Two weeks had flown by in a blur for ire, and yet she felt like she had lived a lifetime in that short span. Between patching up Metacortex''spromised systems after Eligos''stest stunt and trying to maintain some semnce of normalcy at Cryptonic, she was running on fumes.


    The nights were sleepless, her days overrun with work and stress, and she hadn''t even had the mental bandwidth to check in on Matthew''s progress at the hospital.


    When her phone rang and Alexander''s name appeared on the screen, ire debated ignoring it. But she knew him too well. If she didn''t answer, he''d call back, and she wasn''t in the mood to y phone tag with her ex-husband.


    "Yes?" she answered curtly, her voice devoid of any warmth.


    "Hello to you, too," Alexander said, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. "I''m calling to talk about the Vegas hotel. It''s opening in less than a month, as you probably remember. Just reminding you that you need to be there."


    ire sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring at the ceiling of her office. "Hmm," she murmured, nomittally.


    "Is that a yes?" Alexander pressed.


    "Yes," she said tly.


    "And you''re sure you''re not going to ke on this?" he teased. "I know how much you love these kinds of


    events."


    "Hmm," ire replied again, barely paying attention. She was already scrolling through her emails, her mind upied with work.


    "ire," Alexander''s tone shifted to something more serious, "you''ve been short with me on every call these past two weeks. Is everything okay?"


    "I''m fine, Alexander," she snapped, then immediately regretted the sharpness in her voice. "I''ve just been... busy. That''s all."


    He paused on the other end of the line, as if deciding whether or not to push further. Finally, he said, "Alright. Just don''t forget about Vegas. It''s important."


    "I won''t," ire said, her tone softer this time. "Goodbye, Alexander."


    "Goodbye, ire."


    She ended the call and stared at her phone for a moment before setting it aside. She hadn''t meant to be so curt with him, but she couldn''t help it. Between Eligos''s constant attacks and the pressure of managing twopanies, she felt like she was stretched too thin.


    Three days ago, Eligos had managed to infiltrate Metacortex''s system again, and it had taken ire hours to finally throw him out. Normally, she and Matthew worked on these breaches together, theirbined efforts quickly neutralizing the threat. But with Matthew in the hospital, ire was on her own. It annoyed her how persistent Eligos was, how he seemed to take a sick pleasure in proving he could outsmart her defenses.


    She had rebuilt the firewall from scratch, reinforcing it with newyers of security. Yet somehow, Eligos always found a way in. If he weren''t her sworn enemy, she might have admired his skill. Hell, she might''ve even hired him at Cryptonic. But the man was a threat, and the fact that he kept targeting herpany only fueled her anger.


    This wasn''t just about business anymore. It was personal.


    Thanksgiving arrived, and with it, an unexpected invitation to the Robertson mansion. ire had stared at the ornate card for a good five minutes, debating whether to go. Her rtionship with Robert Robertson was anything but cordial. Their conversations wereced with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults, and ire couldn''t imagine why he would want her there.


    Still, curiosity got the better of her. If nothing else, she might glean some useful information about his ns. And so, she decided to go. But not without a little mischief.


    ire prepared a chocte pudding for the asion, a dish that looked deceptively delicious. However, she added a secret ingredient: a generous pinch of salt. If they were going to drag her into this awkward Thanksgiving dinner, they deserved a little payback.


    Arriving at the mansion, ire rang the doorbell and was greeted by a tired-looking maid. The woman''s frazzled appearance didn''t surprise her. She imagined Gretta Robertson had been barking orders all day, driving the staff to exhaustion in preparation for what was likely an over-the-top meal.


    "Good evening, Miss Peterson," the maid said politely. "I''ll inform Mrs. Robertson of your arrival."


    ire nodded, stepping into the


    grand foyer and ncing around. The mansion was as ostentatious as she remembered, with its gilded mirrors and marble floors. She set the pudding on a nearby table and waited, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she shifted her weight.


    "ire," came a familiar voice, sharp and clipped, Gretta Robertson appeared at the top of the staircase, her perfectly coiffed hair and immacte outfit giving her the air of a woman who thrived on


    ΛΟ


    perfection. "How... nice of you to join us."


    "Gretta," ire replied with a tight smile. "Happy Thanksgiving."


    Gretta descended the stairs, her eyes narrowing slightly as theynded on the pudding. "How thoughtful


    of you to bring something. I hope it''s edible."


    ire''s smile didn''t waver. "Oh, I''m sure you''ll love it."


    The two women stared at each other for a moment, the tension between them palpable, before Gretta finally turned and gestured for ire to follow.


    "The others are waiting in the dining room," she said over her shoulder.


    ire followed her down the hallway, steeling herself for whatever awaited her in the dining room. As they entered, she was greeted by the sight of Robert Robertson himself, seated at the head of the table, and two other guests she didn''t recognize.


    "ire," Robert said, his tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. "What a pleasant surprise. I wasn''t sure you''d actually show up."


    "Well, I wouldn''t want to miss out on such a warm and weing family gathering," ire replied, her voice equally sarcastic.


    Robert chuckled, clearly amused by her retort. "Always the sharp tongue. Please, have a seat." ire took her ce at the table, ignoring the curious looks from the other guests. She wasn''t here to make friends. She was here to observe, to gather intel, and maybe to enjoy the spectacle of Robert''s reaction to her salted pudding.


    As the meal progressed, the conversation remained light and superficial, but ire could feel the undercurrent of tension in the room. Robert was clearly up to something, and she intended to figure out what it was.


    "So, ire," Robert said casually, his piercing gaze fixed on her. "How''s business these days? Still trying to y with the big boys?"


    ire set her fork down and met his gaze head-on. "Business is fine, Robert. But thank you for your concern."


    He smirked. "I''m just saying, it''s a tough world out there. Not everyone''s cut out for it." "Funny," ire shot back. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."


    The tension at the table was thick enough to cut with a knife, but ire didn''t care. She wasn''t going to let Robert get under her skin.


    As dessert was served, ire watched with barely concealed amusement as Robert took a bite of the pudding. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he quickly masked it.


    "This is... unique," he said, his tone neutral.


    "I''m d you think so," ire replied, her lips twitching in a faint smile.