Chapter 2

The encrypted call request flashed for less than three seconds before disconnecting.

It felt like a hallucination.

The screen went dark, returning to the black screen it had been before I switched it off.

I tried to power it on again, but the phone was completely unresponsive.

I gave a bitter laugh.

My top priority right now was finding a place to stay.

I hailed another taxi and went to a decent-looking budget hotel nearby.

"One room, please." I handed over my driver's license.

"Certainly. That'll be three hundred and sixty-eight for the room, plus a five hundred dollar security deposit. How will you be paying?"

"By card."

I pulled out the bank card I'd used for years.

This was a secondary card Victor Hayes had set up for me. All my salary and project bonuses were deposited into it.

But when the front desk clerk inserted the card into the reader,

"Beep, beep, beep—"

The machine let out a series of urgent beeps.

The young woman looked bewildered, tried again, and got the same sound.

She looked at me apologetically.

"Miss, I'm sorry, there seems to be an issue with your card. It's not going through."

My heart sank.

"Try another one."

I said, pulling out my personal savings card from my wallet.

I'd opened this account in college, it held all my scholarship money and the pocket money I'd earned from projects.

It wasn't a lot, but it should definitely cover a few nights at a hotel.

The result was the same.

"This one isn't working either…"

The front desk clerk's voice grew even softer.

I had no choice but to ask the clerk to help me charge my phone.

Once it powered on, a text message from the bank immediately popped up.

"Dear Ms. Harper Reed, pursuant to an application submitted by Mr. Victor Hayes, all bank accounts registered under your name have been frozen due to 'claims for past expenses,' totaling..."

I laughed.

Victor missed his calling as a financial wizard.

Looks like a hotel was out of the question.

I dragged my suitcases and headed back to the street.

The night wind blew, a bit chilly.

I opened my phone and found Michael Stone's number.

He was my lead developer, someone I had mentored, and he'd always been grateful to me.

I dialed. It rang for a long time.

"Hello? Michael, it's Harper."

The other end was dead silent, save for a faint sound of breathing.

"I need your help with something. I need you to get the original development logs from the system..."

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."

He cut me off directly, then hung up.

I stubbornly dialed another core team member's number, but it showed as disconnected.

Those partners who had fought alongside me, pulled all-nighters eating instant noodles, and shared the joy of every problem solved.

They either hung up, switched off their phones, or their numbers were no longer in service.

This move was truly ruthless.

I stood at the crossroads, watching the constant flow of traffic, feeling a hint of bewilderment for the first time.

My money was gone, my home was gone, even my former comrades had turned into enemies.

He truly wanted to break me.