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Page 139 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

“Really? Like good top secret or bad top secret?”

“It’s both,” I say.

“Okay.” She laughs nervously, slipping off my desk and into my lap so she has a better angle to see the encryption page.

“Now, this client is a top government agency, specifically the FCB,” I explain.

“The Federal Cyberintelligence Bureau! You hack for them! Ethan!” I knew she'd get it.

“Unofficially, yes.” Her eyes have gone wide as saucers and her mouth forms an O.

“Isn’t that dangerous, babe?” she asks.

“Potentially very dangerous if they decide I’m too much of a liability, but of course, the fact that I work for them is not as well kept a secret as it should be, especially in certain circles, so eliminating me could be a tad messy.”

I’d like to believe that, anyway.

“What circles are you talking about?”

“The underworld.”

“Like criminal circles?”

“A bit more refined. The organized type.”

“The mafia! Geez, Ethan—”

I hold her down on my lap when she tries to get up.

“Don’t freak out yet. That was the good part,” I say.

“The good part! Ethan, I don’t know if I want to hear the rest because you’re scaring me right now.”

“Baby, you’re safe with me, I promise.”

I pull out a secret panel from the end of the desk, which immediately increases its width. There, another PC, a smaller laptop, is idling on the panel, and I wake up the screen. A similar page appears. “Check it out.”

She goes to that side of the desk and bends over the screen. I let her have a look while I watch her. She deserves to know everything

“Can I?” she asks before she touches anything.

“Of course.”

She plays around with some keys. “This looks familiar. I feel like I’ve done this before."

"You have." I‘d been teaching her the programs I use for Gino for weeks prior to my surgery and our separation.

She brings up a web page of a dark web chat room and sees an ongoing discussion between me and someone else, which in literal English makes absolutely no sense, not unless I explain what the code words mean.

Who is this on the other end?”

“Someone called Giovanni. A friend.”

“Hey! Wasn’t that the best man at Alex and Nora’s wedding? The big guy with the man bun that brought lots of guards?

I nod my head.

“Rough-looking and heavily armed guards,” she adds.




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