Page 5 of Mr. Wilde

There’s a stunned pause on the other end. “Y-you already⁠—?”

“Yes.” Silence.

“That’s… it?”

“For me, yes. Try not to make it this easy for the next guy.” I lean back in my chair.

More stunned silence.

“You’re welcome,” I add before hanging up.

Letting out a yawn, I close my eyes and shake my head. The worst part isn’t how easy it is. It’s how little I feel when I’m done. There’s none of the adrenaline I experienced when I first started. And little satisfaction once a job is complete. Just another problem solved before moving to the next. Like a drone. Leaning back, I rub a hand over my face.

It’s almost too easy.

This wasn’t how I thought my life would go. I went to Princeton with every intention of building software. Legitimate, innovative software. My father had created a respectable career doing the same. Clean code and corporate contracts. Things just… well, they took a left turn along the way.

Turns out cyberwarfare runs in my veins. It made me a billionaire before the age of thirty. Not that the money means all that much to me. Sure, I’m grateful for my success. And I’m keenly aware there are many people who’d love to live the life I have. Yet, I understand “You can’t take it with you” better than most of the upper one percent I’ve come to know.

I’d give everything I own for⁠—

I stop that thought cold. We’re not going there today, Max.

My door bursts open. “Yo, moneybags!”

Frank strolls in like he owns the place, wearing steel-toed boots and a hoodie that reads TRUST ME BRO DELIVERY across the chest.

I stare at it. Then at him. “You cannot be serious.”

“Brand recognition,” he says.

Guess it’s better than the other two that made it to the shortlist. DEFINITELY NOT STOLEN INC and FUHGEDDABOUDIT EXPRESS. “You look like you’re about to sell fake Rolexes out of a trunk.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, nobody forgets a guy who shows up wearing TRUST ME BRO.”

Loretta walks past, takes one look, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to know,” she says.

Frank grins. “What? It’s the company uniform.” He drops a stack of envelopes on my desk and grins, dark hair slicked back, Jersey accent thick as ever. Frank slaps my shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Bro, you will not believe what I just had to deliver.”

I don’t look up from my screen. “Something illegal?”

“Only morally.”

That gets my attention. I swivel my chair. “Define morally.”

He grins a wide, toothy smile. The kind that says I’m about to regret asking. “A velvet box. Tied with a bow. Inside? A diamond necklace that probably costs more than my first car.”

I blink. “That’s it?”

“Oh no, no, no,” he says, wagging a finger. “That was just the appetizer.” He flops into the chair across from my desk, clearly in no rush to deliver anything anytime soon. Including the point of this story.

I lean back. “Frank.”

“It was for a guy who wants to ‘accidentally’ leave it on his girlfriend’s nightstand so she thinks it’s a surprise,” he says, air-quoting so aggressively he nearly dislocates a finger. “Problem is, he’s married. To a different woman.”

I stare at him.

Frank shrugs. “I asked questions. Told him I needed to know for my own peace of mind.”