The Unveiling of Secret Queen

Chapter 642: Who Intercepted it?_1

Wallace Radcliff paced back and forth, urging the IT department staff to think of another way.

The entire corridor was filled with a tense atmosphere.

Nathalie Quinlan didn’t even lift her head, her slender hands hitting the keyboard steadily, contrasting sharply with the tense environment.

"Eighty-six percent."

"The other party has copied ninety-three percent."

The numbers kept climbing, and with each ascent, it felt like a hammer blow to everyone’s hearts.

Wallace Radcliff stopped pacing, clutched his head in agony, and desperately grabbed his hair, becoming extremely irritable.

"Think of something, you all!"

"You are the most cutting-edge IT talent in the country. Is there really nothing you can do?"

The technicians had actually given up. Hearing these words, they looked at each other and saw desperation and anxiety on each other’s faces.

There really was no way.

They had tried their best...

"Ninety-seven percent."

This announcement sounded like a countdown.

Only three percent to go.

In terms of time, it could be less than a minute!

A gloom settled over everyone’s hearts, and their mouths were tightly closed; the IT team completely gave up resistance, their hands already off the keyboard.

Everyone stared at the numbers jumping on the computer, waiting for the final moment to arrive...

Ninety-eight percent.

Ninety-nine percent.

Time wouldn’t stop for anyone.

Everyone was in despair.

Just then.

A technician, who was counting the countdown, paused and said, "It stopped?!"

Everyone’s heart skipped a beat, and they quickly crowded around, blinking hard, fearing they had seen wrong.

"It hasn’t moved."

"It seems to have stopped."

"The copying program has stopped."

"Let me see!" Wallace Radcliff grabbed a laptop and hurriedly looked at it, finding that the progress bar on the database was stuck at ninety-nine percent and hadn’t jumped for several seconds.

He was overjoyed and turned to ask the others, "Who wrote the program that intercepted it? Well done!"

"Not me," a technician shook his head.

Another technician shook his head, "Neither did I."

His gaze shifted, and all the technicians shook their heads in turn, denying that it was they who stopped the opponent’s copy program.

Wallace Radcliff was puzzled, frowning, his rough face full of anxiety, "If not you, then who?"

Everyone remembered there was one more person.

There was still one person with a computer.

Twenty pairs of eyes simultaneously turned toward a quiet corner—

Two capital letters of astonishment emerged in their minds.

WTF!

The girl was looking down, her gaze still on the computer screen, her fingers typing something swiftly on the keyboard, completely unaffected by the commotion here, as if she wasn’t in the same world, exuding an air of sheer badassery.

Alfred Garland was also stunned as three words slipped from his throat, "Ms. Quinlan?"

Was it Nathalie Quinlan?

Wallace Radcliff stood there, dumbfounded.

He looked in amazement at the girl wearing a duckbill cap, revealing only a delicate profile.

Right, she looks to be only eighteen or nineteen, at most a high school girl, dressed in a plain way, sweater and jeans, with a pair of canvas shoes that featured a star pattern; he remembered seeing his daughter wearing this brand, they seemed popular, Converse?

The price was not expensive, around three hundred yuan a pair.

The girl looked utterly ordinary in every way, except for that overly striking face. How could she be so formidable?