My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 25

Chapter 25: The game

"You want a hacker?" Ethan asked, pausing mid-chew on his burger. We were in the dining hall, Darius sitting at the end of the table like a stone gargoyle, silently eating three grilled chicken breasts.

"I don’t want a script kiddie," I said, lowering my voice. "I need someone who can find things that aren’t on Google. Dean Vance gave me a target, and if I go in blind, I’m dead."

Ethan wiped his mouth. "Okay. You want Nia. But good luck finding her. She basically lives in the server tunnels."

"Nia?"

"Nia Patel. Junior. CS major. Rumor has it she hacked the registrar’s office last year just to change her schedule because she hates 8 AMs. She didn’t get caught."

"Where do I find her?"

Ethan pointed a fry toward the engineering building. "Basement. Lab 4. Look for the girl wearing noise-canceling headphones who looks like she hasn’t slept since 2019."

...

Lab 4 was freezing. The hum of servers was louder than the ventilation.

I found her in the back corner. She was surrounded by three monitors, typing at a speed that didn’t look human. She wore an oversized hoodie and massive headphones, her face illuminated by the blue glow of code scrolling down the screen.

I walked up behind her. Darius stayed at the door, crossing his arms.

"Nia," I said.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t turn. She just held up a hand, typed one final command, and hit enter.

"If you’re here to ask me to fix your printer," she said, her voice flat, "the answer is no. If you’re here to ask me to hack your ex’s Instagram, the answer is five hundred dollars."

She spun her chair around.

She looked tired, cynical, and brilliant. Her eyes narrowed behind thick-rimmed glasses as she took in my suit.

"You’re Jake Hart," she said. "The guy who’s dating the billionaire."

"Consulting," I corrected automatically.

"Right. Consulting." She smirked. "And the guy at the door is Darius King. Which means you’re building a crew. What do you want?"

"Information," I said. "I need a dossier on Arthur Sterling. The head of the Sterling Foundation."

"Boring," she said, turning back to her screens. "Old money. Philanthropist. Probably hates taxes."

"I need the stuff that isn’t on Wikipedia," I said. "Dean Vance needs him to sign a grant. He thinks this school is a circus. I need to know what makes him tick. What he loves. What he hates. What he’s hiding."

Nia paused. She tapped her chin. "Vance, huh? She’s scary. I like her."

"I can pay you," I said.

"I don’t need money. I mine crypto on the school’s electricity." She looked at me again. "I want access."

"Access to what?"

"The Sterling Foundation’s private server. If you get me the IP when he’s on campus, I can map their architecture. Just for... research."

"Deal."

She grinned. It was a sharp, predatory grin. "Give me an hour."

[Ally Recruited: Nia Patel (The Intel)]

[Skill: Digital Forensics / Hacking]

[Loyalty: Curious]

...

An hour later, my phone buzzed with a secure file drop.

I opened it. It wasn’t just a bio. It was a psychological profile.

Arthur Sterling. 68. Conservative. Hates modern art. Obsessed with naval history. Specifically, the Battle of Trafalgar. Collects rare model ships. His son dropped out of this university ten years ago to become a DJ, which is why Sterling hates ’modern’ campus culture.

This was gold.

I walked back to the Administration Building. The secretary waved me through this time.

Dean Vance was on the phone when I entered. She looked stressed, rubbing her temples. She waved me to a chair and hung up a moment later.

"Sterling arrives tomorrow," she said, not wasting time on pleasantries. "And the catering team just tried to suggest a sushi bar. The man thinks raw fish is a communist plot."

"Cancel the sushi," I said, opening my folder. "Order roast beef. Rare. And change the venue from the Student Union to the Maritime History Library."

Vance looked up, her glasses sliding down her nose slightly. "The Maritime Library? It’s dusty and hasn’t been renovated in decades."

"Exactly," I said. "Sterling loves naval history. Specifically, the Battle of Trafalgar. We have a first-edition map of the battle in the archives. I’ve already asked the librarian to have it displayed on the center table."

Vance stared at me. The stress lines around her eyes smoothed out, replaced by a look of calculating appraisal.

"How do you know that?"

"I did my homework," I said. "He thinks we’re frivolous. So we show him we respect history. We don’t talk about the new tech center as ’innovation.’ We talk about it as ’preserving the legacy of excellence.’ We frame the future in the language of the past."

She sat back in her chair, a slow smile spreading across her lips. It wasn’t the polite smile she gave donors. It was genuine.

"You’re good," she murmured. "Better than my actual staff."

"I aim to please, Dean Vance."

She stood up and walked around the desk, leaning against the edge right in front of me. The proximity was deliberate. I could smell that sandalwood perfume again.

"Elena," she corrected softly. "When we’re in this office, you can call me Elena."

The System flashed.

[Relationship Progress: Elena Vance]

[Status: Intrigued]

[Respect: High]

[Warning: Keep it professional... for now.]

"Elena," I tested the name. It felt heavy.

"You’ve bought yourself some goodwill, Jake," she said, her eyes locking onto mine. "Don’t squander it. If Sterling signs that grant, I’ll owe you. And I always pay my debts."

"I’ll remember that."

"You should." She pushed off the desk, the moment breaking but the tension lingering. "Now go. Get some sleep. You need to be sharp tomorrow. I want you by my side when he steps out of the car."

"I’ll be there."

I walked out of the office, my pulse racing.

Sofia was the fire that burned bright and fast. But Elena... Elena was a chess game I was just learning how to play.

I checked my phone. A text from Nia.

Nia: Btw, Sterling has a granddaughter starting here next fall. Might be useful leverage if the boat stuff doesn’t work.

Me: Good to know.

I walked out into the cool evening air.

I had the Muscle. I had the Intel. I had the Dean’s ear.

And tomorrow, I was going to close the deal of the century.

...

Arthur Sterling stepped out of his vintage Rolls Royce like he was inspecting troops on the front line. He was a small man, withered but sharp, leaning heavily on a cane with a silver handle. He wore a tweed suit that looked older than me, and his expression suggested he smelled something unpleasant.

Dean Vance—Elena—stood beside me on the steps of the Administration Building. She was composed, but I could see the tension in the way her knuckles whitened around her portfolio.

"He hates the architecture," she murmured, barely moving her lips. "He thinks the new glass library looks like a ’glorified greenhouse.’"

"Good thing we’re not going there," I said.

Sterling approached us. Elena stepped forward, hand extended.

"Mr. Sterling. Welcome back to campus."

Sterling ignored her hand. He looked around the quad, his lip curling. "It’s changed, Elena. And not for the better. I see more students on their phones than I see books."

"Times change, Arthur," she said diplomatically. "But the spirit of inquiry remains."

"Spirit of distraction," he grunted. He turned his gaze to me. "And who is this? Your assistant?"

"This is Jake Hart," Elena said. "One of our top business students. He’s been... instrumental in preparing for your visit."

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