Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

LUKAS

Fifteen Hours Earlier

" S o what do you advise?" Sebastian says as he glares at me across the desk, the sun teasing my top-floor office with orange light. "Should we let the other big boys eat our lunch, Luke? Maybe we should rock up to their offices and hand them our quarterlies, too."

"If goddamn deviants are using our VR headsets to create messed-up games," I growl, slamming my hand on the desk, "then yes."

Sebastian leans back, sighing. The crazed rush to build an empire has taken its toll on both of us. We started our company during the social media boom, first buying stakes in some smaller, failed operations and then diversifying into online journalism, media of all kinds, video production, and, more recently, AI and virtual reality. It's like we've both had to pay a price. Sebastian deals with it better mentally but not physically.

He's always been tall and lean, but he seems sunken these days, his hair thinning, his eyes wide and wired from lack of sleep. "It's just a couple of rogue freaks," Sebastian says. "We can't sabotage our entire company."

"The damage is already done. We're shutting down all VR services until we can make sure, ten thousand percent, this will never happen again."

"But—"

I stand up, glaring down at my old friend. "Seb, do you remember our old apartment? That one-room shithole? Do you remember taking turns sleeping on the floor because we couldn't even afford a couch? Do you? "

I'm shaking, disgusted down to my core.

"You don't need to ask me that," he mutters.

"Apparently, I do."

He folds his arms, sighing. "I remember."

"I'd rather go back to that than let this go on. There's a reason we never went public. We have total control. We're shutting down the VR. That's it. That's the end of it. I don't care if it tanks the company. We gave our users the ability to create their own games but not these types of games."

"This will lose us millions ," Sebastian says. "Tens of millions. Maybe even hundreds."

"We're worth billions ," I snap. "This is real life, not dollar signs on a spreadsheet."

"Can we at least discuss other options?"

I grind my teeth. There was a time when this wouldn't even be a point of discussion for Seb. He'd understand immediately. He'd have the same "fuck the world" attitude as me, but lately, he only sees dollar signs. When did that happen? Maybe I should've paid closer attention.

Sitting down, I take out my phone and open my primary social media app, clicking the go live button.

"What are you doing?" Sebastian whispers.

I spin in my office chair, putting my phone into selfie mode. Sebastian's a veteran of the game by this point. His demeanor changes. He forces a PR-friendly smile, not too smiley, but no longer grimacing. The view counter explodes from two to a hundred, then to a thousand, and then it keeps going up. Within a few seconds, it's already at five thousand.

"Many of you have seen the reports about the sick things some sick bastards have been doing on our VR services. We gave our users the ability to create their own games because we wanted to encourage creativity. However, these absolute degenerates have been using it to feed the darkest parts of themselves." I clench my jaw, glaring at the camera. "Let me tell you, if they were here, I'd smash their teeth on camera."

Sebastian winces, but this is what makes me different from other CEOs. We have a PR department, which Sebastian insisted on, but I never listen to them. I think people deserve the truth, not some spin bull crap.

"I've already contacted the authorities. We're trying our best to use existing laws to put these animals in cages where they belong. However, for the time being, I'm making an announcement. Until we can be one thousand percent sure this will never happen again, we are shutting down all VR services. Any games or currencies for games purchased within the last seven days will be refunded, either for credit or cash—your choice."

"To all our honest, creative, engaged users… I'm sorry. I'm sorry the world's such a twisted place sometimes. I'm sorry that a few have to ruin it for the rest of you. But I promise, when we're back, we'll be better and safer than ever."

I end the live, then turn back to Seb, tossing my phone onto the desk. His face has changed completely from when I was recording. He stands up and places his fists on the desk.

"That's it, then, Luke," he snaps. "You get another fifteen minutes of fame."

"Do you really think I did that for fame? "

"Another chance to play the hero and appear on more lists. Oh, I'm so relatable. I'm not a billionaire looking down on the peasants. I'm one of you. "

"Don't get petty, Seb."

"This is our company," he says.

"And you wanted to let degenerates use it however they wanted."

"Our company," he snaps. "Not yours, Luke. Ours . You shouldn't have done that without listening to my ideas first. Who do you think you are?"

"The only one willing to do the right thing, apparently."

Suddenly, he grabs the chair, spins it, and tosses it across the room. It lands with a clang and slides across the floor, making a loud scraping noise. I stare in shock. I've never seen Seb like this before. He storms from the room, not stopping to look at me.

I keep staring as he slams the door, the whole office seeming to shake. Suddenly, uncertainty touches me. Did I rush into that too fast? Should I have listened to him first? I've known Seb for more than twenty years. We've always had each other's backs.

What choice did I have, dammit? Money isn't the only thing we have to think about. I meant what I said. I'd rather be broke than let something this unhinged happen.

I press the intercom button. "James," I say.

My assistant answers. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm leaving the city for a couple of days. I'll take my meetings remotely."

"Of course, sir."

I shake my head slowly. There's no point telling him not to call me sir . Maybe Seb has a point. Sometimes, it's hard to accept I'm a billionaire, not just another person. Everybody treats me differently—everybody.

I stand up, pushing those self-pitying thoughts away. I'm standing in an office with more square footage than most people's apartments. I've got no right to complain.