?

  The office stays dim under a heavy, grey sky. Although the clock shows 1:00 PM, shadows fill the room. Adrian signs the final paper and caps his pen. A message from Mira lights up his screen. He quickly slides the phone into his pocket before the observant man beside him can see the name.

  “The IT team reports three attempts to breach the firewall. Your data on Fungal Metabolites in Neural Signaling has been copied,” Nate says. “The trace maps to an IP range registered to a Vale subsidiary.”

  Adrian sets the signed document aside. “Leave it. That dataset is dead. I swapped the identifiers and salted it with junk.”

  Nate’s brow furrows. "You baited them?"

  "We need proof. This isn't the first time, and I need to know who is behind this.”

  Nate snorts. “Proof,” he says. “You’re really going up against the Vale?”

  A beat. “What does that have to do with my disappeared colleague?” He watches Adrian closely, sensing the digital theft and the missing person are parts of the same puzzle.

  “He disappeared after the Marivena incident,” Adrian says.

  He looks at Nate. “Did you work with him before that?”

  Nate exhales. “I left the Vale a long time ago—right after your grandfather passed. Jonah worked under your granduncle’s supervision.”

  “His project focused on gene modification for major depressive disorder. His wife had treatment-resistant depression—bedridden for weeks at a time. She attempted suicide twice before it finally succeeded.”

  Nate pauses. “They had a daughter. If she’s still out there, she’d be around thirty now.”

  Nate looks toward the window, then continues. "Your grandfather shut the proposal down the second he found out the guy was experimenting on his own bloodline. No later than the guy vanished, your granduncle Ethan lost his mind and ended up paralyzed, likely from catatonic depression, before passing away a year after that. I am not sure if those events are related. Why don't you just ask your father?"

  "Catatonic depression?" Adrian repeats, already processing. His granduncle was a renowned genetic expert. A sudden decline like that makes it much more likely to be an acquired condition. The suspicious projects Adrian found via FlagThreshold recently appear to have a similar blueprint. Gene modification for a 'superior' heir, eternal life, and programmed emotions. They're under review by the International Bioethics Committee now. All of them pass through the Vale network. Adrian’s relationship with his father had never been warm, but this still landed wrong. Lucian had always been too careful to leave loose ends.

  Everything narrows to the confrontation he can’t avoid any longer.

  "It's a guess," Nate says, leaning back.

  “Thank you, Nate.”

  Adrian checks his watch and starts to rise. “Keep an eye on things here.”

  “You seem pressed for time,” Nate says, watching him with a curious smile. “Meeting up with your girlfriend?”

  Nate chuckles and taps the screen of his device. “I see the headlines. Your name is tied to scientific breakthroughs and dating rumors these days. You balance Nobel aspirations, family secrets, and tabloid gossip quite well, don't you?”

  "Mind your own business."

  “Giving me more work while you're off on a date?” Nate calls out.

  Adrian never shares his private life with Nate, but he doesn't hide his smirk. "You should find someone for yourself too, old man."

  Adrian heads out, phone to his ear, calling his girlfriend as the line rings unanswered.

  [Please note: I have moved this part to the middle of Vol 2 so the readers can understand Adrian's background a bit earlier. Thank you.]

  Just then Adrian leaves the room, Nate leans back, and the grin fades into thought, back to the first time he ever met Adrian Vale. That day never blurs with time—the shock of being blackmailed by a nine-year-old with eyes too knowing for the age he carried.

  Ten years ago.

  His system—flawless, fortified—had been breached. A single line of code revealed weakness in a contract worth millions, followed by a brief notice and an appointment.

  For a long moment, Nate simply studied the kid in front of him.

  The kid was too calm. Sitting there, sipping his tea as if this wasn’t a high-stakes meeting with a man known for ruining people’s careers. His small hands barely wrapped around the porcelain cup, his posture was perfectly poised.

  “You understand,” Nate said at last, his voice low, edged with a mix of warning and weariness, “I don’t deal with the Vales anymore—least of all a Vale child.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Adrian set the cup down, then, with a voice that made the air feel colder, Adrian recited him back to himself.

  “Dr. Nathaniel Calloway. The Phantom Engineer. Alchemist of the Grey Market. Underground biotech consultant. Broker of forbidden research. Specialist in neuro-bioengineering.” Each title landed like a knife laid carefully on the table. “Once the Vale family’s rising star, promising enough to stand at my grandfather’s side when neuroscience was still uncharted. You led neural regeneration projects that should have rewritten medicine—until you lost them. Until they took everything.”

  Nate’s jaw tensed. The words were spoken without hesitation by a boy who should have had no access to them.

  Adrian leaned back. “You’ve lived ever since with the betrayal they gave you, and the brilliance they stole. And yet here you are, still building in the shadows, still working because you can’t stop.”

  The tea between them steamed lazily. Nate, for once, found himself with no words. This wasn’t a child at the table. This was a Vale. And worse, one who already understood exactly who he was dealing with.

  "You’re either the smartest Vale I’ve ever met or the dumbest. Which is it?"

