"Even though they scrubbed it extremely clean, our passive firewall system managed to catch a minuscule error just in time." Helen Lloyd zoomed in on a wave chart displayed on the screen: "There was a data packet that leaked and escaped for roughly 0.3 seconds right before the self-destruct command fully completed."

Julian Sterling narrowed his eyes as he stared at the partially decrypted IP address: "Where did it pinpoint the location?"

"A central office building located right in the most bustling commercial district of Saint Lawrence City." Helen Lloyd typed a few keys, and an image of a towering, glass-paned skyscraper appeared on the screen. She swallowed hard, reporting in a grim, heavy tone: "This entire building... is wholly owned by HJ Capital."

Upon hearing that specific name, Julian Sterling slightly arched an eyebrow. HJ Capital? It was an extremely renowned venture capital fund within the financial sector, yet the true power orchestrating things behind the scenes was a name that was not unfamiliar in the slightest.

Cedric Harrington.

The individual considered to be the most brilliant and highly favored heir of the Harrington family, the beloved nephew of Harold Harrington. In stark contrast to his uncle, Jason Harrington, who perpetually maintained a bland, affable facade, Cedric Harrington was a greedy, arrogant wolf who always meticulously concealed his sharp fangs and vicious claws beneath the polished veneer of a noble aristocrat.

After Ethan Caldwell heard this piece of intelligence, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the desk came to a sudden, quiet halt.

To think they had assumed Gabriel Cole alone was more than enough of a headache. They had never anticipated that the supposed fool they once looked down upon was completely far from ordinary.

"Helen Lloyd." Ethan Caldwell opened his mouth, speaking in a nonchalant tone: "Schedule an appointment. I want to have a formal, official meeting with the highest-ranking executive in charge of HJ Capital sometime this very week."

Helen Lloyd froze in her tracks, the hand holding her pen trembling faintly: "Boss? They... they just sent a threatening email stating their desire to take our lives. To walk directly up and knock on their front door right now, isn’t that..."

"That is precisely why we must go." Ethan Caldwell cut her off, the corners of his lips curving into a chilling, bloodthirsty smile: "Do they genuinely think that throwing out a smokescreen will make me cower and step back? They have been hiding in the shadowy depths for far too long. Let me see for myself if, under the searing light of the sun, their skin and flesh can actually withstand the intense heat."

Buzz... buzz...

Right at that exact moment, the phone resting inside Julian Sterling’s trouser pocket suddenly began to vibrate violently.

He pulled it out to check, and the screen illuminated to display a name that he had absolutely no desire to touch for a very long time: Catherine Sterling.

The mother of Julian Sterling, or to be far more accurate, the biological mother of this specific physical body.

Julian Sterling’s gaze darkened significantly. He did not shy away from Ethan Caldwell, but instead directly answered the call and switched on the speakerphone.

"Hello."

The other end of the line remained dead silent for two whole seconds before the flat, eerily emotionless voice of a high-society woman rang out. There was absolutely not a single ounce of care or maternal affection that a mother would naturally show toward a son she had not seen in a long time.

"Come back home for dinner tonight." Catherine Sterling commanded in a rigid tone that permitted absolutely zero refusal.

Julian Sterling let out a cold laugh, the heavy mockery spreading all the way into the deepest depths of his eyes: "Madam Catherine , you certainly possess an impeccable sense of timing for your phone calls. Forcing someone to come back for dinner at the crack of dawn?"

"If you do not return today..." Catherine Sterling completely ignored his sarcastic remark, her voice droning on with an indescribable, horrifying monotony as if it were pre-programmed: "Then tomorrow, there will no longer be any Sterling family home for you to return to."

Beep... beep... beep...

She decisively hung up the phone without a single word of explanation, entirely devoid of any long-winded chatter.

The atmosphere within the office workspace instantly plunged into a heavy gloom. Julian Sterling tossed the phone onto the desk, narrowing his eyes as he sank into deep calculation.

