Chapter : 671

She turned away from the pond, her mind made up. She could not get involved in Isabella’s wild goose chase. She had her own path to walk, her own strength to hone. But from now on, she would be watching her brother. Not with the disdain of an older sister for a failed sibling, but with the cautious, analytical eye of a fellow warrior trying to understand the true nature of a new, unpredictable, and overwhelmingly powerful piece on the board. The drab duckling had somehow become a dragon, and Jothi knew it was long past time she started taking that dragon seriously.

The study was a pressure cooker. The air was thick with a tension so profound it was almost a physical force. The five women of Lloyd’s inner circle—Mei Jing, Tisha, Jasmin, Martha Junior, and Pia—sat around the large oak table, their faces a gallery of confusion, concern, and dawning apprehension. Lloyd had summoned them with an urgency that spoke of a crisis, and the grave, cold expression on his face did nothing to dispel that notion.

He stood before them, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture as rigid and unyielding as a drill sergeant’s. The warm, approachable leader they had come to know was gone, replaced by a man radiating an aura of cold, quiet authority that was more intimidating than any outburst of rage could ever be.

“I have called you here,” he began, his voice a low, level baritone that cut through the silence, “because our house has been compromised. Our trust has been violated. We have a traitor in our midst.”

The statement landed with the force of a physical blow. A collective gasp went through the room. Tisha’s hand flew to her mouth, her cheerful face paling to a ghostly white. Mei Jing’s sharp, intelligent eyes widened in shock, her mind immediately racing to calculate the potential damage. Jasmin and Martha Junior exchanged terrified, bewildered glances. Only Pia remained utterly still, her face a blank, bloodless mask, her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap.

“As you know,” Lloyd continued, his gaze sweeping over them, cold and impersonal, “Project Brine is of vital strategic importance to the future of this house. Its secrets were known only to the people in this room, and to myself. And yet, three days ago, I received confirmed intelligence that a rival consortium, backed by Altamiran gold, has begun construction of their own solar evaporation facility. Their methodology is not just similar to ours; it is identical, down to the most minute, proprietary details.”

He let the damning fact hang in the air, a public indictment. “The leak did not come from outside. It came from within. One of you, a person I trusted, a person I empowered, has sold our future to our most bitter enemies.”

The room was plunged into a horrified, accusing silence. Each woman looked at the others, suspicion and disbelief warring in their eyes. The trust that had bound them together as a team, as a family, was shattering before their very eyes.

“I knew confronting you directly would be pointless,” Lloyd said, his voice dropping even lower. “The guilty party would deny it, and the innocent would be wounded by the accusation. A direct approach would only destroy the morale of this team. So, I chose a different path. I decided to set a trap.”

He began to pace slowly before them, his footsteps the only sound in the tense room. “I told you of a new, even more valuable secret. A project so revolutionary it would make Project Brine seem like a child’s game. A project I called ‘Sunstone.’”

He saw the flicker of recognition in their eyes. The memory of that heady, exciting meeting was still fresh in their minds. The dream of a world without famine, the promise of absolute power.

“Project Sunstone,” Lloyd stated, his voice flat and devoid of all its previous passion, “is a complete and utter fabrication. It does not exist. The alchemical principles are nonsense. The engineering schematics are gibberish. The entire project was a lie, a piece of beautifully crafted bait designed for a single purpose: to identify the leak in our organization.”

The second bombshell was even more devastating than the first. They had been lied to, manipulated by their own leader. But the shock of that deception was quickly eclipsed by the chilling realization of what it meant.

Chapter : 672

“I created a set of false documents,” Lloyd explained, his voice as sharp and cold as a shard of ice. “I made sure you were all aware of their feigned importance and their location. And then, I had the study placed under silent, continuous surveillance. I waited to see which of you would be greedy enough, or desperate enough, to take the bait.”

He stopped his pacing. He was standing directly behind Pia’s chair. The air grew so cold it was almost difficult to breathe. The other four women turned their heads slowly, their gazes, a mixture of horror and dawning comprehension, all zeroing in on the small, quiet woman who now seemed to be shrinking into herself.

Lloyd’s gaze, however, was fixed on a simple, bound ledger that lay on the center of the table. It was the report Ken Park had delivered to him that morning. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and flipped it open to a specific page.

“The trap,” he said, his voice now a quiet, deathly whisper, “was a success.”

He looked up from the ledger, and for the first time since the meeting began, he allowed his gaze to settle on a single person. He looked directly at Pia, and the cold, impersonal authority in his eyes was replaced by something far worse: a look of profound, quiet, and utterly devastating disappointment.

Pia’s world dissolved into a roaring, colorless void. His gaze was a physical weight, crushing the air from her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. There was only the terrible, silent judgment in her lord's eyes.

As if to formalize her sentence, Lloyd began to read from the open ledger on the table, his voice calm and clear, each word a hammer blow against the fragile shell of her composure.

"Asset: Pia. Status: Confirmed traitor."

"Methodology: Covert entry using forged key and cleaning duties as pretext."

"Execution: Successful transcription of targeted intelligence onto a specialized micro-scroll."

"Conclusion: Asset is an amateur, emotionally compromised, but equipped with professional-grade tools. This indicates she is a pawn, not a player."

He finished reading and closed the ledger with a soft, final thud.

The silence that followed was absolute.

And in that silence, Pia broke.

The cold, clinical words from the report echoed in the study, each one a nail being hammered into Pia’s coffin. "Confirmed traitor." "Pawn, not a player." The dispassionate, analytical language of espionage stripped away all her pathetic justifications, leaving only the bare, ugly truth of what she had done.

She felt the eyes of the other women on her, a physical, burning weight. She saw the shock and horror on Tisha’s face, the cold, calculating fury dawning in Mei Jing’s eyes. But worst of all was Jasmin. Her friend. The look on Jasmin’s face was not one of anger, but of a deep, profound, and shattered hurt. It was a look of pure, uncomprehending betrayal, and it was the blow that finally broke Pia’s soul.

A sound, a ragged, ugly sob, tore its way out of her throat. It was the sound of a dam breaking, of a lifetime of fear, guilt, and suppressed misery erupting in a single, catastrophic flood. The carefully constructed mask of the quiet, diligent worker shattered into a million pieces, revealing the terrified, broken girl beneath.

She slid from her chair, collapsing to the floor in a weeping, trembling heap. The room, the table, the accusing faces of her colleagues—it all dissolved into a blurry, tear-streaked nightmare.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed, the words muffled by her hands. “I’m so sorry… I never wanted… I had no choice…”

Lloyd watched her, his expression unreadable. He remained standing, a silent, imposing figure of judgment. He did not offer comfort. He did not offer condemnation. He simply waited, allowing her confession to spill out into the open, a necessary poison being lanced from a festering wound.

“They made me do it,” she sobbed, her body wracked with tremors. “They have my family.”

Mei Jing let out a sharp, cynical hiss. “A classic excuse. Do you take us for fools?”

“Be silent, Mei,” Lloyd commanded, his voice soft but carrying an authority that instantly cut off her protest. He knelt down, not in a gesture of sympathy, but to bring himself to Pia’s level, to ensure he heard every word. “Explain,” he said, his tone still cold, but no longer accusing. It was the voice of an interrogator seeking information. “Who is ‘they’? And what do they have on your family?”