I stepped out of the sliding doors into the biting cold of the airport pickup zone. I took a deep breath, letting the freezing wind sting my face. They thought they had broken me. They thought I would go back to my fake studio apartment and cry into a pillow.

They forgot that my job isn’t just building networks. It’s dismantling threats.

I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. My balance wasn’t a number. It was a weapon. They wanted a narrative where I was the crazy, unstable failure in rehab? Fine. I would give them a story, but it wouldn’t be the one they were expecting.

I wasn’t going to be the victim in their little Aspen fairytale. I was going to be the director.

My phone buzzed against my palm. I expected another taunt from Brittany, or perhaps a demand for money from my mother disguised as an emergency. Instead, it was a priority alert from my bank.

Security Warning. Transaction Declined. Amount: $200,000. Merchant: Rolex Boutique, Aspen. Card ending in 8841.

I stopped walking. The crowd flowed around me, people hugging and loading luggage, but the world went silent.