CHAPTER 31: PRS 31

At two in the morning, Isabella Clark woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. "Ah, without the Phoenix System, it feels so lonely. I’m not used to this kind of silence," she muttered softly, staring at the ceiling of her apartment in The Imperial Residences Complex. The cold air from the air conditioner made her skin shiver, but her mind was too noisy to fall back asleep.

Remembering the message Alesio Xander had sent her earlier that afternoon, Isabella immediately got up, grabbed the laptop on her desk, and turned it on. Her slender fingers began to dance quickly across the keyboard, while her eyes focused on the rows of numbers and codes that appeared one after another. She was trying to penetrate the dark web’s security system.

"As I thought, these codes aren’t random... they’re ciphers. They’re the identities of their members. They use quite complex, layered encryption," she muttered as she continued typing rapidly.

As time went on, her hand movements became more agile. Her eyes rarely blinked, afraid of missing a crucial moment. The network she was penetrating was no ordinary one—it was an international mafia network, with a multi-layered defense system that was nearly impossible to penetrate. But for Isabella, a talented twenty-two-year-old hacker, this was nothing more than a challenge.

An hour, two hours, three hours passed. The sun slowly filtered through the window blinds as she finally managed to open one last digital door. "Got you..." she whispered, her lips curling into a thin line.

Looking at the data appearing on the screen, Isabella frowned deeply. "What exactly did Alesio do to become an enemy of this group? This doesn’t make sense. The Xander family shouldn’t have any connection to them," she asked softly.

She turned on her phone camera, took a photo of some of the information, and then typed a message.

"I’ve got some of the data you requested. I’ve sent it via email. But for full access, I need additional funds. Their system is more complex than I thought. Their firewall is multi-layered."

A few minutes later, Alesio Xander, sitting in his office at Lulaas Corporation, read the message. His brow furrowed deeply. "Mafia Rose evil? Why is this name coming up again?" he muttered with a tense expression.

Although he had heard the name, his family had never had any contact with them. "Why are they targeting me? What do they want? Does it have something to do with the company’s latest project?" he thought angrily.

Without hesitation, Alesio immediately transferred three billion to Isabella’s account.

"Is that enough? If not, let me know. I’ll transfer more as soon as possible," he wrote quickly.

Five minutes, ten minutes, no reply. The message hadn’t even been read. Alesio began to worry. "Did I send too little? Or is there a problem with the transfer?" he hissed.

He pressed the call button, unconsciously selecting a video call. Instantly, Isabella’s beautiful face appeared on the screen—making Alesio jump in surprise, his chair moving back and nearly falling over.

"Hello, Mr. Alesio? What’s wrong? Why are you so panicked? Did something urgent happen?" Isabella asked worriedly.

Alesio quickly got up, straightened his wrinkled jacket, and grabbed his phone. "Nothing, I just... tripped over the table leg. Sorry, it’s so embarrassing," he lied with an awkward smile.

Isabella chuckled. "I see. I thought there was something serious. So, why are you calling so early, and—" her eyes narrowed—"using a video call? Don’t we usually just text?"

Her tone was casual but sharp. Alesio quickly replied, "It’s about the data you sent. There are a few things I’d like to ask. Some information needs direct clarification."

Isabella’s tone immediately softened. "Okay. What part do you want to know? I can explain now if it’s urgent," she asked, standing up. She placed her phone near the potted plant and walked to the wardrobe.

As she answered Alesio’s question, she changed into her neat work clothes—unaware that the phone’s camera caught her reflection in the mirror behind her. For a moment, Alesio caught a glimpse of Isabella’s reflection in the mirror. His eyes widened, his blood rushing. He tried to maintain a professional expression on his face, but his voice sounded tense.

"Yes... I understand. So the file shows that... they monitored Bank N’s transactions? That’s quite dangerous if they have access to banking data," he said, stammering.

Isabella turned her head, oblivious to Alesio’s reaction. "That’s right. Their transactions are always disguised with double-digit codes. It’ll take me a few more hours to crack everything. Their system is more sophisticated than I initially thought," she said casually, smoothing her hair.

"Okay, I’ll wait. No need to rush, the important thing is accuracy," Alesio replied quickly, trying to avert his gaze.

Isabella then took out her phone. "When the additional data is ready, I’ll send it directly to your email. It should probably all be finished this afternoon," she said politely.

Alesio nodded immediately. "Thank you. Be careful, Isabella. Don’t let them find out."

