The “Top Secret” folder didn’t contain the fourth-generation proposal at all. Instead, it held a set of “bomb” data Grace had specifically written—a program that looked perfect on the surface but would create a logical deadlock under extreme heat.
Whoever used this data would find their product turning into a ticking time bomb during the demonstration.
“Damien,” Grace said, looking at the slowly brightening sky outside, “I used to think that if I just worked hard enough, I could earn fairness. But I’ve learned that kindness is useless against wicked people.”
“I know.” Damien wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “So, hand me the sword. I’ll deliver the blow.”
“No.”
Grace held his hands, which were resting on her waist, her gaze firm. “This time, I want to do it myself. I want everyone to see that Grace isn’t some doormat anyone can walk all over.”
Two days later, at the bidding conference for the national new energy storage project.
As a major national project, the event was attended not only by industry leaders but also by numerous media reporters.
Amelia was dressed in a white pantsuit, her makeup flawless, looking like a proud swan.
She was surrounded by a crowd of flatterers, among them the long-unseen Ethan.
“Miss Cross seems to have come fully prepared this time. She’s clearly determined to win.”
Ethan held a glass of wine, but his eyes couldn’t help but search the crowd.
When he saw Grace enter on Damien’s arm, his grip on the glass tightened.
Grace looked beautiful today.

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