Hannah’s lips tightened, as if to say thank you, but words eluded her.


    “I get it, Mr.


    Campbell,” she murmured.


    Leaving behind the medicine and data, she stepped out of the research institute.


    Once she was outside, she nced at her phone and noticed a bunch of unread messages.


    Several came from the DarkLink app.


    [Odds for tomorrow’s big event just dropped.


    The duo is at 26:1.


    Group odds are even steeper, 40:1.


    This Cyril Holmes guy is a juggernaut.


    He hasn’t lost recently.


    ]


    Swiftly, Hannah typed her reply.


    [Put me in Cyril’s group and bet 100 million on me winning.


    Do it under your name.


    Also, set up a car for me.


    Needs to have a spoiler and be drift-friendly.


    Keep it light.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ]


    A ok emoji was quickly sent in reply.


    ‘s BunnyBookery


    [You sure you’ll win, boss? If you’re that certain, I might bet too.


    Could win 2 billion with those odds!]


    A slight grin crept onto Hannah’s face as she texted back.


    [If you’re not scared of losing your initial investment, go ahead and ce your bet.


    ]


    Feeling upbeat, she logged off from the DarkLink app.


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    The remaining unread messages were merely notifications about the uingpetition, its venue, and its schedule.


    Upon opening WhatsApp, she saw a recent message from Bryson.


    A high-end jewelry brand is debuting its new collection on a ferry at month’s end.


    Bryson’s text was an invitation for her to apany him.


    Hannah’s fingers lingered above her phone’s screen.


    After a moment’s pause, she opted not to respond to Bryson and slid her phone back into her pocket.


    She roamed around for the rest of the day, not heading back to hermunity until the sky had turned entirely dark.


    Rummaging through her bag for themunity ess card, Hannah was interrupted by a sudden appearance in front of her.


    Without thinking, she stepped back and looked up, finding Bryson in her view, which made her momentarily stiffen.


    Bryson sported a ck T-shirt instead of his usual tailored suit, his unkempt bangs framing his face, giving him an air of detachment under the moonlit sky.


    “You’re out prettyte,” he said, his voice tinged with iciness.