Chapter 3

The Stryker Innovations Annual Tech Gala was the event of the year. I was there, not as a guest, but as Damien's shadow, carrying his tablet and a spare pair of his ridiculously expensive glasses.

He looked unfairly good in a tuxedo.

Damien paused at the entrance, his hand lightly on my lower back to guide me. "The lighting in here is surprisingly flattering, Chen. Don't want you tripping."

My cheeks burned. He was definitely toying with me.

The gala was a blur of forced smiles and industry giants. Richard Thorne, Damien's estranged uncle and CEO of a rival company, Thorne Dynamics, was schmoozing nearby. He had a predatory grin.

Damien was scheduled to give the keynote, unveiling a new AI-driven logistics system.

As he began, the main screen behind him flickered.

Code, not his presentation, flashed across it. A denial-of-service attack, crude but effective in a public setting.

Panic rippled through the audience.

My old software developer instincts kicked in. I saw an open port in the temporary network setup for the presentation, a rookie mistake by the event's tech crew.

Before I could think, I grabbed the event technician's laptop nearby, my fingers flying across the keyboard, closing the port and isolating the intrusive script.

The screen flickered again, then Damien's presentation reappeared.

The whole thing took less than ten seconds.

Damien didn't miss a beat. He smoothly transitioned, "A live demonstration, it seems, of vulnerabilities in outdated systems. Which is why Stryker Innovations is leading the charge into the future."

The audience, thinking it was a deliberate stunt, applauded.

Later, Finch discreetly informed Damien, "Thorne's IP address was flagged on the attempt, sir. We have him."

Damien nodded, his eyes finding mine across the crowded room. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

A server approached Damien with a glass of champagne. Damien took it, then turned.

"Chen," he said, his voice low. "Good instincts. You seem flustered. Perhaps you need a drink."

He didn't offer me the champagne. He just watched me, a strange look in his eyes.

It wasn't amusement. It was something else, something I couldn't name.