As soon as the call ended, Alesio covered his face with his hands. "Oh my god... what’s happening to me? Why am I so distracted? This isn’t professional at all," he muttered. He stood up and walked to the bathroom to wash his face.

"Stop those stupid thoughts, Alesio. Focus! She’s just your colleague," he said, looking into the mirror. But Isabella’s image kept dancing in his mind—her faint smile, her focused gaze while working.

That day, Alesio couldn’t focus at all at work. Every time he looked at the screen, Isabella’s reflection seemed to stare back.

Meanwhile, far away in City XX, Isabella was sitting relaxed in the campus cafe where graduate students gathered. She had just finished her morning lecture and was having a light discussion with her new friend, Siva.

"Do you think political influence can have such a significant impact on the national economy? I mean, how big an impact will it have on foreign investment?" Siva asked, sipping her coffee.

"Of course," Isabella replied calmly. "When policies change, investment flows change too. The economy is like a network—vulnerable but interconnected. One policy can trigger a domino effect across all sectors."

Siva stared in awe. "You speak like a professional economist, even though you majored in information technology. I’m increasingly convinced you’re a multi-talented genius."

Isabella smiled slightly. "I just like analyzing patterns. Politics and economics have the same pattern—both can be manipulated if you know their weaknesses. Everything can be predicted if we understand the pattern well."

Siva chuckled. "You’re dangerous, Bela. I’m starting to be afraid of being friends with you. It seems like you could rule the world if you wanted to."

"Don’t worry," Isabella replied casually. "I’m only dangerous to people with bad intentions. As friends, I’m always a good person."

The two of them chuckled before returning to their serious discussion.

Meanwhile, at the Royal Scott Bakery, owned by the Scott family, things were busy as usual. In the adjacent stationery shop, Siva was distributing new uniforms to Isabella’s employees.

"Sis Siva, is this our uniform? It looks really branded!" asked Nadin, one of the employees, her eyes wide as she held a shirt labeled IC Maria.

Siva smiled. "Yes, it’s from IC Maria. A limited edition design. The boss ordered a special collection just for you."

The employees immediately looked at each other in disbelief. "Oh my gosh, this costs millions! I saw it in the online catalog yesterday!" Lisa exclaimed, almost screaming. She even immediately contacted her friend who worked at the IC Maria boutique in the shopping center.

"Hey, look, my boss gave me a uniform from your brand! The new collection!" Lisa wrote quickly.

A few minutes later, a reply came.

"Seriously? That’s our new collection! It’s so expensive! You could buy a motorcycle for it!"

Lisa swallowed, her face a mixture of awe and disbelief. "My boss is amazing... who else would give such expensive uniforms to stationery store employees? He’s really not messing around," she said to her colleagues.

Nadin chimed in, "Our boss is really different. She’s not only beautiful, but also kind-hearted. I’ve never worked with someone as rich and kind as her."

Suddenly, one of the male employees showed a photo on his phone. "Hey, isn’t this our boss? Someone uploaded a photo of her shopping at the mall. They said she was really friendly with everyone."

They all stared at the screen. In the photo, Isabella was wearing a simple but elegant dress, walking casually and smiling kindly at the boutique employees.

"Oh my God, that’s her," Lisa said, her eyes sparkling. "Our boss’s name is Isabella Clark. She’s young, beautiful, and super generous. We’re so lucky to work with her."

Lisa’s friend on the phone added, "She comes here often. She always brings us snacks, and she’s never arrogant. So different from other customers who are mean."

Siva smiled overhearing the conversation from the cashier. She knew Isabella was just like that—firm but sincere, rich but never condescending.

"No wonder everyone loves working under him," Nadin said in admiration.

"And we have to do better so we don’t disappoint him. He’s been too good to us," Lisa added, hugging her new uniform.

On the other hand, Isabella, who had just left campus, smiled as she read Siva’s message:

"They’re all so happy, Bella. They say you’re the best boss in the world. They even took pictures of their uniforms."

Isabella typed her reply as she walked to her brand-new Mercedes-Benz.

"You know, Siva... I just want them to be happy. The world is so cold, at least I can warm a small part of it. They deserve the best."

Siva read the reply and smiled with emotion. He knew that, despite her apparent calm, Isabella’s heart still held old wounds—betrayal, loss, and the journey that had made her the strong figure she was known to be today.

And elsewhere, Alesio Xander, staring at his laptop screen in his office, re-opened Isabella’s photo displayed on the screen—a snapshot from the video call earlier that morning. His lips lifted slightly.

"I don’t know who you really are, Isabella Clark," he murmured, "but somehow... my heart is starting to melt."