Georgia Hale
The name hangs in the air, a hologram of a ghost. Simon Keaton. 99.9%. My perfect match. The perfect lie.
My fist clenches. I want to shatter the projection. I want to wipe his name from my system, from my memory, from existence itself. A system purge. A full memory wipe. But I don’t move. Elysian doesn’t make mistakes. That is its one, perfect, unchangeable function. This result is a data point, and I do not discard data, no matter how much it burns.
My finger moves to the console, to the command that will erase the search. Delete the query. Bury the evidence of this statistical insanity.
Before I can touch the screen, the world turns red.
A klaxon screams, a raw, tearing sound that violates the sterile silence of the Nest. Every surface, every wall, every server rack flashes with crimson emergency lighting. It’s an alarm I have never heard outside of a simulation.
A core breach.
“Georgia!” Chloe’s voice is sharp with panic over the comms. “We have an intrusion! It’s not a drill! I repeat, not a drill!”
I’m already moving. My chair glides to the master console, my hands flying across the holographic interface. Code scrolls past my eyes, a language I speak more fluently than English. The rage, the confusion from moments ago, it all vanishes. Replaced by ice.
“Where is it coming from?” I demand.
“Everywhere!” Chloe sounds breathless. “They bypassed the outer firewalls like they weren’t even there. They’re inside the primary network.”
“Lock it down. Isolate the Elysian servers. Now.”
“I’m trying! They’re anticipating my every move. It’s like they have a map of the whole system.”
The klaxon cuts off. The red light remains, bathing the room in a bloody glow. A new voice, calm and lethal, slices through the comms.
“Hale. Talk to me.”
Leo. My head of security.
“They’re inside,” I say, my eyes scanning a dozen diagnostic windows at once. “They’re not brute forcing it. They’re elegant. They’re looking for something specific.”
“Elysian,” Leo says. It’s not a question. “My team is sweeping the physical perimeter. Nothing. This is purely digital.”
“They’re too fast, Leo,” Chloe says, her voice strained. “I’m putting up walls and they’re just walking through them.”
“Then stop building walls and start digging trenches,” I snap. “I need a trace. Give me an origin point.”
“Working on it.”
I see the attacker’s digital signature moving through my network. It’s a phantom, sleek and silent. It ignores the financial data, the corporate servers, the employee records. It makes a direct line for the heart of my empire. The code that powers Elysian.
“They’re not trying to steal it,” I murmur, watching its path. “They’re reading it. Scanning the architecture.”
“Reconnaissance,” Leo’s voice is grim. “They’re casing the joint before they rob it blind.”
“I’m not letting them get that far.”
My fingers become a blur. I stop defending and go on the attack. I write a feedback loop on the fly, a recursive piece of code designed to trap the intruder, to drown them in their own data requests. It’s a digital python, and I’m letting it loose in my own house.
“What are you doing?” Chloe asks.
“Setting a trap,” I say.
The phantom slows. It encounters my code. It prods it. Tests it. For a second, it seems to recoil. I can almost feel its surprise. Then, it does something I don’t expect. It doesn’t try to break the trap or flee. It disengages. It simply pulls back, retracting its tendrils from every corner of my network with surgical precision.
And then it’s gone.
The red lights switch off. The sterile white of the Nest returns. The diagnostic screens all flash green. Normal.
The silence that follows is more terrifying than the alarm.
“What just happened?” Chloe asks, her voice barely a whisper.
“They left,” Leo says.
“Did you get the trace?” I ask, my heart still hammering against my ribs.
“A ghost,” Leo replies. “They bounced the signal through two dozen proxy servers. Moscow, Shanghai, Buenos Aires. By the time we pinpointed one, it was already gone. They left nothing behind.”
I lean back in my chair, the adrenaline starting to fade, leaving a cold dread in its place. I stare at my system logs. Flawless firewalls, state of the art encryption, and they slipped through it all as if they had a key.
“The Nest is compromised, Georgia,” Leo’s voice is low and serious. “I’m coming in.”
I don’t argue. A minute later, the pneumatic door to my sanctuary hisses open. Leo steps inside. He’s a tall man, built like the soldier he used to be, with a stillness about him that commands respect. He’s the only person besides Chloe who has ever set foot in here, and only in the direst of emergencies.
