Chapter 3

Chapter 3

-Silas' POV-

"Henry, I need every scrap of information you can find regarding the woman I encountered at the airport yesterday. Don't leave a single stone unturned." I spoke into the phone, my voice tight with a strange, burgeoning anticipation.

I leaned back in my leather office chair, staring out at the skyline of the city, but my mind was miles away, trapped in the memory of a crowded terminal. My gut, had never steered me wrong in the cutthroat world of international business was screaming at me. It told me that she was the one. The girl I had been hunting for through every dark corner of this city and beyond for the last seven years. She was the only woman who had ever made me feel a spark of genuine human emotion.

Her face, the way she moved with a mix of grace and guardedness, even the defensive curve of her shoulders... everything about her felt intimately familiar. It was as if my body remembered her even if my conscious mind struggled to place the exact moment our lives had collided.

"Yes, President Silas. I've noted the request. We will begin the background check immediately." Henry replied from the other end of the line. I ended the call without a word, my heart thumping a heavy rhythm against my ribs

"President Mercer!"

The door to my office swung open, and my executive secretary, Dave, rushed in. I had only arrived back in the country early this morning from a grueling business trip in Russia. I was exhausted, but the look on Dave's face instantly snapped me into high alert. He looked like he had seen a ghost or worse, a falling stock price.

"What is it, Dave? You look pale. Breathe before you pass out on my rug." I said, my voice dry.

"President Mercer, someone has breached our main servers! We've been hacked!" he stammered, his hands shaking as he held his tablet.

I let out a long, weary sigh.

"So what? Is that why you're screaming? This company is a global titan, we get amateur pings and script-kiddies trying to break in every week. Just find someone in IT to patch the leak and move on." I said

Dave wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Sir, it's not like the others. We already hired the top three forensic decoders in the region. They've been working since dawn, but they can't even touch the virus the hacker used. They say the encryption is... unlike anything they've ever seen."

That caught my attention. I frowned, my interest piqued despite my fatigue. We had poured millions into our cybersecurity after a minor breach two years ago. Our firewalls were supposed to be impenetrable, a digital fortress designed by the best minds money could buy.

"Who is this person?" I mused aloud.

Aside from myself who built the foundation of our security architecture. Who could possibly possess the skill to bypass my own safeguards?

"Get the car ready. We're going to the headquarters now."

Dave scrambled out of the room to follow my orders. As I grabbed my coat, a strange thought occurred to me. To bypass my system required more than just skill, it required a mind that thought exactly like mine. It was a disturbing thought.

When I arrived at the office, the scene was more chaotic than I had anticipated. My developers were staring at their screens in a trance-like state of defeat. Every single terminal in the building, from the reception desk to the executive suite, was locked. And on every screen, the same message glowed in a stark, mocking font.

"Silas Mercer, meet me at Genoa Restaurant. Tomorrow morning, 8:00 AM sharp!"

I stared at the screen, a cold smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. The audacity was almost impressive. No one....absolutely no one ordered me around, especially not through a digital ransom note.

"Dave, bring me my personal laptop," I commanded.

I spent the next hour submerged in a sea of code. The hacker was brilliant, the virus was a masterpiece of nested logic and shifting algorithms. It took me sixty minutes of intense, focused work to finally dismantle the virus and regain control of the system. By the time the screens returned to their normal corporate logos, I checked the time. It was nearly 8:00 AM.

"Dave, change of plans. We're heading to Genoa Restaurant." I said, standing up.

"Sir, are you serious? You already cleared the virus." Dave argued, following me to the elevator.

"Why meet them? It could be a trap. An assassination attempt or a corporate kidnapping."

"Because if they did it once, they can do it again," I replied, my voice cool.

"And if someone has the guts to summon me, I want to see the face of my adversary. Deploy fifteen of our best security detail. Have them surround the perimeter, but keep them out of sight."

We drove to the restaurant in a tense silence. Upon arrival, I gave a simple instruction.

"Tell the owner to clear the floor. No customers, no staff in the dining area. I want total privacy."

By 8:00 AM, the restaurant was a ghost town. I sat at a central table, my back to the wall, watching the door. Minutes ticked by. 8:05. 8:10. My patience was wearing thin. I didn't like having my time wasted.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the entrance.

"Hey! Let me in! I have an appointment!" a high-pitched, indignant voice shouted.

Dave and I both turned toward the door. I nodded to Dave, who went to investigate. He returned a moment later, looking more confused than ever.

"Sir... it's the child. The one from the airport yesterday. The one who... well, the one who looks like you. He's insisting on coming in."

