Now You Beg Me

Chapter 2. Biometric Barricade

“Connection failed. Emergency authorization rejected by core protocol.”

The satellite phone screen flickered red, its dim glow reflecting off Ethan’s pale face, soaked by the rain. The howl of the night wind blended with distant thunder cracking across the sky.

Ethan stared at the lines of red text on the small screen. His breathing came fast, thin vapor escaping into the cold air. His body still trembled violently, the rain having seeped deep into his bones. He wiped the water dripping from his temple with a shaking hand.

He pressed the call button again, his fingers tapping in a rapid sequence of encrypted code. A long ringing tone filled his ears. The line connected on the third ring.

“Hello, sir?” The voice broke the silence beneath the overpass where Ethan had taken temporary shelter.

Victoria never turned off her personal communicator, not even in the dead of night.

“Victoria,” Ethan called, his voice hoarse, his throat raw from the freezing air. “Liquidate the emergency funds from the Apex Capital portfolio now. