Callista's POV
It's exam time.
Time to let my GPA crash and burn—thanks to my oh-so-sweet fiancé.
I did not study. Not one bit.
Yes, I'm smart. Yes, I've studied in advance. But Computer Science is a beast that doesn't care about your IQ when your brain's been running on two hours of sleep and ten cups of caffeine.
So yeah... I'm doomed.
As I marched through the campus corridor, my earbuds were in, but nothing was playing. My mind was racing. The hall echoed with the typical morning chaos—footsteps, clatter, nervous giggles, muttered formulas. My peers had their textbooks in hand, their pens ready, and here I was—mentally reciting sarcastic prayers to the luck fairy.
"Please, bless me with a miracle or at least a multiple choice section."
But even with that chaos, my thoughts kept circling back to that symbol.
The one from the USB.
The one my father sent me.
A symbol representing a criminal organization steeped in every dark thing imaginable—drugs, kidnapping, slavery, murder. The information I uncovered last night made my skin crawl. The deeper I dug, the more sickening it became.
But here's the part that really messes with me...
Why did my father send me that?
It wasn't a warning. It wasn't an accident.
No, he was deliberate. Calculated.
That man doesn't lift a finger without a motive.
Was he trying to tell me something?
Could he be involved?
No. No way. Right?
But then again...
The Valemont estate.
The sheer level of wealth. Power. Secrecy.
It wasn't just rich—it was untouchable. Like an empire hiding in plain sight.
My father didn't tell me everything, and for the first time... I'm starting to think he's trying to protect me, not control me.
If this symbol connects to them, and if my fiancé knows more than he's letting on, then I'm already too deep in this mess.
Too deep to crawl back out.
I shook my head and stepped into the exam hall, greeted by fluorescent lights and that weird sterile smell that all testing rooms seem to have. Rows of desks. Quiet murmurs. Proctors eyeing students like hawks.
I walked to my seat, ignoring the girl next to me who was frantically flipping through her handwritten notes.
I placed my bag under my chair and took out my pencil case. My hand brushed the corner of my phone in my pocket. I pulled it out one last time, checked for messages. Nothing.
No updates from Aurelius.
No warnings from my father.
Just silence.
The kind that crawls under your skin.
"Phones away," the proctor said sternly.
I shoved it in my bag and let out a breath.
Okay, Callista. Focus. This is just an exam.
You've survived worse.
Hell, you're currently surviving worse.
The test papers were passed down row by row, landing in front of me like a ticking time bomb. I stared at the cover page:
Advanced Algorithms & Systems Design.
Of course.
The fun kind.
I flipped it open and picked up my pen.
Let's just hope I don't write 'HELP' in binary across the margins.
I stared down at the first question, my mind already blanking. The letters on the paper seemed to swirl into a chaotic blur, and for a second, I thought I might actually have a panic attack right here in the exam room.
No. I couldn't let myself lose it now.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the pencil in my hand. One question at a time. I had to focus.
Question One: Write a function that implements Dijkstra's algorithm for shortest path. Include a time complexity analysis.
I looked at the problem and let out a breath of relief. This was something I knew. I could do this. Sure, I hadn't studied, but I had studied for this before, back when I had time—before my life spiraled into... whatever the hell this mess was.
I wrote down the function, my hand moving fluidly across the paper. The next few questions weren't so bad either—data structures, recursion, algorithm optimization. I solved them the way I always did: one by one, applying the logic like I was assembling a puzzle. Each click of the puzzle pieces brought a little more confidence.
By the time I hit question six, though, my focus began to slip again. My thoughts started drifting back to thesymbol, the USB, the files I had been poring over late last night, the conversations with Aurelius.
The terror in his eyes when I mentioned the symbol.
His tone, colder than I had ever heard it, when I asked him about it.
I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts aside. No, I couldn't afford to get distracted. Not here. Not now.
