Crossed Lines

Chapter 5

POV: Damon Cross

The skyline was still half-shadowed when Damon stepped into the top floor of CrossTech headquarters. His office, a wall of glass and steel reflected the faint blush of dawn, the city humming beneath him.

“Your nine o’clock is already waiting,” Ethan Voss said, falling into step beside him. Ethan had been with him for almost a decade, loyal, unshakable, and just as intolerant of inefficiency as Damon himself.

“Move them to ten,” Damon replied, removing his jacket and setting it over the back of his chair. “We’re starting with the symposium brief.”

Ethan handed him a slim tablet. “Security sweep is complete. Background checks on all confirmed attendees. Two flagged for prior corporate espionage have both been removed from the list before they even received their passes.”

“Good.” Damon scrolled through the digital files, his gaze catching on the section labeled Special Guests. A parade of names he barely tolerated. He flicked past them.

“This one” Ethan tapped the screen “the Duval family. Your PR team says their attendance will play well with the press.”

Damon gave a low, humorless sound. “They’re parasites. Keep them out of my VIP circle.”

“They’re already in the inner lounge list.”

“Then move them out.” His tone was final.

By noon, he was in the design lab, overseeing a prototype demonstration from one of CrossTech’s AI divisions. The engineers fumbled a detail; Damon noticed instantly.

“Start again,” he said, hands in his pockets. “If the algorithm can’t adapt to noise variables, it’s useless in the field.”

They restarted. This time, he said nothing until it ran flawlessly.

At three, Ethan appeared in the doorway of the private conference room. “About ShadowByte.”

Damon looked up from the contracts spread before him.

“We’ve traced the last two jobs, both anonymized, but the server pings narrow the location to somewhere in-state. Still encrypted beyond anything we’ve cracked before.”

“Then push harder.” Damon’s voice was calm, but it carried weight. “I want them on my payroll before the quarter ends.”

Ethan nodded. “And if they refuse?”

Damon leaned back, a faint, cold smile on his lips. “They won’t.”

By the time the sun dipped behind the city, the symposium’s stage mock-up was being assembled in the event hall. Damon crossed the floor, running a critical eye over every detail; the lighting, the projection angles, the placement of the CrossTech insignia.

Everything was under control. Just as he liked it.

But somewhere, in the back of his mind, the thought remained. ShadowByte is out there. And when Damon Cross wanted something, it was only a matter of time.

POV: Elara Duval

The garment bag lay sprawled across her couch like some unwanted guest. Hailey had arrived half an hour ago with it slung over her shoulder, all smiles and zero patience for protests.

“You’re wearing this,” she declared, unzipping the bag to reveal a sleek black evening dress with a neckline that screamed expensive.

Elara stared at it. “That looks like trouble.”

“That looks like opportunity,” Hailey corrected, holding it up to Elara’s frame. “The CrossTech symposium isn’t a backyard barbecue. It’s the kind of event where one handshake can change the trajectory of Byte & Beam forever.”

Elara folded her arms. “Or the kind where I’m cornered by people I have no interest in knowing.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “God forbid you talk to a human being who’s not hidden behind a firewall.”

While Hailey fussed with the dress, Elara’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was an email from the symposium’s official committee, confirming her personal invitation; front-row seating at the keynote.

Her stomach knotted. She hadn’t registered for any symposium.

Scrolling down, she caught the note: Recommended by Mrs. Clarisse Duval, Duval Holdings.

Of course.

It wasn’t proof of scheming, not exactly, but Elara could picture Clarisse at some lavish breakfast table, her manicured hand resting lightly on the wrist of a committee member, murmuring about “family connections” and “polished young women with potential.”

“Something wrong?” Hailey asked, snapping her out of it.

“Nothing,” Elara said too quickly, locking her phone. The less Hailey knew about Clarisse’s quiet interventions, the better.

By the time the dress was draped over her arm, her resolve felt unsteady. She didn’t want the spotlight CrossTech's event would bring. She didn’t want Damon Cross’s eyes or anyone else’s anywhere near her.

But one thing she knew for certain: refusing now would only give Clarisse the satisfaction of calling her ungrateful.

And Elara Duval would sooner walk into a lion’s den in heels than hand her stepmother that win.

POV: Damon Cross

The top floor of CrossTech headquarters hummed like a well-oiled machine and of course Damon expected nothing less.

Through the glass walls of his office, he watched the city skyline burn gold in the late afternoon light. Below, the final preparations for the symposium unfolded in precise synchrony: floral arrangements arriving in black vans, catering teams moving like clockwork, security checkpoints being tested and re-tested.

“Guest list,” he said without looking up from his desk.

Ethan Voss, his COO and right hand, placed a sleek tablet in front of him. “Vetted twice over. No anomalies, but security will scan everyone on entry.”

Damon’s gaze skimmed the names. Politicians, CEOs, venture capitalists, foreign dignitaries; the usual suspects. His attention caught on a section flagged special recommendations.

One name drew his eye.

Elara Duval.

He couldn’t place it. She wasn’t on any corporate boards, didn’t appear in his usual circles. Still, the surname tugged at some half-formed memory.

“She’s coming in on a recommendation from Duval Holdings,” Ethan supplied. “Clarisse Duval, specifically.”

Damon’s mouth twitched in faint disapproval. “We’re not in the business of social charity.”

“Clarisse insisted she was worth meeting.”

That earned a short, dismissive breath, but Damon swiped the tablet away. “Security clearance?”

“Clean.” Ethan hesitated. “Though… Her online footprint is almost nonexistent. Which is unusual for someone in tech.”

That pulled Damon’s attention away from the skyline.

Almost nonexistent.

It reminded him, faintly, of the data voids he’d been chasing for weeks. The same void that belonged to a ghost in the machine. ShadowByte.

He didn’t say the name aloud. Not yet. But as the guest list closed and the countdown to the symposium ticked away, an itch settled at the back of his mind.

Whoever Elara Duval was, he would find out.

And if she was connected to ShadowByte, she wouldn’t leave without him knowing.