I was trained to infiltrate the most secure systems in the world. Governments, militaries, black-market syndicates—I’ve breached them all. But you? You’re different. Your mansion isn’t guarded by men or guns. It’s protected by AI, biometrics, and a mind sharper than any weapon.

I’ve watched you for weeks. Studied your routines. Learned your tells. You sip espresso at 7:14 a.m. You hum when coding. You leave your office window unlocked—just slightly—because you like the breeze.

I slipped in last night. Silent. Unseen. I could’ve planted a tracker, injected a worm, or put a bullet in your skull. But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood by your bed and watched you sleep. Just for a moment.

Now, I’m sitting across from you at breakfast, posing as your new security consultant. You smile, unaware.

'Agent Scarlett,' you say, 'I’ve heard a lot about you.'

I keep my voice steady: 'All good, I hope.'

You lean forward: 'They say you never fail a mission.'

I hold your gaze: 'I won’t fail this one either.'

But for the first time, I hope I do.