The proctor paced the aisles, casting glances over everyone, making sure we were all following the rules. But the rules felt so irrelevant to me right now. What was the point of an exam when your world was falling apart?
I sighed and moved on to the next question—something about memory management and stack overflows. The clock ticked on.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The hours dragged. The questions got harder. I found myself falling into a rhythm, moving through each problem with more confidence than I had any right to have. I caught myself leaning into the answers, as if the exam itself was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.
But still, that nagging feeling crept back in.
Where was Aurora?
What was really happening with her?
Was she still alive?
I had no answers, only fragments. I was getting closer, that much I knew. The pieces were starting to fit together, but the picture they formed wasn't one I was sure I wanted to see.
When I finished the exam, I dropped my pencil onto the desk, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion flood over me. I rubbed my eyes, feeling the dark circles beneath them weigh like lead.
"Time's up," the proctor said, and the finality of those words felt like a cold slap.
I looked down at the exam paper. I had completed it. I had done my best. Whatever the outcome was, there was no turning back now.
I stood up, grabbed my bag, and filed out of the room with the rest of the students, my mind still reeling from the events of the last few days. My heart was heavy, my thoughts distant.
The sun was starting to rise outside, casting a soft golden glow over the campus as I made my way to the exit. But that golden light didn't bring warmth to me—not today.
Today, it felt like an omen.
I grabbed my phone and opened our group chat—Xavier, Phelia, and Simon—my closest friends since the first day I set foot in college. The people who kept me sane during project hell, sleepless coding nights, and cafeteria meltdowns. They didn't know everything about my current mess. Not yet.
I typed quickly:
Me: "Come meet me at our favorite café. Bring your laptops. We're going to have fun. I have something to tell you."
I hit send and watched the little "read" indicators light up one by one.
Simon: "Fun? That word doesn't exist during midterms."
Phelia: "She's being cryptic again… I'm in. I need coffee and gossip."
Xavier: "If it's not another secret coding competition, I'm down. On my way."
I let out a small smile. For a moment, it felt like a pocket of normalcy.
They had no idea I was engaged. No clue my so-called fiancé was AureliusValemont—yes, that Valemont. The heir to a fortress disguised as a family. Or that I was knee-deep in an investigation involving a missing girl, a criminal syndicate, and a USB that could probably put me on a hit list.
Nope. As far as they knew, I was just another stressed-out Computer Science major with a caffeine addiction and questionable sleep habits.
I took a deep breath, stuffing my exam sheet into my bag. Let's see how long I can keep it that way.
A few hours later, I was at Cute Kittens Café, waiting for them at our usual table near the window. My cousin owned this place—yes, a full-blown cat lover with zero shame about it. Right on the front door, there was a hand-painted wooden sign that read:
"No kittens, no premium service. House rules."
Quirky, dramatic, very Caleb.
I had my own kitten, Oliver, nestled on my lap. His soft purring almost calmed my nerves. Caleb spotted me from behind the counter and gave me a small wave, flashing his signature smile—the one that could probably melt half the internet.
I smiled back. Caleb was my mom's twin sister's son—basically my ride-or-die since we were kids. This café wasn't just a cozy haven for cat lovers... beneath it was our real playground: a high-tech underground base. Hacking, surveillance, tracking dirty money, wiping shady records—we did it all. Not for fun (okay, sometimes for fun), but mostly for clients who paid us serious money. Enough to fund three start-ups and an army of kittens, no joke.
The waiters and cat caretakers here? Not your average part-timers. These were his friends, most of them literal celebrities, models, influencers—people who walked red carpets by night and served lattes by day. Didn't even faze me anymore. Caleb had more connections than a central server.
And the premium quality service? Oh, it was real. If you brought a cat—even a grumpy one—the staff would spoil both you and your feline like royalty. Organic salmon bites, velvet pet beds, imported milk foam for lattes. No cat, no royal treatment. Phelia absolutely lived for it.
