Against the Algorithm

Chapter 66: She Signed in Silence, and the World Shifted

The moment the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, the air shifted. They stepped out into the executive wing of Tencent's top floor, where silence had weight and polished marble gleamed like still water. Suits moved in practiced precision beyond the glass doors at the far end, conversations low and clipped, but every single head turned the moment Yao entered the space.

And Lu Sicheng, with one hand still firmly on the small of her back, felt it all. Every glance. Every second too-long stare. Every unspoken question aimed at the quiet girl at his side, platinum braid brushing the edge of her blazer, hands still tight around her folder, cheeks pink but chin lifted. They didn't need to speak it aloud. She wasn't supposed to be here. But she was. And that was enough to make the territorial crackle across Sicheng's shoulders sharpen, his gaze burning hotter the closer they drew to the glass conference doors.

Kaya, walking two paces ahead in sleek black and grey, said nothing at first—until she caught the subtle tremor in Yao's shoulders, the tension just beginning to creep into her stance. She looked back once and smirked. Just slightly. As if she knew exactly what kind of storm she'd just helped escort into the heart of one of China's largest boardrooms.

That was when Sicheng spoke. Low. Dangerous. Unamused. "You know, it's your own husband's fault." he muttered, eyes narrowing at her as he matched her pace.

Kaya turned her head, arching a brow. "I'm sorry?"

"He kept me in the dark for over a year," he said, voice quiet but laced with heat, "while she was writing about me. Analyzing me. Kazime knew the entire time and decided to filter access like I was a damn security risk."

"You were a security risk," Kaya said calmly. "You still are. She's soft."

"She's mine."

"She's also herself," Kaya replied, deadpan, "and she walked in here on her own feet. So maybe don't act like you're seconds away from mauling someone just for looking at her."

Sicheng didn't back down. "He hid her."

"And you're clearly recovering just fine, you stingy overgrown protective brat." Kaya said without missing a beat, her eyes flicking to his hand—still resting firmly on Yao's lower back.

Lan, walking beside her, gave a soft hum of disapproval. "Sicheng, stop snarling. You're not guarding treasure in a cave."

"She is treasure," he huffed under his breath.

Sheng barked a laugh.

Yao, red-faced and breathless from it all, finally whispered, "He's not going to calm down, is he?"

Kaya, lips twitching faintly, whispered back, "Not for the next decade."

The glass doors of the executive boardroom opened with a near-silent click, and the soft murmur of conversation beyond the threshold immediately quieted. Yao stepped forward. Not quickly. Not boldly. But with measured grace, her movements were precise, deliberate, and composed in the way only someone who had spent her life in silence knew how to walk into power—not with noise, but with presence. The board members of Tencent, all seated along the long mahogany table, turned. Phones were set down. Files closed. The shift in energy was immediate.

Behind her, silent and flanking her with the unshakable weight of a wall no one would dare challenge, stood three of the most formidable names in the country: Lu Wang Lan in a sharp navy suit and heels that echoed like law with each step, Lu Sheng beside her with his quiet, steel-backed calm, and Chen Kaya to her right, sleek, still, and utterly unreadable. And behind them—positioned not in shadow, but just outside the center so he could still watch everything—stood Lu Sicheng. Dark eyes burning. Presence coiled. One hand still resting possessively against the base of Yao's spine.