Chapter 17 - Neutral Territory
Two days later, I sat inside a high-end, glass-walled café located in the international district of Geneva, Switzerland.
The air smelled of roasted espresso beans and cold alpine wind. Through the thick glass windows, the city streets bustled with quiet, orderly efficiency.
A tall, impeccably dressed man in a charcoal overcoat walked into the café, his silver-streaked hair and cold blue eyes instantly giving away his lineage. Richard Sterling.
He slid into the booth across from me without invitation, his lips curving into a razor-thin smile.
“Miss Morgan,” Richard murmured, his voice smooth and accented with aristocratic polish. “I must admit, I didn't think you’d have the courage to fly all the way to Geneva alone. Did you bring the signed legal affidavits for my sister’s appeal?”
I didn't smile. I didn't flinch. I simply stared at him across the small wooden table with absolute, freezing calm.
“You made a mistake, Richard,” I said evenly.
He frowned slightly. “Is that so? And what mistake would that be, my dear? You’re the one sitting in my trap.”
“You assumed Vincent and I were the only targets of your little contingency file,” I replied, leaning closer. “You forgot to check who actually owns the quantum servers in Zurich.”
Richard’s arrogant smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. “What are you talking about?”
“Twelve minutes ago,” I said smoothly, glancing at my wristwatch, “our security team intercepted your server's primary cryptographic key using a biometric handshake authorized by the Swiss federal prosecutor's office. The Zurich server has been purged. Your contingency file doesn't exist anymore.”
Panic flared instantly in Richard’s eyes. He slammed his hand against the wooden table. “You’re lying! That server is quantum-locked! Nobody can breach it without my master key!”
“Your master key was generated using software vulnerability patches designed by international cybersecurity experts,” I said softly, my voice cutting through the ambient café noise like a razor. “Richard... you thought you were dealing with a simple nanny. You were playing checkers in a game you never understood.”
Richard stood up frantically, his face turning pale with sheer terror as two local Swiss federal agents stepped out from the neighboring booths, blocking his exit and placing heavy handcuffs on his wrists.
May you like
“You can’t do this!” he screamed in outrage. “I’ll destroy you! I’ll—”
“You’re finished, Richard,” I interrupted, standing up, smoothing down my blazer, and leaving a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table for my untouched tea.