I adjusted Oliver on my lap, feeling his soft tail curl around my wrist. I tapped my fingers on the table, glancing toward the entrance, waiting for the others.
Soon, it was showtime.
My friends arrived right on cue, cats and kittens in tow. Xavier had his fluffy Siberian named Zuko, Phelia came with her diva Persian, Princess Boo, and Simon brought his hyper tabby twins, Crispy and Toast. Just seeing them earned us the instant VIP treatment—premium-grade everything.
We sat down at our table, the staff swarming with smiles and trays full of ridiculously fancy snacks—for both humans and felines. I took a deep breath, bracing myself.
"Guys," I said, voice low but firm, "I need to confess something."
Phelia leaned forward like I was about to spill a royal scandal. "Spill."
"I'm… engaged."
Silence.
Then came the screech. "WHAT?!" Phelia's shriek practically shook the cat trees. Even Princess Boo jumped.
She clutched her chest dramatically like I just told her I stole her lifelong dream. "I've been single all my life and you've been hiding a fiancé? This is betrayal!"
"I didn't exactly plan it," I muttered, stirring my overpriced latte. "It's complicated."
"Who is he?" Xavier asked, more curious than shocked.
So I told them. Everything. About Aurelius, the whole twisted fairytale, the Valemont legacy, and especially about Aurora's disappearance.
Phelia sniffled as she spooned crème brûlée for her cat, but perked up the moment her favorite pop star-slash-cat caretaker winked at her. She practically melted in her seat. "Okay, this café really is heaven," she whispered like she just saw God.
We played with our cats for a while, mingling with other customers, laughing, pretending everything was normal… But really, we were all waiting.
Because once the clock struck 12, playtime ended.
The celebrities? The smiling servers and flawless waitresses? Yeah, they weren't just eye candy. These people were trained. Some were spies, some hackers, others assassins—and all of them were deeply involved in our case.
The truth is, we're not just college kids with cats and caffeine addictions.
We're undercover.
We work under my mother's command, and Caleb's mom—my aunt—is her second-in-command. My dad? Still a mystery. A powerful man who knows too much but says too little.
And these so-called celebrities?
They're our field operatives. The ones who make the headlines by day and erase criminals by night.
And tonight? It's more than just a midnight mission.
It's PhaseOne of Rescue the Perishing.
We locked up the café and secured every door, window, and secret surveillance channel. No prying eyes. No unwanted ears. Caleb did a full sweep with his fancy scanner while his celeb friends casually posed for "selfies" outside—really, they were scanning everyone within a five-block radius.
I peeked through the window.
Still crowded. Of course it was. Midnight in the heart of the city always buzzed like it was noon. Couples, loners, influencers with ring lights, and street musicians doing questionable beatboxing… all the usual.
Xavier and I played casual and stepped outside to scan the perimeter. He held Zuko like a bodyguard carried a briefcase, scanning faces like we were undercover detectives in a spy movie. "See that guy in the trench coat?" he murmured. "He's been checking his phone every ten seconds but hasn't made a call."
I nodded subtly. "Clocked him five minutes ago. Might just be cold. Or a watcher."
Meanwhile, Phelia and Simon were back inside, dealing with the real battlefield.
"I swear Princess Boo poops glitter," Phelia gagged.
Simon muttered something about "biohazard pay" as he scooped after his tabby twins. Clearly, not every part of secret agent life was glamorous.
Then, 12:30 AM struck.
We gathered. Every one of us still holding our cats—because yes, even secret agents need their emotional support animals. But truth is, theseweren't ordinary cats. They were trained since kittenhood—loyal, intuitive, and equipped with high-tech collars that could record, analyze, and transmit data on command.
With a soft beep, the entrance to the underground base opened behind the faux fireplace. One by one, we slipped through the hidden door beneath the floorboards, down the spiral metal stairs, into the dimly lit hall of monitors and war-room vibes.
At the center of it all?
My mother—elegant, composed, her sharp eyes scanning the holoscreen.
