Gianna snatched her phone back from Vincent's hands with a sharp motion, her face twisting with contempt. "You're full of shit."Vincent didn't flinch at the vulgarity. His expression remained calm, measured, like someone explaining a simple concept to a stubborn child. "Someone hacked your phone and embedded a dangerous Trojan. That's how the funds are being siphoned from your accounts.""That's impossible," Gianna said flatly, clutching her phone protectively against her chest. "As the CEO of an accounting firm, I use top-of-the-line security for all my devices. Military-grade encryption, multi-factor authentication, the works. It can't be hacked.""Your security is excellent," Vincent admitted readily. "Top-of-the-line, as you said. Very good, actually. But nothing is truly unhackable, Gianna. With enough resources, expertise, and time, any system can be compromised.""No," Gianna shook her head stubbornly. "You're just creating a convenient straw man. Some invisible hacker to blam

Gianna watched this exchange with growing astonishment.This wasn't how a common thief talked. This wasn't how a desperate nobody defended himself.Vincent was systematically dismantling the case against him with the precision of someone who understood legal proceedings intimately."Officer," Vincent continued, addressing the sergeant directly, "under Italian law, you need probable cause to make an arrest. Specifically, you need evidence that I personally committed the crime, not just that a crime occurred involving my identity."The sergeant's discomfort increased visibly. "Sir, the circumstances are highly suspicious—""Suspicious circumstances aren't probable cause," Vincent replied calmly. "They're grounds for investigation, certainly. But not for arrest.""Listen here, you arrogant bastard—" Isabella started."Furthermore," Vincent continued, speaking over Isabella's outburst, "I can prove I was nowhere near any computer or device when these transactions occurred. I have witnesse

The 51st Precinct station house was a utilitarian concrete building that had seen better decades. The rookie officers escorted Vincent through the front entrance, expecting the usual processing routine for a suspect brought in for questioning.What happened instead left them both speechless.The desk sergeant—a weathered veteran named Marco with thirty years on the force—looked up from his paperwork as Vincent entered. His eyes widened in recognition, and he immediately stood at attention."Commander," Marco said with unmistakable respect, his voice carrying across the bullpen.The younger officers froze mid-step, confusion written across their faces."Sergeant Marco," Vincent acknowledged with a slight nod.Within seconds, other senior officers began emerging from their desks and offices. A lieutenant hurried over, his face breaking into a genuine smile. "Sir! We weren't expecting you!""This is informal," Vincent replied calmly.The two rookie officers who'd brought him in stood par

"Not directly," Roberto shook his head. "But I can trace where the data was being sent. Give me a few hours to dig deeper into the routing protocols."Gianna stared at her phone—the device she'd trusted with her entire digital life—seeing it now as a weapon someone had turned against her."How..." she started, then had to clear her throat. "How would someone know this was on my phone? Without running these tests?"Roberto looked thoughtful. "They'd need extensive knowledge of malware signatures, behaviors, and indicators. Or experience with this specific type of Trojan. Why do you ask?""Someone told me my phone was hacked," Gianna admitted. "Before I came here. They described the Trojan almost exactly."Roberto's eyebrows rose. "Then they either know a lot about cybersecurity, or they were involved in installing it.""Or they've dealt with this kind of thing before," Gianna said quietly."That too," Roberto agreed. "Miss Moretti, whoever told you about this—how did they know?"That w

Roberto's office felt smaller with each passing revelation. Gianna sat in the spare chair, her hands gripping the armrests as her IT specialist continued explaining the devastating scope of her compromise."This type of Trojan is specifically a keylogger," Roberto said, pointing to streams of code on his monitor. "It records everything you type—every password, every PIN, every security question answer. Then it transmits that data to a third-party server.""So whoever installed this has been watching everything I do?" Gianna asked, her voice hollow."Essentially, yes," Roberto confirmed. "Every keystroke, every login, every account access—all captured and sent in real-time."A horrible realization crashed over Gianna like a wave. "The passwords. When I changed all my passwords after the first theft...""You used your phone to create the new credentials," Roberto finished grimly. "Which means the Trojan captured them immediately. The hackers had your new passwords before you'd even fini