Ethan Caldwell interlaced his ten fingers together, his profound gaze staring intently at the device resting on the table: "Her reaction was far too quick."

"Exactly." Julian Sterling nodded in full agreement: "The hospital server was crashed less than an hour ago, and our side has not even managed to investigate anyoncrete leads yet, but she instantly called to pressure me into returning home. Unless..."

"Unless she, or perhaps the entire Sterling family, has always known absolutely everything from the very beginning. They are not the insignificant pawns being exploited by CORE..." Ethan Caldwell finished the thought, his final syllable dropping with a crushing weight: "...rather, they are the ones holding the chess pieces."

It appeared that they had severely misjudged the true role of the Sterling family, entirely overlooking that woman who perpetually maintained the deceptive facade of an ignorant, aristocratic lady who blatantly favored her adopted son.

...

At that exact same time, on the uppermost floor of the HJ Capital headquarters.

Inside an office that offered a sweeping, panoramic view of Saint Lawrence City as it gradually bathed in the morning sunlight, a man dressed in a black dress shirt with no necktie was leisurely leaning back against a genuine leather sofa.

The deep shadows radiating from the corner of the room obscured more than half of his face, revealing only a resolute jawline and a pair of lips that were currently curled into a mocking, derisive smile. Directly in front of him sat a massive array of surveillance monitors that had been completely shut down, pitch black.

His assistant, standing a respectful three paces away, bowed his head reverently: "Boss, the other side has completely locked down their network, and the algorithm to erase all traces has been fully completed. Should we proceed with the next phase of the operation?"

The man addressed as "Boss" lightly swirled the blood-red wine in the glass he held, the rippling liquid reflecting a bizarre, eerie light.

"There is no need." He took a slow sip of the wine, his voice laced with a lazy drawl yet carrying an innate, terrifying cruelty: "Prey must know true fear in order to run fast. If you press them too tightly, they will turn around and indiscriminately bite back."

"But if Ethan Caldwell and the Sterling family were to join hands..."

"The Sterling family?" The man burst into boisterous laughter, the chilling sound echoing throughout the expansive, empty room: "A pathetic bunch of useless trash who falsely believe themselves to be intelligent. Just let Ethan Caldwell play around with them."

He tilted his head, his line of sight piercing through the transparent glass barrier, gazing down at the tiny streams of traffic moving like an army of ants in the city below.

"I am only curious about one single thing..." His voice dropped to a low whisper, as though he were murmuring sweet nothings to a beloved lover: "Nineteen whole years have passed. Let us see just what kind of fascinating monster... Test Subject A-01 has ultimately grown into."

The way he spoke made it seem as though he were a seasoned man in his forties or fifties, rather than a young man barely in his thirties.

...

In the afternoon, at the Caldwell family villa.

Even fully knowing that a tangled mess of treacherous traps awaited him, Julian Sterling had absolutely no choice but to head to the Sterling family estate. Catherine Sterling’s threat was far too unambiguous. She had officially laid all her cards on the table.

Julian Sterling stood in front of the grand, full-length mirror inside the walk-in closet, selecting a black silk dress shirt paired with a long, tailored trench coat.

While meticulously adjusting his long trench coat, Julian Sterling accidentally slipped his hand into the pocket, only to feel something remarkably thin and hard. He furrowed his brows in confusion. He had not touched this specific coat for several days now. How could an unfamiliar object have possibly fallen inside?

If he recalled correctly, he had not placed anything into this pocket the last time he wore it either.

And so, Julian Sterling slowly withdrew his hand.

Resting neatly within the palm of his hand was a pitch-black, solid metal card. There was no logo, no brand name, nor was there any embedded microchip or magnetic stripe.

There was only a single, solitary line of text prominently embossed in shimmering, razor-sharp silver ink, stabbing directly into Julian Sterling’s pupils.

[A-01].