My heart skipped a beat. The smart kid with the sharp tongue? What was he doing here? Was his mother using him as a messenger?

"Let him in." I ordered.

I felt a strange sense of anticipation. I liked the kid’s spirit at the airport. He was sharp and fearless, qualities I respected even in a child.

The boy walked in, wearing a crisp school uniform and carrying a backpack that looked slightly too large for his frame. He didn't look intimidated by the empty restaurant or the scowling bodyguards by the door. He marched straight to my table and climbed into the chair opposite me, sitting with a poise that was unnervingly mature.

"Why are you here, little man? Are you lost?" I asked, leaning forward.

Up close, the resemblance was even more jarring. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was looking at a high-definition photograph of myself at seven years old.

The boy didn't blink.

"I am not lost. My name is Ace Sinclair, and I am the one who hacked your company's system."

Silence fell over the table. Dave let out a strangled gasp.

"This kid? He hacked the Mercer Global network?" Dave blurted out.

"Sir, he's probably lying. He's likely just a front for his mother or some rival firm using a child as an untraceable escape goat. The Sinclair family is wealthy, but they aren't 'hack-a-global-titan' wealthy."

"Did your mother send you here, Ace?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

"Did Willow Sinclair tell you to do this? Tell me the truth. I have zero tolerance for liars, regardless of their age." I urged him

Ace didn't flinch. He maintained a calm, steady gaze, his hands folded neatly on the table. He had the temperament of a veteran negotiator.

"I am telling the truth. My beloved Mommy has absolutely nothing to do with this. In fact, she thinks I'm at a computer club meeting right now."

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a sleek, modified laptop.

"If you don't believe me, I can show you. I can put the virus back on your servers in three minutes. Do you want to see the 'Mercer' logo turn into a smiley face again?" he asked

A few moments later, Dave's phone buzzed. He listened for a second, then whispered to me, his voice trembling.

"Sir... IT reports the system is being bypassed again. From a localized source. It's... it's him. He's doing it right now."

I sat back, stunned. I watched the boy's fingers fly across the keys with a precision and speed that defied logic. How could a seven-year-old possess this level of genius? It was impossible, and yet, it was happening right in front of me. A prodigy.

"I believe you." I said, signaling for him to stop.

"Now, remove the breach. You've made your point."

Ace closed his laptop with a sharp click.

"I will remove the virus only after I get what I came for."

I almost laughed. A seven-year-old was shaking me down.

"And what is it that you want, Ace?"

The boy’s expression turned solemn.

"I want you to take a DNA test with me. A paternal test. I am almost certain that you are the man who took advantage of my Mommy seven years ago when she was drugged by her family at that wedding banquet."

The air seemed to leave my lungs. A DNA test?

I stared at him, my mind racing through the archives of my memory. I had spent years avoiding women because of a psychosomatic allergic reaction, contact with them usually resulted in hives and a closed throat. It made my personal life a desert.

But then, seven years ago... there was that one night. I had been at a high-profile event, and I had been drinking heavily, something I rarely do. I ended up in a hotel room with a girl. I remembered her being incoherent, clearly under the influence of something. I wasn't much better. My memories of that night were a blur of heat and desperation. When I woke up a few hours later, I had to rush to an emergency meeting. When I returned to the hotel to find her, she was gone. No name, no traces, and the hotel’s CCTV had mysteriously "malfunctioned" for that specific hour.

I had searched for her for seven years because she was the only woman who didn't trigger my allergy. She was the only woman I could touch without my body rejecting her.

If she had gotten pregnant that night... the timeline fit perfectly. Ace was seven years old.

I looked at the boy again. The genius with computers? He inherited that from me. The arrogance? Definitely me. The short temper and the cold, analytical way of speaking? It was like looking into a mirror.

"How old are you exactly?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

I could feel sweat breaking out on my neck. For the first time in my adult life, I had completely lost my composure.

"I am seven years old, Silas Mercer. You do the math."

I stood up so abruptly my chair scraped loudly against the floor. I didn't need a DNA test. The proof was sitting right there, wearing a backpack and judging me with my own eyes.

This boy, this brilliant, terrifying little boy... is my son.

I'm already a father?

And if Ace was my son, that meant the woman from the airport, Willow Sinclair, was the woman from the hotel.

I hadn't just found a hacker. I had found my family.

"Dave." I said, my voice thick with emotion.

"Cancel all my meetings for the next week. We have a lot of work to do. We need to go find Willow."

Ace stood up, a small, triumphant smile appearing on his face.

"I already have her GPS coordinates on my phone. Let's go, Dad."

***