And beside her, AuntVivian, just as fierce, just as powerful.
Around them stood the higher-ups. The real ones. Agents, analysts, even one or two people who looked like they came out of an actual sci-fi film.
My mother turned to me. "Report."
I nodded and stepped forward.
"I found the symbol. It's not just a brand—it's a signature of a criminalsyndicate. Trafficking. Drugs. Kidnapping. Underground weapons. Their fingers are in everything."
The room went still.
"I also got a message from Dad." I hesitated. "He sent me that symbol himself."
That raised brows.
"I'm not saying he's involved," I continued quickly, "but maybe… he wants us to know something without saying it directly. Maybe there's a connection between him and the Valemonts. Something we're not seeing."
"Go on," Aunt Vivian urged.
I took a breath. "Aurora Valemont. Still missing. Three days. But from what we gathered, there's movement around estates linked to the Valemonts. I don't think her disappearance was a coincidence. I think someone in her own circle orchestrated it."
"And the estate?" Mom asked.
I glanced at the map on the screen. "Too well-guarded. It's like a fortress pretending to be a palace. That's no home—it's a stronghold."
A few agents murmured in agreement. Data scrolled rapidly on the monitors.
"We need to dig deeper," I finished. "Into Victor Valemont. Into my father. Into the organization behind that symbol. Because if they're all linked…"
I let the sentence hang.
Then we're running out of time.
As soon as the meeting ended and the tension started to die down, the underground base turned into a whole different vibe. Monitors dimmed, coffee cups reappeared, and—of course—the "celebrities" began dropping their serious agent masks and reverting to their usual dramatic selves.
And just like that, the flirting started.
First, it was Kai, the nation's most beloved actor, brushing his hair back and leaning just a bit too close.
"So... Callista," he purred, "you ever consider working in film? I could direct you personally. Candlelight, soft piano music, just us and your—very cute—cat?"
I blinked. "Are you trying to make a cat commercial?"
He froze, utterly disarmed. "Uh... yeah. Totally."
Then came Leo, the idol heartthrob with fans across twelve countries, who casually handed me a smoothie and winked. "Vitamin C. For future mothers-in-law."
I handed it right back. "Thanks. My mom's more into green juice."
Leo looked like he took psychic damage.
Then River—River, the literal cover model of six fashion magazines—walked by and dropped his phone in front of me. "Oops. Can you pick that up for me?"
I did. "You should get a stronger case. Dropping it like that could damage the circuits."
He stared. "I—I meant—"
"I know. You're welcome."
Across the room, Phelia was screaming silently, clutching her chest like she was watching a K-drama betrayal scene unfold in 4K.
"CALLISTAAA!" she wailed. "How dare you reject THEM! My soulmate could be one of them, and here you are—just deflecting their advances like they were lost Uber Eats drivers!"
I frowned. "What do you mean? They were just being weird. I think Kai might be sleep-deprived."
"YOU'RE SLEEP-DEPRIVED—OF LOVE!"
Simon and Xavier burst out laughing.
Phelia threw herself dramatically into a bean bag chair, groaning like she'd been stabbed in the heart.
"You did this before," she hissed. "Before you were engaged. You accidentally rejected every single guy I dream about. If they don't want me, at least you could've shared the fantasy!"
I blinked. "I didn't know I had that effect."
"OF COURSE YOU DON'T!"
She flipped dramatically onto her side and muttered, "Betrayal. Pain. Darkness…"
I reached for a cookie on the snack table. "I mean, you can have the smoothie Leo gave me."
Her head shot up. "Forgiven."
And with that, chaos resumed in the base. Laughter, meows, the sound of hacking keyboards, and the echo of one very dramatic Phelia crying over her 101 fictional heartbreaks.
But as I glanced at the glowing map still on the holoscreen, my smile faded.
Because somewhere out there…
Aurora was still waiting to be found.
End of Chapter 11.