Chapter 184
Chapter 184
The real operational data was like crumpled paper, and what Theodore had just seen was the carefully ironed version.
More importantly, he'd discovered an abnormal data port.
At a fixed time each dawn, tiny data packets flowed out through this port.
Traffic so minimal it could be mistaken for normal system redundancy.
But Theodore didn't think so.
He picked up the internal phone and connected to Ryan.
"Boss? Still awake this late?" Ryan's voice carried sleepiness.
"North American branch—the data has problems." Theodore's voice was flat, emotionless.
Ryan instantly snapped awake. "How serious?"
"Someone's passing information out."
Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then Ryan's low curse.
"Those ghosts again. I'll arrange people to—"
"No need." Theodore cut him off. "Suspend all of David's duties and system permissions, effective immediately. Have North American legal and security intervene, seal his office and all electronic devices. Initiate the highest internal review protocol."
His instructions were clear, calm, without a trace of hesitation.
"Just because of data anomalies?" Ryan was surprised. This handling was almost ruthlessly swift.
"I don't need clumsy fortune-tellers in my company." Theodore hung up.
He looked at that small abnormal port on the screen, eyes cold as ice.
The prey had revealed its tail. Now it was time to close the net.
---
Two days later, Yasmin returned home.
When the plane landed at the international airport and she emerged from the VIP passage, there was no media siege as imagined.
Everything was calm.
Mason and his team still followed behind her, but the tense combat readiness had relaxed.
"Ms. White, the car is ready."
Yasmin nodded, her gaze moving past him to spot a familiar Bentley parked nearby.
She walked over. The car door opened, and a small figure bounded out first.
"Mommy!"
Noah charged over like a little cannonball and threw his arms around her legs.
Yasmin bent down and lifted him up. Noah planted a forceful kiss on her face, bringing a milky sweet scent.
"Mommy, did you defeat the big bad guys?" Noah looked up at her with bright, sparkling eyes.
Yasmin smiled and pinched his nose. "I did."
She held Noah and looked into the car.
Theodore sat in the back seat, watching them. He didn't get out, just let his gaze rest on her face for a few seconds.
Yasmin got in with Noah.
The atmosphere in the car was subtly charged.
"Daddy said you went on a business trip to fight monsters." Noah nestled in Yasmin's arms, tattling softly. "He wouldn't take me."
"Mm, next time I'll take you." Yasmin responded absently, her gaze meeting Theodore's in the rearview mirror.
"I brought back several collaboration proposals." She spoke, voice hoarse from the long flight.
"I know." Theodore acknowledged, then said, "There was a small issue on the North American side. Already handled."
Their conversation was brief, sounding like a work information exchange.
But Yasmin understood. He was telling her there was more than one battlefield. On his side, he hadn't been idle either.
---
Back at Prescott Villa, Yasmin took a shower first.
After changing out of her travel-worn clothes, she finally relaxed.
When she emerged from her room, she saw Theodore standing at the end of the hallway on the phone, voice kept low, but words like "internal review" and "corporate espionage" still drifted to Yasmin's ears.
He saw her. Didn't avoid her. Just quickly ended the call.
"Everything in Europe finished?" he asked.
"For now." Yasmin walked to him. "Nico's career is over. The PR firm behind him paid a hefty sum and their reputation is ruined. The Roberts Group publicly apologized and distanced themselves."
She spoke calmly, as if discussing something unrelated to her.
"While I was there, I reached preliminary cooperation with the European Independent Designers Association. Also, three luxury brands expressed interest in collaborating on the 'Rebirth' collection. One of them is the Roberts Group's mortal enemy."
She hadn't just won the lawsuit—she'd brought back spoils of war.
Theodore looked at her.
The woman before him had only been gone a week, but something had fundamentally changed.
Before, when Yasmin looked at him, her eyes always held cautious hope and undisguised adoration.
Now they were clean, bright—like sky washed by rain.
She was no longer Mrs. Prescott hiding under his wing.
She had become Yasmin.
"Good." After a long moment, he replied.
---
Yasmin's studio, because of this European trip, had thoroughly made its name internationally.
Maria's phone was practically exploding with calls. Collaboration invitations flew in like snowflakes.
The studio had been a small, elite team. Now it had to immediately begin large-scale expansion.
The day after returning, Yasmin dove headfirst into the studio, busy beyond measure.
That evening, while finalizing new office locations with Maria, her phone rang.
Theodore.
"There's a reception tonight. Come with me."
Not a request—a notification.
Yasmin glanced at her packed schedule, instinctively wanting to refuse.
"The Roberts Group's CEO will be there too." On the other end, Theodore added another line.
Yasmin's hand holding the pen paused.
She understood.
This wasn't an ordinary business reception.
This was a victory celebration he'd arranged for her. Also a demonstration.
Theodore wanted everyone to see—his people, he protected.
Whoever touched them would pay a price.
"Okay." Yasmin agreed. "Send me the address. I'll head over after I finish up."
"I'll pick you up."
The call ended. Maria leaned over, face full of gossip. "Boss, was that Mr. Prescott? Did you two... make up?"
Yasmin shook her head and smiled.
Not making up.
Forming an alliance.
---
The reception.
Wine glasses clinked.
When Yasmin entered the ballroom on Theodore's arm, nearly every gaze turned toward them.
She wore a dark green velvet gown today—simple in design but perfectly complementing her fair skin and calm temperament.
No jewelry adorned her neck, which only highlighted the fragile, graceful swan-like curve.
She was no longer the Mrs. Prescott who followed step by step with eyes only for Theodore. She stood straight, gaze calmly sweeping the room, carrying the composure of someone freshly returned victorious from battle.
Theodore said nothing. Just grabbed her a glass of warm water when passing a server with champagne.
"The Roberts Group's Asia-Pacific president, Frank." Theodore tilted his head slightly, voice audible only to them. "That balding fat man."
Yasmin followed his gaze and indeed saw a man with a receding hairline surrounded by a crowd, face ruddy and beaming.
As if sensing their attention, Frank raised his glass and walked over.
"Mr. Prescott, what an honor." His smile was broad, but his eyes swept over Yasmin. "This must be Mrs. Prescott. Truly, seeing is believing."
"Mr. Miller," Yasmin extended her hand before he could continue, smile polished. "I'm Yasmin, design director of Yasmin Studio."
She deliberately emphasized the second half.
Frank's smile froze. His handshake was brief, barely a touch.
"Ms. White, young and accomplished. I heard about the Europe situation—just a misunderstanding. I hope it didn't affect your mood."
He spoke lightly, as if the lawsuit that had caused such uproar was child's play.
"How could it be a misunderstanding?" Yasmin tilted her head, expression seemingly innocent. "My lawyer told me it's called commercial infringement and malicious defamation. The Roberts Group's public apology is still posted on the European Designers Association website. Didn't you see it, Mr. Miller?"
The air instantly quieted.
Several people eavesdropping nearby instinctively stepped back half a pace.
This wasn't greeting—this was publicly exposing wounds, grabbing the most painful spot and pouring salt on it.
Frank's face turned liver-colored. He hadn't expected this seemingly gentle woman to speak so ruthlessly.
"Ms. White has quite a sense of humor." Frank said stiffly.
"I never joke, especially in my professional field." Yasmin's smile vanished, gaze clear and piercing as she looked at him. "Also, a correction. Nico's career didn't just end—I personally buried it. I hope the Roberts Group remembers this lesson. Not all original designers can be bullied at will."