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Chapter 5
Chapter 5
After slipping out of the psych ward, Geneva was dead broke, with just two bucks she’d scraped off the sidewalk.
Back when she was stuck with the Motley family, they hadn’t tossed her a single penny. Tabitha, on the other hand? That spoiled princess was rolling in hundreds of thousands a month in pocket money.
And after getting hitched to Stan? The guy was such a tightwad, he wouldn’t even spare her a nickel.
With her measly two dollars, Geneva ducked into a dingy internet café and rented a private booth for an hour. In under ten minutes, she’d sliced through the Taylor Group’s internal network like it was nothing and waltzed right into Floyd Taylor’s personal laptop.
Floyd was just a doomed side character in this crazy story, a guy who’d already dug his own grave. He’d been stupid enough to flirt with Tabitha, and Stan, the ruthless snake, had crushed him for it. Two weeks later, Floyd’s company was teetering on the edge of ruin.
Right now, Floyd was probably freaking out. Stan had started turning the screws, and the Taylor Group was feeling the heat.
Their systems were getting slammed with nonstop cyberattacks, leaking sensitive data like a busted pipe.
The company was bleeding cash, and their tech crew was flailing, completely outmatched by the hackers tearing through their defenses.
Floyd might’ve been a silver–spoon punk, but even he knew the clock was ticking. If this didn’t stop, the Taylor Group was donezo.
As Floyd sat in his office, drowning in stress, his computer screen flickered and went black.
A creepy, distorted voice buzzed through the speakers. “Hey, Mr. Taylor. What’s good?”
Floyd nearly jumped out of his skin. “Who the hell are you?!”
A pause, then the voice came back, oozing confidence. “Call me the slickest hacker you’ll ever meet.”
‘Slickest hacker?‘ Floyd thought, his gut churning. ‘This jerk’s got some balls.‘
He was half–sure this was one of the cyberpunks screwing with his company. Sweat dripped down his neck.
If they’d jacked his laptop, the Taylor Group’s last line of defense was history.
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As if reading his mind, the voice chimed in again. “Chill, man. I’m not with those scrub hackers messing up your system.”
“Scrubs?” Floyd scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup. I’ve got those losers locked out at your third firewall. Don’t believe me? Call your IT nerds and check.”
Floyd wasn’t buying it, but this hacker had skills–cracking his personal rig was no small feat.
He snatched his phone and dialed the tech team. Sure enough, his lead geek sounded shook. “Mr. Taylor, someone’s got our back! The hackers are blocked, but whoever threw up this firewall… it’s only holding for an hour. After that, we’re screwed.”
Floyd slammed the phone down, glaring at the blank screen. “Alright, hotshot. What’s your deal? What do you want?”
The voice was all business. “I’m short on cash. Slide me 2.5 mil, and I’ll hand you the full scoop on those hackers hitting your system. Plus, I’ll lock down your firewalls so tight, not even the sneakiest cybercrook alive could break through.”
“And why should I trust some rando hacking my computer?” Floyd shot back.
“I’ll prove I’m the real deal,” Coneve said, spol as ice. “I’ll squash those hackers for you right now.”
“You’re not worried Fil stiff you?”
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Chapter 5
A gritty chuckle crackled through the speakers. “Buddy, get this straight. I can save your sorry ass from those Wheeler Group punks, but cross me? I’ll torch your whole network and leave you crying in the ashes.”
The line went quiet, save for the faint tap–tap–tap of a keyboard in the background.
Floyd sat there, pulse hammering, wondering if he’d just stepped into a trap.
Not even ten minutes later, Geneva’s voice sliced through. “Bam. Hackers are gone, and their network’s toast. Total dumpster fire.”
‘What the already?‘ Floyd’s brain short–circuited. Before he could even think to call the tech team, his phone blew up.
IT was on the line, sounding like they’d just hit the jackpot. “Mr. Taylor! Those hackers bailed! We’re in the clear!”
Floyd’s gut twisted. This wasn’t some script kiddie–this was a cyber phantom. The kind one either sweet–talked into being their buddy or prayed never turned their sights on them.
Clearing his throat, he tried to play it cool. “Yo, how about we kick it sometime? Grab a drink, swap stories?”
“Nah,” Geneva shot back, blunt as a brick.
Not one to quit, Floyd went for broke. “Alright, how’s this: a gig at Taylor Group. Big bucks, sweet office, the works. You in?”
“Not my vibe.”
Floyd sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine, whatever. Just shoot me your account info, and I’ll send the cash.”
“No need, big guy,” she said, all breezy. “You green–lit it, so I already snagged it from your account.”
Right on cue, his phone pinged. Bank alert. 2.5 million bucks–vanished. No trace, no hint of where it went. Nada. Floyd’s stomach did a nosedive. This girl could’ve cleaned him out blind and he’d never know. But she didn’t. She stuck to the deal. That kind of code? It meant something. Hell, it made him half–believe she wouldn’t come for Taylor Group’s jugular just for kicks.
His fists clenched, but then it hit him: someone this sharp could’ve bled him dry without a whisper. Geneva played by rules, at least.
That cooled his dread about random strikes on Taylor Group.
Geneva got to work, turning Taylor Group’s network into Fort Knox. Then, a handful of files pinged onto Floyd’s screen. He cracked them open, and his blood turned to ice.
Wheeler Group, Those backstabbing bastards were the ones gunning for them.
‘What the hell did we do to piss them off?‘ Floyd had no clue that a couple of cheap shots he’d mouthed off had lit a fire under Stan, Wheeler’s CEO, to crush Taylor Group into dust.
Fuming over the fortune Taylor Group had hemorrhaged, Floyd slung the files to his tech crew.
He didn’t wait for a sitrep–he stormed down to the tech department himself.
Thirt
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