บททั้งหมดของ Mafia Tech Bro: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

TANISHAI slammed Christof Gustavo’s door. Hard enough to make a point. The sound carried down the hallway, which meant everyone on the executive floor definitely heard it. I didn’t turn around to check, but I could already imagine the silent office gossip spreading like wildfire.Did she just—Yes. She did.I kept walking, like it was a completely normal to slam the CEO’s door every day and then casually head to the elevator. I wished I could punch him in the face, just one time. The satisfaction might just be worth the jail time. The elevator dinged, I stepped inside and the doors closed.And that should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Because now I’m here, hours later, sitting in Roman’s dining room, and my brain keeps running a replay. Not of the whole argument or whatever that was, just the parts that sting in a very specific way.‘You sound hypocritical.’ I replayed the words, while absentmindedly turning the stem of the wine glass between my fingers. I am not hypocritic

CHRISTOFThe driver brought the car to a measured stop at the entrance of my home, and I stepped out at once, adjusting my cuffs as I crossed into the house. My attention already shifting into the order I expected within my own space.The house keepers did an impressive job of staying out of sight most of the time, so the house was mostly quiet. Or at least should have been. As I made it up the stairs and into the hall-way, Pepa’s voice carried from the bedroom with an ease that suggested she had forgotten, as she often did, that I valued serenity in the bedroom.It was not the sound itself that irritated me, but the consistency of it, the bright modulation, the careful warmth, the performance embedded so deeply into her manner that it no longer required effort.Under normal circumstances, I would have ignored it. Tonight, I did not. I walked into the bedroom without announcing myself, loosening my tie as I did, my gaze settling briefly on the arrangement before me with the detached a

TANISHAI arrived Christof’s estate right on time. Not too early, not a minute late either. Everything was as it usually was, except for one unusual development. Christof, was occupying the driver’s seat.One hand resting on the wheel, the other adjusting the rearview mirror with precision, as though this were something he did often. He didn’t. In over two years of working for him, I had never seen him behind the wheels.I stood by the opened passenger door, trying to decide if this qualified as something worth asking about. It didn’t. If there was a reason, he would offer it. If there wasn’t, the question would be unnecessary. Maybe he just felt like driving today.I got in.“Good morning, sir.”He glanced at me, brief and assessing, then said, “Seatbelt.”The reminder was casual, almost considerate.It caught me off guard.I pulled the belt across my chest, fastening it without comment, trying to reconcile the version of him sitting beside me with the one I had left in his office th

CHRISTOF Marcus had been active there for six weeks. Not continuously, at intervals. Short, controlled interactions that sat just below automated thresholds. Enough to avoid detection, just enough to build something over time.He began with environmental datasets, not even shipping manifests, or financial records. He then moved to ocean current models, depth mapping, traffic density overlays.Information adjacent to logistics but not classified as operational. On their own, they are harmless. Together, they describe space.From there, he shifted. He began querying time-indexed access logs tied to those datasets. Not the data itself, the timestamps associated with when certain files were opened, modified, or cross-referenced.He was not reading information, he was studying when information moved. That is not accounting, it’s pattern construction.I isolated the sequence. Each query aligned within narrow windows, three-hour segments repeating across multiple regions. Mediterranean firs

TANISHAOnce I arrived home, I shut my bedroom door and flung my bag onto the vanity chair without looking at where it landed. My heels came off immediately after, kicked aside carelessly.I reached for the buttons on my blouse and undid them aggressively, my fingers slipping once before I got it right.“What an idiot,” I muttered under my breath, pulling the fabric off and tossing it away.There was a lingering tightness in my shoulders, a dull pressure at the back of my head. Even standing still, something in me hadn’t fully slowed down. As though my body hadn’t quite accepted that I was no longer in that car.I had drifted through the day like a ghost, numb to my thoughts and emotions, merely going through the motions of existence. But as soon as I stepped through the door, the dam holding back my feelings shattered. A surge of pent-up emotions exploded within me, morphing into a fierce wave of anger, with one specific target.I took several deep breaths before reaching behind to u