Chapter 3 — Corporate Crossfire
Third Person
The conference hall was a cathedral of corporate ambition, its vaulted ceiling adorned with a lattice of gleaming chrome and glass. Spotlights traced calculated arcs over the expansive stage, illuminating a panel of industry titans seated behind a sleek, curved table. Rows of attendees filled the room, their murmurs buzzing like static electricity. The faint scent of coffee, polished wood, and the sterile tang of expensive electronics hung in the air.
Vivienne Laurent sat poised at the center of the panel, her tailored charcoal suit a study in precision, the faint sheen on its fabric catching the stage lights. Her expression was a mask of calm control, but her sharp gray eyes missed nothing. To her left, a handful of executives shifted nervously as they glanced at her. To her right was Declan Hayes, leaning back in his seat with a disarming grin that seemed almost lazy—if not for the predatory glint in his hazel eyes.
The moderator, a polished woman with a practiced smile, adjusted her microphone and addressed the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Future of AI Summit. Today, we’re privileged to hear from the brightest minds shaping the industry’s future. Let’s dive right in. Ms. Laurent, Mr. Hayes, as two of the foremost leaders in AI innovation, your companies have been at the forefront of recent developments. How do you see the role of AI evolving in the next decade?”
Vivienne leaned forward, her movements deliberate and precise. She spoke with the measured cadence of a metronome, each word weighted and intentional. “The future of AI lies in its ability to enhance human capability without compromising ethical boundaries. At Laurent Industries, we are committed to creating systems that prioritize transparency and accountability, ensuring that innovation aligns with the greater good. This is not just a vision—it is a responsibility.”
There was a smattering of applause. Vivienne’s gaze swept the room, noting the approving nods from key industry players. When her eyes flickered briefly to Declan, she caught the faintest twitch of a smirk on his lips.
“And yet,” Declan interjected smoothly, his voice warm and rich, carrying a cadence that immediately drew attention, “transparency and accountability are often buzzwords thrown around to mask the real challenges. At Hayes Co., we focus on practical solutions—tools that drive real-world impact, even in the face of uncertainty. Innovation, after all, thrives on risk.”
The audience murmured, caught between the sharp contrast in their approaches. Vivienne’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. She turned her attention to him, her tone cool but laced with an edge. “Risk without foresight, Mr. Hayes, is recklessness. And recklessness, as history has shown, often leads to unintended consequences. Innovation must be guided by discipline and accountability.”
Declan’s grin widened as if her rebuke had been a compliment. “Discipline is commendable, Ms. Laurent, but too much of it can stifle creativity. Sometimes, the greatest breakthroughs come from letting go of control.”
The tension between them crackled like a live wire, drawing the audience in. Even the other panelists seemed to fade into the background, their presence overshadowed by the charged dynamic unfolding at the center of the stage.
The moderator interjected with a practiced laugh, attempting to regain control. “It’s clear we have two very distinct philosophies represented here, but perhaps that diversity is exactly what drives innovation.”
Vivienne’s hand brushed the Obsidian Moon Pendant beneath her blouse, grounding herself with its smooth surface as she prepared to respond. The pendant’s faint warmth steadied her, a quiet reminder of the control she fought to maintain. But before she could speak, a low hum reverberated through the room, so faint at first that it seemed like a trick of the mind.
The lights overhead flickered, and the massive screen behind the panelists glitched, its polished promotional video dissolving into static. A murmur of confusion rippled through the audience. Vivienne’s spine straightened, her senses sharpening instinctively. The hum deepened into a vibration, and a subtle prickling sensation crawled up her neck—a warning her human colleagues wouldn’t notice.
Declan’s grin faltered, his gaze flicking around the room. His easy charm seemed to slip for a fraction of a second, replaced by something harder, more focused. For the briefest moment, his expression was unreadable, his instincts on high alert.
The moderator tapped her microphone, her voice strained but calm. “It seems we’re experiencing a minor technical difficulty. Please bear with us while we resolve the issue.”
The hum grew louder, a sound that seemed to resonate just beneath the range of normal hearing. Vivienne’s teeth clenched as a faint ache throbbed at the base of her skull. It wasn’t just a technical issue. This was deliberate.
