"Fifteen billion for a lithium mine that doesn't exist."
Lucien's voice carried the kind of arctic calm that preceded mass executions, but Vivian could see the warning signs blazing like neon—white knuckles gripping his Mont Blanc pen hard enough to snap it, the muscle twitching in his jaw like a live wire, and those storm-gray eyes that had gone completely flat and predatory. Across the mahogany conference table, Hengtian Group's CEO continued spinning his web of lies with the oblivious confidence of a lamb waltzing into a slaughterhouse.
*He's about thirty seconds from committing murder in front of witnesses.*
**[NEURAL STRESS LEVELS: CRITICAL OVERLOAD]**
**[HOST MENTAL STATE: VIOLENT THRESHOLD IMMINENT]**
**[IMMEDIATE PROXIMITY REQUIRED FOR STABILIZATION]**
The tinnitus in Lucien's head was building to a crescendo that felt like molten steel being poured directly into his brain. Every fabricated financial report, every fake smile from Zhao Defa's lying mouth pushed him closer to the kind of violence that would dominate news cycles for months.
*Crack.*
The sound of sunflower seeds being expertly shelled sliced through the tension like a blade through silk.
Every head in the room whipped toward the corner where Vivian sat in her janitor disguise, methodically working through a bag of seeds with the focused precision of a master craftsman. The rhythmic cracking was oddly hypnotic—a metronome keeping time in the eye of a hurricane.
*Perfect timing. He needs an anchor before he paints these walls with blood.*
"Excuse me," Zhao Defa sputtered, his face flushing crimson with indignation. "This is a confidential business negotiation. Security needs to remove this... cleaning person... immediately."
Vivian rose with liquid grace and walked directly to Lucien's chair, settling herself on the leather armrest like she'd been born to occupy that exact space. The proximity hit like an electric shock—she could feel the barely contained violence radiating from his body like heat from a nuclear reactor.
"Here." She held a small pile of perfectly shelled seeds to his lips, her voice carrying the kind of casual intimacy that made billion-dollar deals feel like pillow talk. "You look like you could use some brain food."
Lucien's hand shot out and clamped around her wrist with bruising force, but instead of throwing her across the room, he went completely still. The constant screaming in his head... stopped. Just like that. The relief was so profound it bordered on religious experience.
*She's the antidote. Whatever the hell she is, she's the only thing that makes the torture stop.*
"The moisture content in his presentation is fascinating," Vivian observed conversationally, popping a seed into her own mouth with deliberate provocation. "Roughly ninety percent water, ten percent premium-grade bullshit."
"I beg your pardon?" Zhao Defa's voice cracked like a prepubescent boy's.
Vivian's entire demeanor shifted, her casual mask sliding away to reveal something sharp and predatory underneath. **[JUDGE SYSTEM: FULL ACTIVATION]**
**[TARGET ACQUIRED: ZHAO DEFA]**
**[CRIMINAL HISTORY: EXTENSIVE VIOLATIONS DETECTED]**
**[FINANCIAL FRAUD: MULTIPLE COUNTS CONFIRMED]**
**[PERSONAL SECRETS: HIGH-VALUE BLACKMAIL MATERIAL AVAILABLE]**
"Let's start with the obvious fabrications," she said, her voice taking on the clinical precision of a surgeon preparing to operate without anesthesia. "Those geological surveys you submitted? Forged by a graphics design student in Mumbai for three hundred dollars. The mineral content reports? Pure fiction written by someone who clearly failed high school chemistry."
Zhao Defa's face transformed from red to ash-white in record time. "That's... that's completely baseless slander—"
"The fifteen billion you're requesting would be immediately transferred to account 4471-8829-3366 at Cayman International Bank," Vivian continued with devastating calm. "Registered under 'Lily Chen'—your twenty-three-year-old mistress who thinks she's getting a penthouse apartment but is actually funding your one-way ticket to a non-extradition country."
*Direct hit to the solar plexus. Watch him crumble like wet paper.*
"How could you possibly—" Zhao's voice barely qualified as a whisper.
"Oh, we're just warming up." Vivian's smile could have performed open-heart surgery. "Should we discuss little Kevin? Your illegitimate son born to your secretary in 2019? The one your wife doesn't know exists? The one you've been supporting with embezzled company funds while she thinks you're working late?"
Zhao Defa collapsed into his chair like a building undergoing controlled demolition.
"Or perhaps we should examine your second marriage certificate? Filed in Macau while you were still legally married to wife number one? Bigamy carries a mandatory seven-year sentence in this jurisdiction, doesn't it?"
*Checkmate. Game over. Insert coin to continue.*
Lucien released her wrist and stood with the fluid grace of an apex predator who'd just spotted wounded prey. "Marcus," he said without breaking eye contact with the broken man across the table. "Contact the Economic Crimes Division. Mr. Zhao has some very interesting explaining to do."
"Sir, please, I can explain everything—" Zhao tried to stand but his legs had apparently forgotten their primary function.
"Also call our legal department," Lucien continued with the kind of cold satisfaction that made arctic winters look tropical. "I want Hengtian Group sued into bankruptcy for attempted fraud. Seize every asset. Freeze every account. Make sure both Mrs. Zhaos receive detailed copies of the bigamy evidence."
As security personnel dragged the sobbing CEO toward what would undoubtedly be a very unpleasant future, the conference room settled into blessed silence. Lucien turned to face Vivian, who remained perched on his chair like she owned both it and him.
"Remarkable talents you possess, Ms. Johnson." He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his expensive cologne and see the dangerous fascination burning in his eyes like molten silver. "Almost like you can peer directly into people's souls and catalog their sins."
*Extremely dangerous territory. He's getting too close to truths that could kill us both.*
"Just excellent at reading micro-expressions," she replied with practiced nonchalance. "Body language tells. Basic applied psychology."
"Is that your professional assessment?" His hands braced on either side of her, creating a cage of expensive suit and masculine heat. "What am I thinking right now?"
*That you want to strip away every layer of my disguise until you find the truth underneath. And that discovering that truth might destroy us both.*
Before she could formulate a response that wouldn't get her killed, Marcus burst through the door with the kind of panic-stricken urgency that suggested imminent apocalypse.
"Sir! We've identified the organization behind the fraud attempt!" He thrust a tablet toward Lucien with hands that shook like earthquake aftershocks. "They call themselves Hellfire. And their primary target isn't financial—it's someone code-named 'X.'"
Vivian's blood crystallized into ice as she scanned the intelligence report. The pieces clicked together with the horrifying precision of a perfectly engineered trap.
"They never wanted the money," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the sudden tension like a scalpel through flesh. "They want the lithium mine itself. Lithium is a critical component in synthesizing advanced neural toxins—the kind that can systematically drive people insane."
She looked up to meet Lucien's eyes, seeing her own terrible realization reflected in those storm-gray depths.
"This was never about business fraud. They're trying to build a chemical weapons laboratory right under your nose. A factory for manufacturing madness itself."
The implications hung in the air like poison gas, and Vivian realized they'd just stumbled into something infinitely more dangerous than corporate espionage.