A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 93: CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

KYLE

I’ve had good days and bad days at work. Fortunately for me, the good ones tend to outweigh the bad.

But today?

Today came swinging with both fists—and for once, the bad won.

The moment I stepped into the office, the tension hit me like a brick wall. Phones ringing off the hook. Voices raised behind glass doors. My assistant, Mark, looked pale as he rushed to my side, tablet in hand and panic in his eyes.

“We’ve got a situation,” He said without preamble..

I was still hungover from last night—or maybe just drunk on the taste of Ashley—but the chaos around me shoved every lingering thought of her to the back of my mind. I followed Mark to the conference room. 

My executive team was already there. Dev, our CTO. Natalie from PR. Omar, our Head of Security. Every face tight, drawn. Everyone talking at once—until they saw me.

Dev stood first, his laptop open, fingers twitching nervously against the table. “It’s the Auris X model.”

I frowned, dropping into the seat at the head of the table. “What about it?”

“We’ve got users reporting some serious malfunctions overnight. Front doors unlocking at random. Thermostats spiking to ninety degrees in the middle of the night. Cameras turning on without user input. A few customers got spooked enough to call the police.”

“What the hell—” I straightened in my seat. “That model passed every stress test, every round of QA. We cleared it for full release.”

Dev nodded grimly. “I know. We ran a full diagnostic this morning when the reports started flooding in. At first we thought it was a firmware bug, maybe a corrupted update, but…” He exhaled sharply. “Kyle, it looks deliberate. Like someone broke in.”

“You mean a hacker?”

“Possibly. We don’t have confirmation yet. Whoever it was didn’t leave a signature behind, and the system logs are… scrambled. Not deleted—just reorganized. Like they wanted us to know something happened, but not figure out how.”

I felt my stomach drop.

“How bad is it?” I asked, my voice a notch lower.

“Bad enough,” Mark answered for him, flipping his tablet toward me. A video played on loop—grainy footage from a customer’s home camera. At exactly 3:03 a.m., the door unlocked with a sharp click. The handle turned. No one was there.

It creaked open into silence.

Three million views. Thousands of comments. Conspiracy theories. Fear.

We were already trending. Not the good kind.

Natalie jumped in. “I’ve got six media outlets asking for statements. We’ve had three major influencers cancel their affiliate deals just this morning. Reddit’s speculating that our tech has a built-in government backdoor.”

“Jesus.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Any ransom notes? Emails? Demands?”

Omar shook his head. “Nothing. No requests. No bragging on the dark web. Just... silence. Like someone wanted to show us they could do it.”

Or send a message.

Or test how fast we’d respond.

I gritted my teeth, my mind already racing through scenarios—an angry ex-employee? A rival company trying to sabotage our public image? Or worse, someone just playing a game. Someone smart. Patient. And dangerous.

“How the fuck did they get past our firewalls?” I asked.

“That’s what we’re still trying to figure out,” Dev said, rubbing his temples. “Whoever did this didn’t just get in—they knew where to go. What to manipulate. It’s not just a breach. It’s surgical.”

The room was quiet for a beat.

“Lock it down,” I said finally. “Every Auris X model. Suspend remote access until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Natalie blinked. “That’ll make headlines.”

“I’d rather take a PR hit than risk someone else getting hurt. Lock it down.”

Omar nodded and made a note.

“And get me a list of every person who’s had backend access to that model in the last six months. I want full backgrounds. Any red flags, I want to know.”

Dev nodded. “Already on it.”

My gaze moved to the tablet again, watching that door swing open, eerily quiet.

Whoever did this didn’t just want to make a mess—they wanted us to feel it. To panic.

Well, congratulations. They had my full attention now.

I leaned forward, voice low.

“Find them. Because I don’t care how deep they’re buried—I will burn the ground they hide under if they try this shit again.”

This company was mine.

I built it from nothing.

And I sure as hell wasn’t about to let someone take it from me.

But even as the words left my mouth, fire-hot and venom-laced, I felt it—that familiar, hollow ache blooming in my chest. The kind that came not with rage, but fear. The kind I thought I buried long ago under a mountain of achievements and late nights and carefully constructed control.

I maintained my stoic mask as I exited the conference room, nodding at questions I didn’t hear and brushing past employees I didn’t register. I had meetings lined up, contracts to approve, a dozen critical decisions waiting for me on my desk.

But I needed a minute. Just one goddamn minute.

My strides lengthened as I bypassed the elevator and ducked into the nearest private restroom. The moment the door closed behind me and the lock clicked into place, the tightness in my chest shattered. A raw, guttural sound tore out of my throat before I even realized it came from me.

I gripped the sink, white-knuckled, as my legs threatened to give out. The weight in my chest had turned to stone. Heavy. Crushing. My stomach twisted painfully, and I bent forward, dry heaving until the room spun and my throat scraped with acid.

This isn’t just a product failure. It’s not a PR issue.

It’s my company.

My company.

The one I bled for, rebuilt from ashes after my father nearly destroyed it with his reckless ambition. I clawed back its reputation inch by inch. I built a fortress. And someone just walked in and cracked a window wide open.

This company is more than a business. It’s the one thing in my life I have absolute control over—or had. And now it’s slipping, buckling under an invisible threat, and I don’t know who did it, or how, or why.

I breathed through my nose, trying to steady the riot of thoughts crashing through my skull.

My therapist warned me about this. That my obsession with control had a name. That trauma doesn’t just vanish because you succeed.

I’d laughed then. Told her I didn’t need to talk about my father anymore. Told her I was fine.

But standing here, shaking and sweating in a goddamn bathroom while my company is under siege—I wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

I splashed cold water over my face, dragging it down my cheeks with trembling hands. The paper towel I used scratched at my skin, grounding me for a second.

Maybe I need to call her again. I don’t even remember the last time I sat in that too-bright office with the too-soft couch.

I thought I was past this.

I thought I was in control.

But control is a lie the moment you can’t explain what went wrong. The moment someone slips through your defenses and exposes just how fragile your empire really is.

And now?

Now I had to hold it together—for my team, my board, the press, the investors.

Because the second I show a crack, they’ll pounce.

I left the bathroom once my breathing leveled out, straightened my collar in the mirror, and re-fastened the watch around my wrist with slow, calculated precision. Every move was practiced, rehearsed. The face I wore now wasn’t just calm—it was absolute. Untouchable. The version of me they all expected.

Back in my office, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence bleed into the room.

Then I pulled out my phone, intending to text Ashley— But a message from her was already waiting, sent twenty minutes ago.

Ashley: You busy today?

A crack of something warm splintered through the cold.

I stared at the message for a second longer than necessary, then typed back:

Me: No. Where are you?

It was Saturday. If she wasn’t working at her store, she’d likely be home. 

Another message blinked in:

Ashley: Home.

Relief hit me hard and fast, like oxygen to lungs I didn’t know were starving.

Me: Don’t go anywhere. Be there in twenty