Naomi
Five years.
The city of Boston is a grid of glittering diamonds laid out below my office window. The view from the forty-second floor is supposed to be a constant reminder of how far I’ve come. Three thousand miles and a lifetime away from the girl who believed in promises made in the dark.
My reflection in the glass is a stranger. Her hair is cut in a sharp, dark bob that frames a face that has forgotten how to be soft. Her suit is custom-tailored silk, the color of charcoal. Her eyes are the only thing I recognize. They still burn.
“You’re not going to like this,” Liam says, walking into my office without knocking. He never does. Co-founders don’t need formalities.
He drops a heavy file onto my glass desk. The sound is a dull thud in the quiet, climate-controlled air. The folder is thick, bound in expensive-looking navy leather. No logo. Just a single, embossed name in gold leaf.
Harland Industries.
The name hits me like a physical blow. It’s a ghost in the machine of my new life. A bug in the code I’ve spent five years writing. My heart doesn’t leap. It doesn’t ache. It does what I trained it to do. It goes silent and cold.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice perfectly even. I don’t touch the folder. I look at Liam, my business partner and the closest thing I have to a friend.
“It’s the white whale, El. The one we’ve been hearing whispers about for six months.” He sinks into one of the leather chairs opposite my desk, running a hand through his already messy blond hair. “They want a complete security overhaul. Top to bottom. Physical, digital, the works. They want impenetrable.”
I finally let my gaze fall to the folder. Harland Industries. The legitimate, publicly traded face of a criminal empire. A name that tastes like ash.
“Their reputation precedes them,” I say, my tone dry.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Liam says, leaning forward. “Their current head of security just ‘retired’ to Belize after a massive data breach last month. The one the press called a ‘server malfunction’. My sources say the Falcone family walked out with their entire payroll and a list of offshore accounts.”
“So they’re bleeding, and they’re scared.” I allow myself a small, humorless smile. “My favorite kind of client.”
“They’re also the mafia, Naomi. Or have you forgotten the stories about where you grew up?”
I meet his gaze. “I forget nothing.”
He sighs, knowing he’s treading on thin ice. “The money is insane. Eight figures. That’s just the initial retainer. It would put us on a whole new level. We’d be untouchable.”
Untouchable. The word hangs in the air between us. It’s the goal. The entire point of this company, of this life I built from scratch.
“Who’s the point of contact?” I ask, my fingers tracing the rim of my coffee mug.
Liam flips open the folder, his eyes scanning the first page. “It’s all being handled at the highest level. The request comes directly from the CEO… Silas Harland.”
Silas. Nathan’s father. The patriarch. A man who moves chess pieces in a world of wolves. A man who probably ordered his son to prove his ruthlessness all those years ago.
“And the day-to-day will be managed by the COO,” Liam continues, oblivious to the storm gathering behind my eyes. “A Nathan Harland.”
He says the name like it’s just another name. Just a client. My mask of cool professionalism is the only thing holding me together. I keep my expression neutral, my posture relaxed. Inside, a war is raging.
*A warm-up. Nothing. Niente.*
“I’ve heard the name,” I say, the lie smooth and practiced. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of the lie. The first one was to my foster parents about a summer program at Caltech. The last one is now.
“He’s the heir apparent,” Liam says. “The Underboss, if you believe the rumors. Runs the whole show. Word is he’s twice as cold as his father.”
“Good,” I say. “Cold is predictable. Emotion is a vulnerability in a system. I prefer my clients to be predictable.”
Liam watches me, his blue eyes sharp with an intelligence that often makes him a pain in the ass. “You’re being strangely calm about this. We’re talking about organized crime, El. They don’t just fire people. They make them disappear. If we fail…”
“We don’t fail,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Our firm has a one hundred percent success rate. We have never had a breach. We have never failed. That’s why they came to us.”
“And that’s why I’m worried. A perfect record makes you a target. These people are not like our usual tech billionaires or paranoid hedge fund managers. This is a different league.”
“Are you saying we should turn it down?” I challenge him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you saying we’re not good enough?”
“Of course not,” he bristles. “I’m saying we need to go into this with our eyes wide open. The contract requires our lead consultant to be on-site for the duration of the initial audit. At their headquarters. Back in your old stomping grounds.” He pauses, letting the words land. “That means you, Naomi.”
Of course it does. The universe has a sick sense of humor. It’s not enough to dangle him in front of me. It wants to throw me right back into the lion’s den.
“I’m aware of what my job entails,” I say.
