Adam rushed down the Avenue, gripped by creeping paranoia.

  Every passer-by was a potential assassin—indistinguishable, ordinary, and possibly sent to kill him. His heart hammered like a drunk raging in a holding cell, his eyes flicking from face to face, alley to alley.

  Oddly, the only presence he didn’t fear was the machines—the drones and robots humming around him. Their protocols wouldn’t allow an attack on humans. At least, not unless they were hacked. And hacking a Stipe Industries unit was considered nearly impossible.

  Supposed to be.

  Most of the machines were made by Stipe—the so-called “safest robots in the world.” But Adam knew better. If he had a Stipe neural chip implanted, he could override any drone, any robot. With his skills, they’d be his weapons. Billions of them. Even autonomous cars could be hijacked.

  The idea of a brain chip, once repulsive, was starting to be very appealing.

  But slicing out a healthy eye just to replace it with a bionic one? That still crossed a line.

  He reached the office and didn’t wait for the lift to finish its ascent—he rushed out the moment the doors opened and made straight for his desk.

  The phone. He had to check the app.

  He sighed in relief. Viktor and his goons—represented by blinking dots on the app’s map—were nowhere nearby.

  But something from that walk back from the café lingered in him. A sense of exposure. Of fragility. He was too vulnerable. A phone app wasn’t enough. He needed more. Real protection.

  As he sat down and logged in, something caught his eye—just beyond the edge of the monitor.

  Through the glass walls of the meeting room, Sophia and Eli were in the middle of a full-blown argument. They’d forgotten to activate the nano-glass, which would have instantly turned the clear walls opaque—allowing them to see out, but blocking curious stares.

  Now, everyone in the office was watching. Eli was crying. Sophia looked close to tears herself—a rare sight.

  Adam stood and cleared his throat.

  “Can we give them some privacy, please?” he said gently, yet firmly. “I’ll let them know the glass is still transparent.”

  Colleagues returned to their screens, mildly embarrassed at being caught snooping.

  Inside, Eli was visibly unravelling, while Sophia sat cold and detached. It was always Eli who wore her heart on her sleeve. Sophia was the pragmatist.

  “I’ll freeze myself at the same time you do,” Eli said, eyes glistening. “We’ll wake up together.”

  “No,” Sophia replied flatly. “There isn’t enough money for one pod, let alone two. You’re young. You’ve still got your life ahead of you. Move on.”

  “We’ll find the money—”

  “I won’t let you,” Sophia snapped.

  “I want to,” Eli pleaded.

  “No.”

  “You can’t stop me—”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Eli. We’re not some tragic lesbian Romeo and Juliet. They wouldn’t even let you. The law—”

  Sophia’s voice cracked. Her anger wasn’t meant for Eli. She regretted the words the moment they left her lips.

  The door opened. Adam entered just as Eli stormed past him, silent tears streaking down her face.

  “You okay, Eli?” he asked gently.

  She didn’t respond—just shook her head and rushed away.

  “Shut the door, Adam,” Sophia said without looking at him.

  “You two alright?” Adam asked. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

  “Sit down. We need to talk.”

  It wasn’t a request.

  Adam obeyed, watching her closely. Sophia looked pale and exhausted. There was something brittle in her tone that made his stomach twist.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she asked.

  “Tell you what?” he replied, playing dumb.

  “The hack. Stipe Industries’ satellite network. Their antivirus core. The one you broke into.”

  Panic surged. How the hell did she find out?

  A part of him felt relief—it could have been worse. She could have discovered the murder he’d committed. Or that the victim’s gang boss father was now hunting him.

  “Were you planning to keep the bug bounty for yourself?” she continued, staring daggers through him. There was pain in her voice—betrayal.

  He sighed, thinking fast. She must have accessed his logs, pieced together his browsing history. Maybe she thought he’d just found a vulnerability and was exploiting it. Better that than the truth.

  “Yeah, I was going to tell you,” Adam lied. “I thought we could build our own antivirus. One that’s better. One without Stipe’s flaws.”

  “You’re serious?” Sophia asked. “We’re drowning in debt. I need that money, Adam. We made an agreement—equal partners. Shared successes. Remember?”

  He hesitated.

  “I don’t want to take the bounty. We can do more with our own system. Who else knows I hacked it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. He’d gone from guilty to paranoid in a heartbeat.

  “We need that money, Adam,” she repeated.

  “No one can know,” Adam said sternly.

  There was silence. Then:

  “Adam… I need the prize money. I’m terminally ill.”

  He let out a dry laugh.

  “That’s not funny, Sophia. What the hell kind of—”

  “I’m dying,” she said quietly. “I need meds to extend my time—and more than likely, a cryo pod. On the Moon. I have Panadorion.”

  He froze. Her words hit like a blow to the chest.

  She wasn’t joking.

  His world tilted. Time slowed. He stood, numb, and walked to the door, opening it with trembling fingers.

  “You’re not dying,” he said, voice low and firm. “I won’t let you.”

  He stepped out, face ashen, the weight of her truth crashing down on him like a collapsing sky.

  Adam stood just beyond the door, his breath slow and deliberate as he tried to collect himself. Then he turned on his heel and walked back into the meeting room, his stride purposeful. Without a word, he crossed the room to Sophia and wrapped his arms around her where she sat.

  She stood just enough to meet him, melting into the hug without hesitation.

  “Adam, I’m scared,” she whispered.

  Her voice was so raw—so unlike the steady, fireproof Sophia he knew—that it broke something in him.

  He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “We’ll find a solution. But I’m not claiming that prize money. I can’t. Don’t ask me why—please,” he said softly. “I don’t know how yet, but I will get you the money. We will get you the best treatment there is.”

  Sophia gave a slow nod, but her eyes didn’t quite believe him. Doubt lingered there, quiet and persistent.

  If he genuinely wanted to help her… why would he not claim the bug bounty? It could extend her life—pay for the cryogenic suspension. So why the hesitation? What wasn’t he telling her?

  Outside the meeting room, beyond the transparent glass walls, staff sat frozen at their workstations—labs filled with glowing screens and cluttered benches of biological equipment. They couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but they didn’t need to. Human emotion, even muted behind soundproof walls, had its own language.

  They should have looked away.

  But no one ever does, not when pain is laid bare.