Chapter One - Just Roommates

(Two Months Ago)

Peter

I was halfway to my destination when I realized I'd forgotten some important documents. I was never this careless—especially not with something so critical.

Cursing under my breath, I made a U-turn and headed back home. Jasmine and I had been living there for nearly a year—eleven months, to be precise. She’d been my fiancée for two months now, and we'd moved in together nine months before that.

I pulled out my phone and called her, hoping she could find the documents and have them ready before I arrived. But the call didn’t go through. The user is unable to answer your call.

Strange. Jasmine never ignored my calls. Maybe her phone was on silent. Or maybe she was at that book club meeting she’d mentioned earlier.

When I arrived home, I instinctively tried the doorknob, only to find it locked. Of course, it is. What was I thinking? Jasmine probably wasn’t home. Fishing my keys from my pocket, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

I was about to head straight to our bedroom—where I last remembered putting the documents in the safe beside our bed—when something caught my eye.

Jasmine’s phone.

And next to it… another phone.

As I moved closer, a flicker of recognition hit me. The second phone looked familiar, but I couldn't immediately place where I'd seen it before.

First, I picked up Jasmine’s phone to check why my calls had gone unanswered. I pressed the power button. Not on silent. Not on vibrate. Seven missed calls—all from me.

Frowning, I pressed the power button on the other phone. The screen lit up.

My stomach twisted.

Antonio’s phone.

It had to be his. The model was identical to the one he always used, and the lock screen confirmed it—his own photo plastered across the background, exactly the way he liked to set up his devices.

Why was his phone here? Had he stopped by while I was out? If so, why hadn’t he called to let me know he’d been here? More importantly, why was Jasmine’s phone here too?

Questions swirled in my head, but I pushed them aside. Some of them… I didn’t like the direction they were going.

With both phones in hand, I climbed the stairs.

"Jasmine?! Are you home?" I called out, my voice echoing through the house. No response.

Maybe she was napping. Or in the shower.

I called her name again, over and over as I approached the bedroom door. Nothing.

Then, just as I reached the doorstep, I heard something.

A muffled sound.

At first, I wasn’t sure what it was. Then, realization hit.

Moaning.

"Jaz, did Antonio drop by while I was—" I pushed the door open mid-sentence.

And then I froze.

"Jesus Christ! What in the devil’s name are you two doing?!"

---------------------------

(Present Day)

Leah

Three days ago, the company I worked for was hit by a cyberattack.

A ransomware attack, they said. The hackers had locked us out of critical systems, demanding payment to restore access. It was chaos. The IT department scrambled to contain the damage, but the worst part?

They said I was the one who triggered it.

According to their report, the attack started when I plugged my phone into my workstation. Either I’d launched the breach knowingly, or my phone had been used as a dummy for the hackers.

When I was summoned for questioning, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest.

Me? A hacker? That was absurd. But I couldn’t deny the facts—the attack had started with my device.

I explained everything. How I’d simply been transferring files from my computer to my phone. How, seconds after plugging it in, both screens had flashed white before freezing. How I’d tried shutting them down, but neither responded. My desktop was easy to cut off—I just unplugged it. But my phone, with its built-in battery, wasn’t so lucky.

When I rebooted my computer, I couldn’t log in. Instead of the usual login screen, a strange message filled the monitor. I barely had time to process it before the IT team stormed in.

Now, my phone had been confiscated for investigation. I was still reeling from the accusations, afraid of losing my job—a job that meant everything to me.

The only silver lining? I still had my old phone at home. It wasn’t much, but for now, it would have to do.

------------------------------

Author's Note

Leah worked at Centurion Graphics, a company owned by Japanese-American billionaire Satoshi Moto. Specializing in computer graphics, VFX, CGI, and cinematography, the company was a leader in the industry.

But a few days ago, everything changed.

A ransomware attack had crippled their systems—not just locking files, but taking entire operating systems hostage. The attackers remained unidentified. Their true motives? Still unknown.

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