Back at Sorrento’s restaurant, Debbie had managed to smooth things over with the young girl and her mother. The girl now sat between Debbie and Ethan, beaming like a Cheshire cat, while her mother snapped photo after photo on her mobile, utterly engrossed. Ethan’s fame had long since transcended that of a mere billionaire businessman. He was an icon—either loved or loathed, with little in between.

  Rab, the imposing bodyguard robot, had been ordered to pose with the girl. Crouching to his knees, he attempted something resembling a friendly expression. Given how terrified she had been moments ago, everyone agreed it was best to help her “climb back on the horse that had just thrown her,” so to speak.

  The child would grow up in a world where robots outnumbered humans—she couldn’t afford to live in fear of them.

  Her mother continued taking pictures, eventually arranging for her daughter to ride piggyback on the machine’s broad metal shoulders.

  Ethan observed the scene with a critical eye. Even at rest, Rab looked menacing, especially when commanded to display emotions. The synthetic facial muscles beneath the rubberised skin moved just enough to simulate human expressions, but not convincingly. The resulting smile was eerie, stiff, and unnatural. Intimidating, even.

  That needs fixing, Ethan thought. Bad PR.

  His train of thought was interrupted when he noticed Danny standing a short distance away, phone pressed to his ear. Something in his posture—shoulders tense, brow furrowed—set off alarm bells in Ethan’s mind. Danny glanced his way, nodded occasionally as he listened, then exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Yeah… he’s with me now. I’ll tell him,” Danny said.

  He turned to Ethan.

  “That was the cybersecurity team,” he said gravely. “Our security software’s been breached. Firewalls, satellite systems.”

  A chill settled over Ethan.

  They weren’t just any cybersecurity firm. They provided the world’s most trusted security software, used in banks, pharmaceutical companies, airports, defence systems—the backbone of global infrastructure. The safety of his entire empire depended on that system. The satellites. The robots. The autonomous cars. Space Haven. The superconducting energy plants. Everything.

  “Was it a white-hat hack?” Ethan asked quickly. If it were, this might be salvageable—perhaps even a blessing in disguise. A bug bounty hacker could be hired to patch vulnerabilities before anyone with malicious intent finds them. It would still be bad news, but not catastrophic.

  Danny shook his head. “No.”

  Ethan’s stomach knotted. This was bad.

  “What have they done to us? To our clients?” His mind was racing. “Do we have any leads? Any clue who’s behind it?”

  If the hackers wanted, they could siphon money from banks, shut down hospital systems mid-surgery, crash planes, hijack autonomous cars—disaster on a scale even he didn’t want to imagine. Up until now, he had believed his software was uncrackable, even against AI-assisted attacks backed by the power of quantum computing.

  “They haven’t touched anything—yet,” Danny said, his tone flat. “No damage, no ransom demand. They got in… and left. No trace.”

  Ethan exhaled sharply. That was almost worse. A ransom, at least, would have meant someone wanted money. This… this was something else.

  “You need to speak to them,” Danny said, handing him the phone.

  Ethan took it, his mind already running through possibilities. If they wanted money, they would have left a demand. If they wanted to destroy them, they could have already. So what’s their game?

  A ransom would be high, much higher than any bug bounty. But if they offered to tell him how they did it, he would pay. He would pay.

  Because if the news broke now… if the share price crashed… it could be the gust of wind that brought down his empire like a house of cards.

  And Ethan was overleveraged.

  The security software and satellite systems weren’t just another part of Stipe Industries.

  They were the cash cow.

  And someone had just pressed a knife to its throat.