Frank Ashford didn’t look like a genius, He looked like a janitor, because he was one. Beige overalls, scuffed boots, and a rolling cart stacked with cleaning supplies.His ID badge barely clung to its chipped plastic clip, and his face, once full of fire and ambition, now wore the mask of someone used to being invisible.The world had forgotten Frank Ashford, And that was just fine for now, He mopped the marble floor of MorganTech’s Tower B, twenty-third floor, right outside the Executive Programming Division.The silence here was different, sharp, paranoid. No interns ran through the halls. No casual chatter. Just glass, chrome, and the occasional whisper behind a closed door.Frank dragged the mop slowly, carefully, like he was erasing himself, He glanced at the digital wall clock. 2:43 a.m. The hour of ghosts and secrets. Perfect.He moved toward Server Room 4A-the one marked “AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY” in red letters. His access badge wasn’t supposed to work here. But that’s the thi

The safehouse wasn’t what Frank expected, It wasn’t a remote cabin or a hidden bunker. It was a laundromat, a run-down, 24-hour facility two blocks away from the MorganTech Tower.Faded signs. Flickering bulbs. The kind of place nobody noticed, because nobody cared. Which made it perfect.Ella punched in a code on the machine marked “Out of Order”. It buzzed, clicked, and slowly swung open, not to reveal a drum, but a narrow staircase leading downward.Frank hesitated. “This feels like something out of a spy movie.”She gave him a tight smile. “Welcome to real life. Now move.”They descended into dim light and silence. The walls were lined with old server racks and dusty shelves. At the far end sat a worn leather couch, a mini-fridge, and several monitors displaying live security feeds from inside MorganTech.Frank turned to her. “You’ve been spying on them.”“Not them. Him.” She tapped one of the screens where Grant Bishop sat in his corner office, alone, staring at a blank wall.“Wh

Frank Ashford’s fingers hovered above the terminal in his temporary office. His mind wasn’t just racing—it was strategizing. Fast.Seven days.That was all the time he had left according to IRIS- seven days until termination. A quiet death masked as a systems glitch. A purge, He wasn’t just caught in a corporate war, He was the target, And no one survived the Ashfall Protocol.He pulled out a small notepad paper, not digital. Something untraceable.Step one: Track who in the building had access to IRIS in the last 90 days.Step two: Cross-reference that with anyone who voted to approve the current AI directive.Step three: Identify who placed him on the promotion list.He already had one name: Jonathan Dale. But Dale was fading, an old man surrounded by sharks. If Frank wanted to win, he needed more than sympathy, He needed leverage.Meanwhile, on the 38th floor…Ella Morgan stared down at the company directory on her stolen tablet. It was heavily encrypted, but her father had taught

Ella trembled in Frank’s arms, The cold of cryostasis hadn’t left her body, and her breath came in short, shaky bursts. Her skin was pale, her eyes glassy, but alive.Frank held her tightly as Devlin stood guard by the vault door, gun in one hand, pulse scanner in the other.“We have five minutes before this place resets its lockdown,” Devlin said. “After that, the floor goes into full isolation mode. No doors open. No signals out.”Frank nodded, brushing a damp strand of hair from Ella’s forehead. “We’re getting out. Stay with me.”Ella tried to speak, but only one word came through. “Rhine…”Frank looked toward the second pod, the one that had haunted Ella’s research. Inside it, Victor Rhine, eyes closed, heart steady, frozen by the very system he helped build. “What about him?” Frank asked.Ella gripped his arm. “He knows… everything. My father… trusted him.”Frank looked at Devlin, Devlin groaned. “Oh no. Nope. No way.”“We have ninety seconds,” Frank said. “That’s exactly why we

The world did more than watch. It exploded, Frank Ashford’s face was on every screen. His voice echoed in boardrooms and back alleys alike. And for the first time in MorganTech’s spotless, gleaming history…doubt spread like fire. 8:00 a.m. – News Feed Spiral“BREAKING: IRIS AI Used to Silence Whistleblowers!”“MorganTech Allegedly Froze Disloyal Employees in Secret Sublevel.”“From Janitor to Hero? The Truth Behind Frank Ashford’s Promotion.”“Is IRIS Sentient? Leaked Footage Suggests Darker Purpose.”TV stations scrambled to verify the data. But before they could respond, the public already had.In an hour, over 12 million people had viewed the Summit interruption. #Ashfall trended globally. Protesters gathered at MorganTech HQ. Hackers launched sympathy strikes. Anonymous whistleblowers emerged from other firms.And for the first time, Grant Bishop was forced into hiding. In the hideout…Frank leaned over Ella, watching her fingers fly across the keyboard. She was restoring connect