The internet café was in the basement of a laundromat in Queens. It smelled of ozone and stale ramen.
Camille paid cash for a private booth. She pulled the black credit card Mia had thrown at her out of her pocket. She slid it into the vending machine and bought a bottle of water, then tossed the card into the trash. She wouldn't be needing their charity.
She sat at the computer terminal. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
It had been five years, but the muscle memory was still there.
She bypassed the café's security software in ten seconds. She opened a Tor browser. The screen went black, then green text began to scroll.
She navigated to a site that looked like a generic offshore banking portal.
She typed in the password. Sixty-four characters. She had recited them in her head every night before she slept in her cell.
ACCESS GRANTED.
BALANCE: $500,000,000.00
The number glowed on the screen.
Before prison, Camille hadn't just been a socialite. She was "Dr. X," a shadow consultant for biotech firms and black-market medical research. She solved problems no one else could solve. And she got paid in crypto.
She quickly moved half a million dollars through a series of tumblers and into three separate clean accounts.
She needed cash. But more than that, she needed power. She downloaded a series of heavily encrypted files from the same secure server-the complete research data for the Lazarus Protocol.
She opened a secure forum called The Underground.
A banner ad was pinned to the top in flashing red.
BOUNTY: $50,000,000 USD. INFORMATION LEADING TO DR. X. CONTACT: MELTON MEDIA.
Camille froze.
Melton. Horatio Melton.
She knew the name. Everyone knew the name. His grandfather, Arthur Melton, was dying. A neurodegenerative disease that baffled every doctor in the world.
Camille knew from her research that it wasn't a disease. She also knew she had the only cure.
She looked at the bounty. Fifty million was a lot of money. But she didn't need money. She had five hundred million.
She needed a shield. She needed a weapon to destroy the Haynes family and Gavin Lloyd.
Horatio Melton was the biggest weapon in New York.
She began to type.
Sender: Agent X
Recipient: H. Melton
Message: I know where Dr. X is. But I only speak to Horatio Melton. Face to face.
She hit send.
Across the city, in the penthouse of the Melton Tower, a server chimed.
Horatio looked at the screen. His head of cybersecurity, a nervous man named Miller, was typing furiously.
"We can't trace it, sir. The signal is bouncing off satellites in three different hemispheres. Whoever this is, they're a ghost."
Horatio read the message.
"Reply," Horatio said. "Time and place."
In the café, Camille watched the reply pop up.
She smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
Tomorrow. 10 AM. Melton Manor. I will bring proof.
She logged off and wiped the terminal.
She walked out into the night. She found a high-end salon that was still open. She slapped a stack of freshly withdrawn cash on the counter.
"Dye it," she said, pointing to her mousy, prison-faded hair. "Dark brown. Almost black. And cut it sharp."
Two hours later, she looked in the mirror.
The waif was gone. The victim was gone.
The woman in the mirror had sharp cheekbones and hair that framed her face like a helmet of war. She had already purchased a white suit. Crisp. Tailored. It hid the scars on her arms.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Mia.
Mom saved some leftovers for you. Don't be late.
Camille deleted the message.
She wasn't eating leftovers ever again.
