I hit you?" Emily’s voice is dead level, carrying the absolute weight of a physical blow. "Go home and tattle to your dad."

I pause the video, freezing the image on Emily’s face. Her dark eyes are utterly fearless. She looks like a predator standing over a wounded animal. She did not cower behind my name. She did not summon her security detail to fight her battles. She handled the threat with her own two hands.

My encrypted phone vibrates on the glass desk. I pick it up and answer without checking the caller ID.

"Sir, you received the transmission," Leo says. His voice is a low, disciplined baritone over the secure line.

"I am watching it now," I reply, keeping my gaze fixed on Emily’s frozen image. "She handled Miss Zone efficiently. Naya will not attempt another direct physical confrontation. She lacks the courage for an actual fight."

"I agree, sir," Leo says. "But Miss Zone is a secondary concern at this exact moment. I transmitted a second encrypted folder to your tablet. You need to review the contents immediately."

I swipe my thumb across the transparent glass of the tablet. The video player shrinks into the corner, replaced by a dense, text-heavy digital dossier. A photograph of a younger, clean-shaven man in a white laboratory coat occupies the top right corner of the screen.

"Dr. Elias Mercer," I read aloud, scanning the bold black text.

"The man the Madam visited in the old district this afternoon," Leo confirms. "I ran a deep background diagnostic on him while she was inside his apartment. The results are highly problematic."

I expand the file, my eyes tracking across paragraphs of academic history, institutional records, and corporate blacklists. The sterile chill of the underground laboratory seems to seep directly into my bones as I process the information.

Elias Mercer was not always a tired, unkempt high school chemistry teacher subsisting in a dilapidated apartment. Fifteen years ago, he was the absolute pride of Etland Medical University. He was the class valedictorian. He was a brilliant, highly sought-after researcher pushing the boundaries of synthetic pharmacology.

"Look at his mentor, sir," Leo instructs over the phone.

I scroll down to the institutional lineage section. The name jumps off the screen, bold and undeniable. Professor Chase.

The pieces of the puzzle snap together with a violent, jarring clarity. I remember Professor Chase perfectly. He is the arrogant, tenured academic who stormed into the private dining suite at Bordeaux 101 just a few days ago, aggressively defending his current star pupil, Chloe Vance.

"Professor Chase mentored Elias Mercer," I say, speaking the connections aloud as my brain constructs the timeline. "Elias Mercer mentored Emily. He provided her with the basement laboratory where she synthesized SN1818."

"Correct, sir," Leo replies. "In the traditional academic hierarchy, Professor Chase is the Madam’s grandmaster. He is her academic grandfather."

I let out a short, cynical laugh. The sheer irony of the situation borders on the absurd.

"And Chloe Vance is currently studying directly under Professor Chase," I continue, tracing the names on the glass screen. "That makes Chloe her academic aunt. Emily is about to walk onto that campus and step directly into a nested web of her worst enemies."

"The lineage is unfortunate, sir, but it is not the primary threat," Leo says. His tone drops a fraction, carrying a heavy weight of professional concern. "Scroll down to the disciplinary records from a decade ago. Read the details of his termination."

I swipe further down the document. The glowing text outlines a catastrophic, highly publicized fall from grace.

Ten years ago, Etland Medical University launched a massive internal investigation. Confidential, proprietary chemical formulas developed inside the university’s most secure laboratories were leaked to a rival pharmaceutical conglomerate. Millions of dollars in research funding evaporated overnight.

The investigation concluded with a single, undeniable suspect. Dr. Elias Mercer.

"He was accused of selling classified scientific secrets," I state, reading the final summary report. "The university stripped him of his credentials. They blacklisted him from every major medical facility and corporate laboratory in the country."

"Professor Chase led the tribunal," Leo adds, his voice grim. "He publicly severed his master-disciple relationship with Mercer. He threw him entirely to the wolves to protect his own tenure and reputation. Mercer had absolutely nowhere to go. He could not maintain a foothold in the scientific community. He was forced to take a low-paying teaching position at a public high school in the old district just to survive. That is where he met the Madam."

I set the tablet down on the glass desk. I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the primary research floor of the Ultimate Power Laboratory. Dozens of scientists in white coats move between massive server banks and chemical testing stations. They handle billions of dollars in proprietary technology every single day. Trust is the only currency that prevents this entire empire from collapsing into corporate espionage.

"You believe Mercer is a liability," I say, staring down at the busy laboratory floor.

"I believe a man who sells secrets once is perfectly capable of doing it again, sir," Leo replies bluntly. "Mercer has severe character issues. He is a traitor to his own institution. The Madam trusts him implicitly. She went to the market today. She bought him fresh vegetables and cooked a meal in his kitchen. She treats him like a surrogate father."

Leo pauses, letting the silence hang over the secure line for a long moment.

"The Madam is holding the formula for SN1818," Leo continues quietly. "It is the most valuable medical patent of the decade. If Mercer decides to leverage her genius to buy his way back into the academic elite, he will exploit her without a second thought. I am highly concerned he is using her affection to manipulate her."

I place my hand flat against the cold glass window. The temperature of the room feels irrelevant compared to the dark, violent protectiveness surging through my veins.

