Chapter 111: The Ghost and the Cheat

Time to make sure we weren’t starring in someone’s security cam footage while dropping world-changing secrets like we were on a talk show.

Charlotte watched me type with that weird mix of curiosity and panic she was starting to wear like perfume. "What exactly are you doing to their system?"

"Making sure no one’s eavesdropping," I muttered, eyes locked on the code sprinting across her screen like it was late for class. "You’d be shocked how many places stash hidden cameras. Changing rooms, offices, VIP suites... this place is basically a luxury fishbowl with designer curtains."

Okay, technically I was blacking out every single camera near the suite—and more importantly, the ones that might catch my family walking in here with Charlotte like we were shopping for designer hand-me-downs.

Meanwhile, three floors down in La Cherie’s control center, things were going... well,

weird

.

The place looked like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise—giant curved screens flashing between angles of expensive hallways showing everything from shoplifters failing miserably to influencers trying to look casual while buying $6,000 handbags.

Security guards in overpriced polos sat in ergonomic chairs, half-watching, half-daydreaming about pizza and early retirement, smug customers, and nervous security guys trying to look important. But the feeds from Charlotte’s private suite? Pure cinematic snoozefest.

There we were, on loop: two rich-looking silhouettes sipping drinks, occasionally pointing at handbags like we were debating leather quality. No lip movements worth reading. No sound. Nothing suspicious.

Just rich people being vaguely rich in a secure location.

Boring. And that was the point.

Not one of those security guards had a clue they were watching a deepfake reality show produced by yours truly.

As far as the system was concerned, Charlotte and I would be doing absolutely nothing interesting for the next hour. No masked hacker. No secret meetings. Definitely no classified AI talk.

Digital invisibility, baby. Cloak of boring-ness activated.

I finished, leaning back like I’d just submitted an essay ten minutes before deadline.

"There. We’re ghosts now."

Charlotte gave me a look like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss me or call Homeland Security. "You just hacked La Cherie’s entire surveillance system."

"I prefer the term ’temporary asset repurposing.’ I’ll give it back. Eventually."

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You are

so

insufferable."

"But effective."

"Brilliant. Paranoid. Infuriating. And now apparently capable of rewriting reality on command."

I gave her a cheeky shrug. "Yeah, well, someone has to clean up your messes, Ms. Billionaire CEO. Just think of me as your personal digital janitor."

’And also, your last hope, but let’s not get dramatic just yet.’

I pulled out my phone and started typing because this next part? Was going to be a conversation no one was emotionally prepared for.

Me:

Madison, I need you to bring Mom and the girls to the VIP level at La Cherie. Charlotte Thompson wants to meet them.

The reply came back faster than an eye roll.

Madison:

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, PETER?

Ah. There it was. The love.

Me:

I know. It sounds insane. But it’s real. Serious business. Charlotte just hired me.

Madison:

As in—THE Charlotte Thompson?? CEO Charlotte? Tech billionaire Charlotte??

Me:

The one and only. Seven-figure contract. She wants to meet the family. I should’ve told you but well, you like surprises

I paused before hitting send on the next message.

Also... maybe tell Mom not to panic when she hears "Quantum Tech" and "her teenage son just saved it from collapse."

This was going to be a wild family reunion.

There was a longer pause this time. I could practically hear Madison’s brain revving up, gears spinning behind those dark eyes that had once aced every AP class and somehow managed to out-argue two lawyers at a family reunion.

Madison

:

Peter, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Me

:

Something insane. Something legendary. Something that could rewrite everything for my family. Just trust me on this.

Madison:

I always trust you. But if this goes sideways...

Me:

It won’t. Meet us at the private elevator. Ask for Janet.

Madison:

Fine. But you owe me the biggest explanation in human history.

Me:

Deal.

I looked up. Charlotte was watching me like I was some sort of puzzle that had just grown a second layer. Her head tilted slightly, one perfectly arched brow lifting. "Your girlfriend?"

"Madison Torres. And yes,

that

Torres. Her family builds half the coastline." Well, I have to admit, I was flexing.

That name hit different. Charlotte’s entire vibe shifted—like some secret social currency just changed hands. Rich people always seemed to sense each other across rooms, across continents, like sharks tracking blood in saltwater.

"Torres Developments," she said, voice soft but knowing. "Your girlfriend’s family owns entire skylines. And you just pulled off a data extraction so clean it makes my security teams look like they’re still using floppy disks." Her gaze sharpened. "I’m beginning to suspect Peter Carter is a lot more dangerous than he looks."

If you only knew, sweetheart. If you only knew the kind of fire I’m walking through just to make sure the people I love don’t burn.

"Everyone’s got secrets," I said, sinking deeper into the stupidly plush chair. "Speaking of which... you ready to explain to my mother why you want to hire her sixteen-year-old son to save your multibillion-dollar empire?"

That cracked her—just a little. The tiniest tremble in her perfectly CEO-polished expression. The first flicker of oh-shit I’d seen since she walked into my life like a hurricane in heels.

"How difficult could it be to convince one concerned parent?"

I actually laughed. Like, full-chest, no-filters kind of laugh.

"You’re about to meet the woman who raised three kids on a nurse’s salary, survived two layoffs, one hospital merger, and more back-to-back night shifts than you’ve had bad Tinder dates. She doesn’t flinch at tears, screams, or billionaires with god complexes."

Charlotte, my mom’s going to eat you alive if you walk in like this is just another business pitch.

"She’s also going to have questions," I warned. "The kind that make grown men cry. Questions about NDAs, child labor laws, job titles, working conditions. Oh, and she’s going to assume this is some kind of weird PR stunt until you prove otherwise."

Charlotte sat up straighter, CEO armor sliding back into place like a well-rehearsed monologue.

"I can handle one protective mother. I’ve handled presidents. I’ve stared down global trade negotiators."

"Yeah which same negotiations you failed but sure, but my mom isn’t a president," I said, grinning behind the mask. "She’s a Latina nurse from Lincoln Heights who once decked a guy in the grocery store for cutting in front of a pregnant woman. She’s way more terrifying."

And from her point of view? You’re not hiring her son. You’re applying for access to him. And there’s nothing more high-stakes than that.

"And if she doesn’t approve?" Charlotte asked. And this time, the vulnerability wasn’t a crack—it was a confession.

"Then the whole thing dies on the table," I said. No bluff. No bravado. Just truth. "I don’t move without my family. They’re the reason I’m doing any of this."

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just sat there, realizing that her billion-dollar solution came with a nurse, a big sister, a little brother, and a kitchen table that had seen more tears than boardrooms ever would.

"No pressure," I added, flashing her a crooked smile.

Welcome to the Carter family vetting process, Charlotte Thompson. Hope you’re ready for the interview of your life.

***

A/N: Thank you so much @sgtcwby for the gifts.