Unstoppable Unforgiven (Shermaine and Joshua) novel Chapter 342

Chapter 342

Shermaine didn’t admit, not even slightly, that Joshua had influenced her in any way. With a straight face, she countered, “I’m just stating facts.”

Molly stood with one arm crossed, the other supporting her chin. She thought, ‘Maybe I should try finding a man then?‘ But the mere thought made her grimace. She wondered, ‘Ugh. Those men aren’t even worthy of being my servants.‘

Dropping the jest, Molly got down to business. “I’ve dug up intel for you. Kylie and Klaus are assassins from the Dark Organization under my family’s force. I’ve already planned how to teach them a lesson.”

Shermaine gave a faint smile. “Their fighting skills aren’t all that great.”

“True.” Molly nodded, her tone dripping with disdain. “But if I want to secure my position as the family’s sole heir, having control over the Dark Organization would be extremely useful.”

The organization was fractured internally. Gaining its full support would be challenging, but if Molly could purge the dissident factions, her odds of becoming the next family head would skyrocket.

She thought, ‘Troublesome, but worth it. That position will be mine alone.‘

Shermaine knew her ambition. “Wishing you luck.”

Molly flashed a smile, tossing her hair with a confident, domineering charm. “I will succeed. No doubt about it.”

Her intellect and capabilities were unmatched. Unlike that stupid Kylie, Molly wasn’t arrogant enough to make an enemy of Shermaine. She played it smart, cultivating a mutually beneficial friendship instead.

Shermaine chuckled, patted her shoulder, and walked out.

The Academic Exchange Conference ran from 3 p.m. until dusk. Shermaine was the final presenter. When she finally took the stage, the entire atmosphere in the venue shifted. Every attendee straightened in their seats, expressions turning solemn.

Shermaine stepped up empty–handed.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Genius. Those formulas must all be stored in her mind.”

Holding only a stylus, Shermaine cleared the previous scribbles from the electronic display with a swipe, then began writing out her first line of formula.

For the average scholar who’d come simply to learn, the content was far too advanced. They stared blankly, completely lost.

But among the academic masters present, reactions were very different. When Shermaine’s work stretched

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beyond ten lines, some of them tightened their grip on their pens. Earlier, they had heard about her attempting to prove this conjecture, but witnessing it firsthand felt like observing a miracle unfold.

Dustin swelled with pride. Once Shermaine finished, Wallington’s mathematics community would gain global recognition, and she herself would go down in history.

As time ticked by, the audience remained riveted, eyes glued to the dense formulas on the screen, afraid of losing track of her reasoning.

Finally, Shermaine wrote the concluding statement: [There exist infinitely many twin prime conjectures.]

Setting down the stylus, she flexed her wrist, stiff from writing for so long. “My proof of the twin prime conjecture is complete. Apologies for the lengthy presentation. Questions may now begin.”

Those who could follow her work were overwhelmed. Shermaine stunned them. She was so young. No

mathematician worldwide had achieved such feats at her age, let alone stood poised to claim the year’s top

awards.

One attendee said, “Professor Jean, how long did it take you to memorize this entire proof?”

Shermaine raised an eyebrow. “Geniuses never forget, you know.”

Another asked, “How long did the actual proof take?”

Shermaine replied, “I came across the conjecture with some prior references. Not long. About two weeks.”

A weighted silence settled over these senior mathematicians.

With the symposium concluded, Shermaine had fulfilled Dustin’s request. Now came the inevitable–interviews with math journals, media scrums, and private academic meetups.

Shermaine didn’t have to attend private meetings. Dustin would handle those on his own.

Exhausted, she returned to the hotel shortly after the symposium.

At the Dark Organization’s base, Klaus and Kylie faced punishment upon their return.

Klaus, already hanging on by a thread, was now barely alive.

Kylie’s family held some sway in Ustrana, so the organization spared her life, but when they dragged her out, she

was drenched in blood.

Bruce had overseen the discipline. As he finished, his phone rang. The assassin who had been sent to replace Kylie reported, “Bruce, there’s an issue with the Immortality Project.”

Kylie, who was carried past on a stretcher, flashed a faint, eerie smile.

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Back at the hotel, Shermaine showered and collapsed into bed. She woke the next morning and realized that she had forgotten to call Joshua before sleeping.

Reaching for her phone, she tugged the wound on her arm. A sharp sting made her frown. There were no missed

calls from Joshua.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Shermaine threw on a robe and opened the door to find Joshua standing there. She smiled, voice softening.

“You’re here?”

Worry etched Joshua’s face. Roy had told him about the assassination attempt in Ustrana. Shermaine had handled

it, but she was injured.

The moment Joshua heard “injured,” his usual composure shattered. He had boarded a flight to Ustrana the same night. “Where are you hurt?” he asked immediately.

“Arm,” Shermaine replied obediently.

Joshua stepped into the suite. “Let me see it.”

It was just a minor injury, nothing serious at all. But two days apart had sharpened Shermaine’s longing. She shut the door, pinned him against it, and rose onto her toes. “Kiss me.”

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