I understand Leo’s concern perfectly. Emily operates with an incredibly guarded heart. She survived the Vance family by building towering emotional walls. She trusts almost no one. Yet, she handed Elias Mercer her absolute loyalty because he offered her a dark, damp basement when she had nothing else.

If Elias is actively manipulating her for financial gain, I will erase him from the face of Asuir City. I will dismantle his life so thoroughly he will beg for the days of eating instant noodles in a dilapidated apartment.

"She does not know, Leo," I say softly. "She has absolutely no idea about his past."

"I am certain she doesn’t, sir," Leo agrees. "She spoke to him with complete reverence. Do you want me to brief her on the dossier? She needs to understand the nature of the man she is dealing with before she enrolls at Etland."

I close my eyes, picturing Emily’s face. I picture the fierce, unwavering determination in her dark eyes. She operates on a rigid code of loyalty. She protects the people who protect her.

"No," I command, my voice leaving absolutely zero room for debate. "Do not say a single word to her. You will bury this dossier. You will not mention Professor Chase, and you will not mention the leak."

"Sir?" Leo asks, genuine confusion bleeding into his tone. "She is walking blind into a hostile environment."

"She is walking in with her trust intact," I correct him, turning away from the window. "Listen to me very carefully, Leo. Emily is deeply, fiercely principled. If we hand her this file right now, one of two things will happen. If Elias Mercer is actually innocent and was framed by Professor Chase ten years ago, Emily will declare a total, scorched-earth war on Etland Medical University to clear his name. She will burn her own academic future to the ground just to seek justice for her teacher."

I pace slowly across the polished steel floor of the office, my expensive leather shoes making no sound.

"And if he is guilty?" I continue, my chest tightening uncomfortably. "If her beloved teacher truly sold out his colleagues for a paycheck? It will shatter her. She already survived Julian Thorne’s betrayal. She survived her father selling her to Silas Hunt. If the one man who fostered her genius turns out to be a corrupt traitor, it will completely break her faith in humanity. I will not let that happen until I know exactly what I am handing her."

"Understood, sir," Leo says smoothly, falling instantly back into line. "I will maintain absolute silence."

"Keep a close watch on Mercer," I order. "If he asks her for data, if he asks her for chemical compounds, you notify me immediately. Do not let him out of your sight when she visits that apartment."

I end the call. The silence of the glass office returns, thick and heavy.

I pick up the tablet again, staring at the photograph of Elias Mercer. The man in the picture looks ambitious, sharp, and hungry. He does not look like the exhausted, broken shell of a teacher Emily described to me during her rare moments of vulnerability. Ten years is a long time to suffer in the dark.

I tap a different icon on the glass screen, dialing my primary assistant.

Jackson answers on the second ring. "Mr. Wolfe. The acquisition papers for the new lithium refinement plant are ready for your signature."

"The lithium plant can wait," I state, dropping into the heavy leather chair behind my desk. "I need you to resurrect a ghost, Jackson."

"I am pulling up a fresh terminal now, sir. Give me the parameters."

"Ten years ago, a massive intellectual property leak occurred at Etland Medical University," I explain, speaking with rapid, surgical precision. "Dr. Elias Mercer was the primary suspect. Professor Chase led the tribunal that destroyed his career. I want every single piece of data you can scrape from those old servers."

I hear the rapid clattering of a high-end mechanical keyboard filtering through the speaker. Jackson is already working.

"You are asking for buried institutional records, sir," Jackson notes, his voice completely calm. "The university will have scrubbed the external facing servers years ago."

"Then you dig into the internal archives," I command. "Bribe the server technicians. Hack the administrative mainframes. I do not care how much it costs or what laws you have to break. I want the original investigation reports. I want the financial trails of every single researcher involved in that project. I want to know exactly what was stolen, who bought it, and if Elias Mercer actually pulled the trigger."

"I will have a preliminary brief on your desk within forty-eight hours, Mr. Wolfe."

"Make it twenty-four," I reply, ending the call.

I toss the phone onto the desk. I lean back in the leather chair, staring up at the sterile white ceiling of the underground laboratory.

I built the Ultimate Power Laboratory for one specific purpose. I want the Wolfe Empire to be number one in the entire world. I want to transcend the Odin Group and the Deep Blue Group. I pour billions into researching new energy sources, chasing the myth of the Stellar Core Meteorite Gold, purely to secure absolute, uncontested global dominance.

Yet, sitting in the command center of my multi-billion-dollar empire, my primary concern has nothing to do with corporate supremacy.

My primary concern is a stubborn, brilliant young woman who refuses to ask for my help.

I rub my temples, feeling a dull ache forming behind my eyes. I told myself repeatedly that Emily was merely the vessel for my heir. I told myself my heart belonged entirely to the memory of Kiki, the mysterious woman who saved me in the Blackwood Gorge three years ago.

But Kiki is a ghost. Emily is a terrifyingly real force of nature who slaps her enemies on public sidewalks and cooks meals for disgraced teachers in dilapidated apartments.

I will tear Etland Medical University apart brick by brick before I let them hurt her.