Chapter 182
Chapter 182
"Let them make noise." Theodore spoke into the phone. "Open the Hive entrance wider—don't make it hard for them to get in. And record the full attack data. I want a complete 'crime report.'"
Ryan paused, then understood immediately. "Yes, boss."
After hanging up, the study fell quiet again.
Yasmin sat down across from him and asked, "Can your tech team hold them off?"
"The salary they're getting is enough to withstand a small-scale cyber war." Theodore's tone was casual. He picked up another encrypted phone and dialed.
The call was answered after one ring. A voice with a heavy California accent spoke in Chinese: "Boss? What do you need? We're playing hide-and-seek with these little mice right now. Honestly, their tech's nothing special—just lots of them."
"In five minutes, I want the real physical addresses of their main IPs." Theodore ignored the banter.
"OK, piece of cake. We'll pin it down to street numbers. Want us to send them a pizza?"
"No. Send the addresses to the Roberts Group's board members."
The person on the other end whistled. Understood instantly.
This was telling the opponent: I know who you are. I know where you are.
This night was destined to be sleepless.
---
At dawn, Ryan called again, voice carrying the exhaustion and excitement of settled dust.
"Boss, it's over. They attacked for four hours straight, ran out of steam, and retreated."
"Results."
"Our side—zero data loss. System load peaked at only seventy percent during maximum attack. We dragged them into the Hive—they got nothing, and we reverse-copied data from three of their main servers. Silicon Valley says it'll keep them busy for a while."
"Ms. White's studio also safely intercepted all attacks. They didn't even crack the folder password."
Theodore made a sound of acknowledgment.
"Also," Ryan added, "we located several core attack sources. Physical addresses in Europe. One is right in the headquarters building of that consulting firm partnering with the Roberts Group."
Everything lined up.
Theodore hung up and looked out the window.
Dawn was breaking on the horizon.
Yasmin hadn't slept all night. Faint shadows showed under her eyes, but her spirits weren't flagging.
She stood and poured herself water.
"I need to go to Europe." She said.
Theodore looked up at her.
"Copyright certification is just the first step." Yasmin's voice was calm. "That designer and the PR firm behind him—I need to meet them myself. Just defending from the back is too passive."
Yasmin wasn't the type to hide under her husband's wing seeking protection. Her career was her battlefield.
When someone came knocking, she had no reason not to fight back.
Theodore was silent for a few seconds.
He didn't say "you can't go" or "it's too dangerous."
He just stood, walked to her, took the water glass from her hand, and replaced it with warm water.
"When are you leaving?"
"As soon as possible. This afternoon."
"Okay." He agreed, then picked up his phone, walked aside, and gave a few low instructions.
---
That afternoon, Yasmin packed light luggage and prepared to leave for the airport.
At the entrance, she saw two men in black suits and a capable-looking woman with short hair.
All three had upright postures, an aura distinctly different from ordinary people.
"Ms. White," the lead man bowed slightly, "we've been assigned by Mr. Prescott to handle security for your Europe trip. I'm Mason."
Yasmin froze, turning to look at Theodore descending the stairs.
He'd changed into work clothes—a dark suit that made his frame even more imposing.
"I don't want to hear about any incidents." He looked at her. The words were an order, but sounded more like concern.
Yasmin didn't speak. Just nodded.
This was his way of ensuring her expedition was protected.
"I'm counting on you with Noah." She said.
"Mm."
No embrace. No goodbye.
Yasmin turned, leading her small "army" out the door.
Theodore stood in place, watching her figure disappear around the corner. He stood for a long time.
Ryan appeared behind him at some point.
"Boss, the car's ready."
Theodore withdrew his gaze. The warmth in his eyes had completely cooled.
"Notify Legal," he said while walking out, "send cease-and-desist letters to the Roberts Group and those foundations. Sue them for unfair business competition and theft of trade secrets."
"But boss, our direct evidence of their theft..."
"I don't need direct evidence." Theodore cut him off, steps unwavering. "What I want is for all their European partners to know they've crossed the Prescott Group. I want them overwhelmed, too busy to harass my people."
This war's defensive phase was over.
Now it was his turn to attack.
---
When the plane landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris was drizzling.
The damp cold air washed away the last trace of warmth from the Prescott family that clung to Yasmin.
She pulled her trench coat tighter and, under Mason's escort, got into a black Mercedes.
Street scenes flew past the window. Neon lights smeared blurry spots of color on the wet glass.
"Ms. White, the hotel is arranged. Martin, chief attorney from the international copyright firm, will meet you at the hotel in an hour." Mason sat in the passenger seat, voice steady like a precise machine.
"Good." Yasmin replied, gaze still on the window.
Her phone screen lit up. A video call request from Noah.
When she connected, Noah's enlarged face filled the screen. Background showed the living room carpet with scattered Lego blocks.
"Mommy! Did you go to the sky?"
Yasmin smiled. "Mommy's in another city. It just got dark here."
"Oh." Noah seemed to understand, swiveling the camera to the side. "Daddy's reading. He won't play with me."
In the frame, Theodore sat on the sofa, laptop on his legs, but holding a children's storybook, turning pages one by one.
Sensing the camera, he looked up. His gaze pierced through the screen, landing precisely on Yasmin's face.
He said nothing. Just closed the storybook and set it aside.
"Noah, time for bed." His voice came through the connection, slightly distorted.
"Okay." Noah was reluctant but leaned toward the camera and kissed it hard. "Goodnight, Mommy."
The video ended. The car fell quiet.
Yasmin looked at the darkened screen, fingers unconsciously rubbing the phone's cold edge.
He was telling her: I've got things at home. Don't worry.
---
Meanwhile, the Prescott Group's top floor—the CEO's office blazed with light.
When Ryan entered, Theodore was ending a cross-border video conference.
On screen, a uniformed man with a badge showing a globe and scales had just disappeared.
"Boss, everything's arranged." Ryan handed over a file. "The International Cybersecurity Coalition has officially opened a case. Based on attack data chains captured by our Hive system, they've identified three main servers and seven core members. The red notice application is already in process."
Theodore opened the file. Several photos—men and women, different nationalities.
"That fast?"
"The Silicon Valley tech team has a former member who's now a special consultant to the Coalition." Ryan explained. "We basically gift-wrapped a complete confession and criminal tools and dropped them in their laps. If they don't take it, next year's budget won't get approved."
Theodore closed the file and tossed it on the desk.
"What about the Roberts Group?"
"Legal's cease-and-desist letters have been delivered to their European headquarters and all board members' personal emails. Their PR and legal departments should be in crisis mode now." Ryan's expression was subtle. "Interestingly, right after we sent the letters, their stock dropped two points in after-hours trading. The market's more sensitive than we thought."
"Take some of that reverse-copied data—not fatal but nasty enough—and 'accidentally' leak it to a few European business magazines." Theodore picked up the long-cold coffee on his desk and took a sip. "Say it's from an anonymous whistleblower."