He leans back, studying my face. “There’s something you’re not telling me. I’ve known you for six years. I’ve seen you face down federal agents and black-hat hackers from Moscow without blinking. But this… this feels different. Your walls are up higher than usual.”
“My walls are what keep this company safe,” I reply, my voice clipped. “They’re what you pay me for.”
“I don’t pay you. We’re partners,” he reminds me gently. “Talk to me. Is there a history here I need to know about?”
I finally reach for the folder, my manicured nails making a soft clicking sound on the leather. I open it. The first page is a letter of intent on heavy, cream-colored stationery. Signed in a bold, aggressive hand by Silas Harland. The second is a list of their current systems. It’s archaic, a patchwork of legacy software and sloppy, in-house fixes. It’s a joke.
It’s an insult.
“Their infrastructure is a mess,” I murmur, flipping through the pages. “It’s like they’ve been begging to be hacked. No wonder the Falcones walked all over them.”
“So we can fix it?” Liam asks, his focus shifting back to business. He knows when he’s hit a boundary with me.
“Fix it? Liam, I could bring this entire empire to its knees with a laptop and a decent Wi-Fi connection in under an hour.” A cold, thrilling sense of power washes over me. The fear is gone, replaced by a crystalline purpose. “They have no idea how exposed they are.”
“So we take the job?” he asks, a grin finally breaking across his face. He’s seeing the dollar signs again. I’m seeing something else entirely.
Vindication.
“We take the job,” I confirm. “But on our terms. Non-negotiable.”
“Which are?”
“One, we get full, unrestricted root access to every server, every device, every account. No exceptions. No black boxes. I want the keys to the entire kingdom.”
Liam whistles softly. “They’ll never agree to that. They have secrets.”
“Their secrets are the vulnerability. If they want to be secure, they have to trust us. If they don’t, the deal is off.” I hold up a second finger. “Two, our team operates independently. Their IT staff reports to me. I don’t want anyone from their side meddling in our work.”
“Standard procedure for us,” he agrees, nodding. “What’s three?”
I lean back in my chair, looking past him, out at the city that became my refuge. The city that helped me forge this armor. Now, it’s time to go back to the forge. Back to the fire.
“Three,” I say slowly, “we’re doubling our fee.”
Liam chokes on air. “Doubling it? Naomi, their initial offer is already obscene. There’s no way…”
“They’re desperate,” I interrupt. “They’re humiliated. A rival family just proved they own them. For a man like Silas Harland, that’s worse than losing money. It’s about losing face. He will pay anything to get it back.” I tap the folder. “This isn’t just about security for them, Liam. It’s about power. And we are now in the position to sell it back to them at a premium.”
He stares at me, a mixture of awe and fear in his eyes. “You’re ruthless.”
“I learned from the best,” I say, the words tasting like poison. I stand up and walk to the window, my back to him. The city lights blur into a watercolor painting.
This isn’t just a job. It’s a test. A final exam. For five years, I have told myself that what Nathan Harland did meant nothing. That he meant nothing. That I had moved on, become stronger, left that weak, naive girl behind in a stranger’s bed.
Was it all just another lie?
Going back there, facing him… it’s the only way to know for sure. It’s the only way to close the loop. To prove to myself that I am the fortress I claim to be. And he is just a man. A client.
Nothing.
“I’ll need my Ghost protocol,” I say, my voice distant. “The full diagnostic suite. Tell the dev team I want it ready to deploy by the end of the week.”
“Ghost? You haven’t used that since the Geneva hack. You said it was too aggressive.”
“Harland Industries requires an aggressive solution.” It’s my masterpiece. A program that doesn’t just look for vulnerabilities; it acts like a poltergeist, rattling the chains of a system, mimicking an attack to see how it responds, where it breaks. It’s beautiful and terrifying.
It’s me, in lines of code.
Liam is silent for a long moment. I can feel his stare on my back. “Okay, El. I’ll draw up the counter-offer. Unrestricted access, full operational command, and a sixteen-figure retainer. You’re sure about this? Once we’re in, we’re in. There’s no backing out.”
I turn from the window, my expression set in stone. The reflection in the glass shows a woman in complete control. The girl is gone. Buried. This is what she died for.
“Send the proposal, Liam.”
He nods, standing up to leave. “I’ll let you know what they say.”
I know what they’ll say. They’ll say yes. Men like the Harlands don’t respect caution. They respect power. And I’m about to show them what real power looks like.
“And Liam?” I call out as he reaches the door.
He turns. “Yeah?”
“Book me a flight.”
