Against fate : rebirth of the stubborn heiress

The tension from the lecture hall drama hadn't fully dispersed when class wrapped up.

Whispers still floated in the air, students sneaking glances at Summer—curiosity, awe, and a hint of fear mixing in their expressions.

Summer, however, remained as unbothered as ever. Her pen spun lazily between her fingers, her aura detached yet dominating.

As soon as the lecturer dismissed them, Rosa appeared at the doorway, waving subtly. "Young Miss, everything's ready. Shall we proceed?"

Summer rose gracefully, adjusting her designer bag over her shoulder. "Yes, let's handle it."

Her heels echoed sharply against the marble floors as she walked down the corridor. Like a queen parting the sea, students stepped aside instinctively.

Conversations died mid-sentence, their owners lowering their eyes as Summer passed—some in admiration, others in sheer intimidation.

Hidden behind one of the pillars, Ciara seethed, her hands trembling from both humiliation and the relentless nagging from her system.

[Warning: Task Failure. Host credibility declining. Penalty imminent unless host initiates a corrective action.]

"Shut up!" Ciara hissed under her breath, glaring daggers at Summer's retreating figure. Her nails dug crescent moons into her palm. "You think you've won, Summer? Enjoy it while it lasts."

Outside, a black Rolls-Royce idled at the curb. Liam, the youngest Bellani brother, leaned against it, sunglasses perched low on his nose, grinning. "Finally. Took you long enough. You stirring chaos again, little sis?"

Summer rolled her eyes. "Chaos finds me. I simply manage it."

With a playful bow, Liam opened the door. "Your royal chariot awaits, Princess."

Once seated, Liam flicked his phone. "By the way, Travis is in berserk mode. Someone tried hacking his research files this morning."

Summer's brows lifted. "Someone really has a death wish."

Liam chuckled. "Yup. He's on lockdown mode now—paranoid as hell. No one within ten IPs is safe."

Her phone chimed—a familiar interface popped up.

[Sham Sham Task Alert: Identify the hacker targeting Travis. Reward: 20% increase in Bellani Pharma shares.]

A grin tugged her lips. "Guess I've got work to do."

"Do we ever get a normal day?" Liam groaned.

"Normal is for boring people," Summer replied, stretching languidly.

Neither noticed the matte black Maybach parked discreetly down the street. Inside sat a man, his gaze sharp, intense, following Summer's every move. Unreadable. Dangerous.

At Bellani Corp, the private elevator whisked them to the top. As the doors slid open, the sterile, futuristic lab came into view—screens flickering with codes, chemical structures, and server maps.

Travis stood in the center, black tactical turtleneck hugging his lean frame, expression colder than liquid nitrogen. His calculating eyes softened marginally upon seeing Summer.

"You're late."

"Had to clean up a mess someone else made," Summer shrugged.

"Someone poked the wrong bear," Liam chimed, leaning against the wall.

Travis flicked a screen, pulling up a hologram of server logs. "Whoever it is, they almost breached the neurogenetic sequence. Almost. But amateurs always leave footprints."

A red pin blinked on a digital map. "Warehouse. South docks. Mafia-controlled zone."

Liam let out a low whistle. "Ballsy."

"Or desperate," Travis corrected, his gaze sharp. "And someone paid them well."

Summer crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "This smells like a system task gone wrong. Ciara's fingerprints might be all over this."

[Optional Task: Infiltrate the warehouse. Obtain the source. Bonus: Unlock confidential database + random artifact.]

Travis stepped forward, placing a hand on her head—his version of a hug. "Be careful. You're the only one that matters to me. I won't hesitate to burn the city down if anything happens to you."

Liam snorted. "Bro, tone it down. You sound like a mob boss."

"Facts are facts," Travis said, eyes not leaving Summer.

"Relax," Summer grinned. "When have you ever seen me lose?"

Later that evening , inside her penthouse office, multiple screens reflected green and red graphs. Summer's fingers danced over the keyboard as she made rapid trades, her portfolio ballooning.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Are you always this reckless, little girl?

Her pulse hitched. She knew that encryption. Her lips curled.

Summer: Who, me? Harmless baby here.

Unknown: Keep tempting fate. See where it leads.

Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, this just got interesting." She leaned back, folding her arms. "Let's play."

Across the city, in a dimly lit penthouse, a man stared at the chat with an amused smirk. His fingers hovered over the screen, but he didn't reply—not yet. Patience was a weapon.

Summer Bellani was no ordinary prey. But she was also no ordinary predator.

Checkmate was a game of patience.

And the game had only just begun.