This qualifies.
He doesn’t look at the technology. His eyes find mine. “Report.”
“The attack lasted four minutes and seventeen seconds,” I say, pulling the final summary to the main screen. “They made no attempt to steal or corrupt any data. They simply observed. They mapped the core infrastructure of the Elysian network. It was a probe. An intelligence gathering mission.”
“They were testing our responses,” Leo says, his gaze fixed on the screen. “Seeing how we’d react. What defenses we’d deploy.”
“They know our playbook now,” I finish.
“And they’ll be back.” He turns to me, his expression unreadable. “Whoever they are, they’re professionals. This isn’t a corporate rival, Georgia. This isn’t Marcus Hale trying to peek at your work. This is a different league entirely. This was funded. It was military grade.”
I nod, my throat tight. “I need new protocols. Stronger firewalls. I can write them tonight.”
“You can’t,” he says flatly.
I look up at him, my brow furrowing. “What?”
“Your defenses are the best in the world. I’ve seen them. The problem isn’t the walls you built. It’s the foundation they’re built on.”
My blood runs cold. I know what he’s talking about.
“They didn’t look for a new door to break down,” he continues, his voice steady. “They were looking for an old one. One that was built into the house from the beginning.”
“Genesis,” I whisper.
The name of the company I built with Simon. The source of the original code. The ghost in my machine.
“I rewrote ninety percent of it,” I say, my voice defensive. “The core architecture is all new.”
“Ninety percent isn’t a hundred,” Leo counters. “This attacker, they don’t just know code. They know the philosophy behind your code. They know how you think. How you build. To stop them, we need someone who knows it better. Someone who thought it with you.”
A sick feeling rises in my stomach. The two events, Elysian’s impossible result and this perfectly targeted attack, are starting to feel connected in a way I can’t comprehend. A way that makes no logical sense.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “There’s no one else.”
“There is,” Leo says.
He doesn’t need to say the name. I feel it coming. I can feel it resonating in the air between us, a toxic frequency only I can hear. For six years I have built this fortress, this life, this empire, on the bedrock of one single, undeniable truth: his betrayal. And now, that fortress is under siege, and the one person who might have the key is the same man who helped lay the foundation.
Leo holds up a tablet. On the screen is a corporate profile. A man in a sharp, dark suit. A little older. Sharper lines around his eyes. But it’s him. The same ghost from Elysian’s search result.
Keaton Security. The world’s leading cybersecurity firm.
His company.
“He’s the best there is at this, Georgia,” Leo says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “He specializes in defending against exactly these kinds of threats. He knows the Genesis code because he wrote half of it.”
I stare at the picture. Simon Keaton. My traitor. My ruin. My 99.9% match.
The universe has a sick sense of humor.
“No,” I say. The word is a shard of ice. “Absolutely not.”
“This isn’t about your history,” Leo presses, his patience wearing thin. “This is a strategic decision. He’s our only viable asset.”
“He is not an asset. He is a liability. He is the man who sold my code to the highest bidder. How do we know he’s not behind this attack?”
“We don’t,” Leo admits. “But if he is, it’s better to have him in here where we can watch him. If he’s not, he’s the only one who can help us find who is.” He takes a step closer. “They will get in, Georgia. Next time, they won’t just be looking. They’ll take it. They’ll take Elysian. Everything you’ve built for the last six years will be gone.”
My hands are trembling. I hide them under the console. The thought of Simon here, in my space, in the Nest, looking at my code, looking at me… it’s a violation I can’t stomach. It’s impossible. Unthinkable.
“Find someone else,” I say, my voice dangerously low.
“There is no one else.”
His words are a death sentence. A choice between two impossibilities. Let my life’s work be stolen, or invite the devil back into my house to save it.
I turn away from him, my gaze fixed on the blank, silent screens. I built this place to be safe. To keep the world out. To keep him out.
“Get out, Leo,” I whisper.
He hesitates for a moment. Then he places the tablet on the edge of my console, Simon’s face looking up at me. A silent, unavoidable ultimatum.
“The clock is ticking, Georgia,” he says softly.
The door hisses shut behind him, leaving me alone in the silence.
Alone with the ghost on the screen and the ghost in my machine. One and the same. My perfect match and my perfect enemy. And apparently, my only hope.