  Adrian folded his hands neatly in front of him.

  “I’m the first Vale you can’t control.”

  Nate’s smirk widened.

  "Big words for someone who barely reaches the edge of the table," he mused. He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the wooden surface. "Alright, kid. You wanted my attention, and you got it. But let’s see if you can hold it."

  He reached into his coat, pulled out a tablet, and slid it across the table toward Adrian. The screen displayed a detailed contract.

  "A hundred-thousand-dollar deal," Nate said, watching the boy’s expression carefully. "Client wants a cognitive enhancement formula that boosts memory retention beyond human limitations. Think you can solve it?"

  Nate added, taking another sip of his coffee. "It’s bullshit. Scientifically impossible. No one could fulfil this contract. Not legally, not ethically, and definitely not realistically. But the money is real. So, tell me, genius—what’s your move?"

  Nate expected the kid to start scribbling equations or analyzing formulas like every desperate scientist before him. Instead, Adrian smirked.

  "This client, he doesn’t actually care about cognitive enhancement, does he?"

  Nate was surprised. "Oh?"

  Adrian continues. "He wants to believe he’s getting smarter. That’s what he’s paying for. The illusion of intelligence. "

  Nate’s amusement deepened. He gestured for Adrian to continue.

  The kid did.

  "If he truly wanted enhancement, he’d be asking for a tailored regimen, not an instant-fix formula," Adrian continued. "He’s paranoid—afraid of falling behind, afraid of losing his edge. That’s what drives him."

  The boy was sharper than he expected.

  "Alright," he said. "So you've figured out the scam. What’s your solution?"

  Adrian finally picked up the tablet to rewrite the contract.

  In minutes, he had created an entirely new service package—one that didn’t sell an impossible formula, but instead a placebo protocol: legal nootropics, a custom neural training plan, and a psychological reinforcement schedule designed to make the client feel like he was improving.

  Adrian structured the payments differently, changing a one-time hundred-thousand-dollar fee to a six-month subscription plan, ensuring the client kept paying to maintain the illusion.

  The final total was half a million dollars.

  Adrian pushed the tablet back toward Nate. "Your contract was worthless," he said simply. "I just made it worth five times more."

  Nate scanned the changes and let out a short breath, a crooked smile edging onto his face.

  “You’re a manipulative little bastard.”

  Adrian sat still, expression unchanged. "Says the man who was going to sell him snake oil."

  Nate barked out another laugh. "Fair enough."

  Just then, Nate tapped a brief message on his phone, sending the revised contract to the client. He barely had to wait. Less than sixty seconds later, his screen flashed with a confirmation. The deal was accepted—just like that.

  Half a million dollars. Secured.

  Nate set the tablet down and regarded Adrian with new eyes. He wasn’t just some Vale brat trying to prove himself. He was dangerous. Brilliant. Reckless.

  And useful.

  "Fine," Nate said at last, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You’ve got my attention." He studied Adrian, curiosity burning behind his sharp gaze. "Now tell me—what the hell do you want from me?"

  “I want a company,” Adrian said simply.

  “Oh? And here I thought you were just a talented kid looking for a challenge.” He narrowed his eyes, confusion edging into his expression. “Tell me, Adrian, why the hell would I put my name on a company that you’ll be running from the shadows?”

  Adrian took another sip of his tea, as calm as ever. “Because it benefits you.”

  Nate let out a short laugh. “Does it now?”

  “You get exclusive access to my research,” Adrian continued smoothly. “You get to build something independent of the Vales. And most importantly, if you don’t do it, someone else will.”

  That gave Nate pause.

  This kid had already hacked into one of his firms. Had already manipulated a high-profile contract into a half-million-dollar deal. If Adrian Vale wanted a front for his operations, he’d find one—with or without Nate.

  Nate studied the boy in front of him for a long while. “You’re playing a dangerous game, kid.”

  Adrian looked straight at Nate, utterly calm. “So are you.”

  A beat of silence passed. Then, Nate shook his head in amused disbelief.

  “Alright,” he said, leaning back. “Let’s do it.”

  Within weeks, Calloway Analytics was officially registered. On paper, it appeared as a multifaceted powerhouse, blending high-end biotech with sophisticated financial engineering. The firm specialized in AI diagnostics and cognitive performance while simultaneously operating a private, high-frequency trading desk driven by predictive modeling. Everyone believed the company belonged to Nate, never knowing that the real genius was a boy they would never meet.

  Adrian relied on no one and held a deep distrust for the system and its facade of fairness or unity. To him, politics, investment, and research were merely games where the powerful and the smart held every key. Government grants and institutional funds were chains forged for bureaucratic agendas and group interests. He bypassed these established channels to ensure his work remained shielded from those seeking to co-opt or crush what they could not control, building a private kingdom that answered to no one.

  By the time he turned fourteen, Calloway Analytics was worth billions.

  Seeing him now, Nate has never thought this cold and hopeless genius would finally go legit and eventually learn to love someone.

  ?