Her gaze darted to Declan, who was now sitting upright, his posture tense. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. They both knew this wasn’t a coincidence.
The lights flickered again, then cut out entirely, plunging the room into darkness. Gasps and startled exclamations filled the air, followed by the rustling of movement as attendees fumbled for their phones or reached for one another in the confusion.
Vivienne’s heightened senses kicked in, piercing through the blackness. The faint outlines of the room came into focus, and her ears picked up the frantic tapping of keyboards from the technicians scrambling backstage. She resisted the primal urge to shift—to let her wolf’s instincts take over. Not here. Not now.
A hand brushed her arm, and she flinched, whirling to find Declan standing closer than she’d expected. His silhouette was barely visible, but she could feel the heat of his presence, the sharpness of his attention.
“Stay calm,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Whoever’s behind this wants chaos. Don’t give it to them.”
“I am calm,” she replied, her tone clipped. “You, however, seem far too comfortable in the dark, Mr. Hayes.”
A soft chuckle escaped him, even now. “Years of practice. But let’s focus on the matter at hand. This hum—it’s targeted, isn’t it?”
Vivienne hesitated, the weight of her secret pressing against her ribs. “It’s… unusual,” she conceded. “Not a typical malfunction. And this hum—”
“—is designed to unsettle,” Declan finished, his voice tightening. For a moment, his hunter instincts flared, the sharpness of his focus betraying his polished exterior.
The lights flickered back on, flooding the room with an almost blinding brightness. The audience groaned and shielded their eyes, but the screen behind the panel remained a chaotic mess of static and distorted images.
Vivienne’s assistant, Izzy, appeared at the edge of the stage, her face pale but determined. She gestured discreetly, signaling that something urgent required Vivienne’s attention.
Declan noticed, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Looks like your team has news,” he said.
Vivienne rose smoothly, her expression unreadable. “Excuse me,” she said to the audience, her voice carrying authority despite the disruption. She swept off the stage, heels clicking sharply against the polished floor.
Declan lingered for a moment, then followed, his curiosity outweighing his respect for boundaries.
Backstage, Izzy was speaking in rapid, hushed tones to Marcus Adler, whose perpetually disheveled appearance seemed even more frazzled than usual.
“The breach wasn’t just technical,” Marcus was saying, his tone grim. “It was deliberate. Someone accessed the system remotely, targeting the event feed and sound frequencies. This wasn’t amateur work. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing—and they wanted to cause more than just chaos.”
Vivienne’s jaw tightened. “Can you trace it?”
Marcus hesitated. “Maybe. But it’ll take time. There’s a lot of obfuscation in the code—like they were trying to leave no digital trail. This wasn’t just some hacker looking for attention.”
Declan’s voice cut through the tension. “Sounds like someone’s trying to send a message.”
Marcus glanced at him, then at Vivienne, his brow furrowing. “And who invited him backstage?”
Vivienne ignored the question, her piercing gray eyes fixed on Declan. “You seem remarkably unconcerned, Mr. Hayes.”
He shrugged, his roguish smile returning. “Concerned, yes. Surprised? Not really. This is what happens when you make waves in a cutthroat industry. The bigger the fish, the sharper the harpoons.”
Vivienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “If you’re finished philosophizing, I suggest you focus on your own company. This could just as easily be a warning for you.”
Declan’s smile faded, his expression growing serious. “Maybe. But if it’s a shared threat, we’re going to need to keep an eye on each other.”
Vivienne arched a brow. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between them feel charged. “But maybe an ally.”
The word hung in the air, heavy with implications. Vivienne’s gaze lingered on him for a fraction longer than necessary before she turned to Marcus.
“Find the source,” she ordered. “And tighten our security protocols. I want answers before this happens again.”
Marcus nodded, already pulling out his tablet and muttering under his breath about firewalls and encryption.
Declan stepped aside as Vivienne strode past him, her heels echoing down the corridor. He watched her go, a flicker of admiration mingling with his growing curiosity.
Whatever storm had just been unleashed, it was clear they were both in its path.
