Chapter 2 | The Price of Coffee

Way to early to answer the door.

Listen to the Audio Version here.

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The insistent knocking pulled Sage from a dream about encrypted passwords and diamond necklaces. She blinked at her phone—7:43 AM. Entirely too early after last night's operation at Frost Bank. Piper's ears twitched in annoyance from her perch on the bedroom's window seat, her tail moving in precise, measured sweeps that seemed to count out seconds.

"Sage? I brought breakfast!"

Ryan. The startup guy she'd dated... what, two months ago? The one who talked endlessly about his AI-driven fintech platform. The one she'd ghosted after he started hinting at meeting his parents.

"I know you're home—your Tesla's downstairs!"

Sage slipped on her silk robe, the emerald one that cost more than most people's monthly rent. "Coming!" she called, quickly checking her reflection. Even with bed-mussed hair and minimal makeup, she looked expensive. She always did.

Before she reached the door, Piper had already positioned herself near Sage's laptop, her body casually but precisely angled between the screen and where Ryan would stand. The cat's yellow eyes fixed on the door with an intensity that seemed more calculating than curious.

She opened the door to find Ryan's eager face and two paper cups of coffee. The kolache bag in his other hand bore the distinctive logo of Kerlin BBQ. As Ryan stepped in, Piper's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Sage could have sworn she saw lines of code reflected in them.

"I've been trying to reach you. I wanted to tell you about the platform. We got the seed funding!" Ryan's enthusiasm filled the room. On Sage's kitchen counter, her laptop screen flickered once, though it was closed.

Sage settled onto her Italian leather sofa, carefully positioning herself so the morning light caught her cheekbones just so. "That's wonderful, Ryan. Really."

Good coffee, but how do I tell this guy it's over?

As he launched into details about venture capital and user interfaces, Sage's mind drifted to the keylogger she'd planted last night. By now it would be collecting every keystroke from the CEO's computer. She needed to check if—

"—could really use someone with your cybersecurity background."

That caught her attention. "I'm sorry, what?"

Ryan leaned forward, coffee forgotten. "We need a Chief Security Officer. Someone who understands both the technical and human elements of digital protection. Someone like you."

Piper's tail suddenly went rigid, and a series of ones and zeros briefly flickered across her collar tag before resolving back into her name.

"That's very flattering," Sage said, watching him over the rim of her coffee cup. "But I'm happy where I am."

When Ryan finally left, Sage stood at her window, watching him cross the street below. He looked up—they always did—but her tinted windows revealed nothing.

"That's the problem with nice guys," she told Piper, who had claimed the abandoned kolache bag as a bed. "They believe in second chances. In this business, second chances get you caught."

She turned to her laptop, where streams of passwords and account numbers awaited. Time to get to work. After all, she had youth center computers to fund—and a new Birkin bag to buy.

Piper stretched and moved to Sage's keyboard, her paw precisely tapping the ESC key before Sage could begin. On screen, a warning flashed: "Incoming trace detected."

Sage stared at her cat. "We need to talk about what you really are, don't we?"

Piper just blinked, three times in perfect half-second intervals, and the warning disappeared.

[End Chapter 2: System Log - Anomalous behavior detected in home network. Source: Feline. Status: Contained]

He really was a nice guy.