flash
The heavy thud of the security guard tackling the husband against the concrete pillar of the open elevator shaft echoed off the marble walls of the grand ballroom. The red LED light on the flash drive blinked in the dim emergency lighting—a mocking, rhythmic pulse that seemed to mock every single person in the room. / Chapter 2 / 8

Chapter 2 - The Password

Chief of Security Marcus Vance, a seasoned veteran with a permanent scar across his left jaw, kicked the flash drive away from Julian's reach. He bent down, scooped it up with gloved fingers, and walked straight toward Elena.

"Ma'am," Marcus said respectfully, his eyes softening as he looked at her condition. "What do you want us to do with this?"

Elena stared down at the small piece of plastic. The entire ballroom held its collective breath. The wedding guests, who had previously recorded her humiliation on their smartphones, now pushed closer, their cameras flashing blindly, desperate to capture the next twist in the blood-sport drama.

"Plug it into the main projector," Elena commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"No! You can't!" Beatrice shrieked, lunging forward like a cornered animal, but two security guards intercepted her, pinning her arms back. "That's private corporate property! It's classified! If you play that, you destroy the Vance family empire!"

"The empire built on my blood and my father's inheritance?" Elena turned slowly, her gaze fixing Beatrice with a terrifying calm. "Let's see what it's made of."

Marcus nodded, walking over to the DJ booth and plugging the flash drive into the master control console. Within seconds, the massive LED screens that had moments ago displayed a romantic montage of Julian and Elena flickered to life.

A password prompt appeared on the screen: [ENTER ENCRYPTION KEY: LEVEL 9 CLEARANCE].

Julian let out a harsh, mocking laugh from the floor. "You'll never guess it, Elena. Never. It's locked to my corporate biometric profile."

Elena walked slowly toward the console. She looked at the blinking cursor. She didn't look at Julian. She didn't look at Beatrice. She thought of her late father, Arthur Vance—the brilliant software engineer who had built the security encryption algorithms used by half the Fortune 500 companies before he died under mysterious circumstances three years ago.

Julian had always mocked her father's obsession with security questions based on emotional milestones rather than random numbers.

Elena reached out her trembling finger and typed: [ARTHUR_LITTLE_GIRL_1998].

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Click.

The screen flashed green. Access granted.

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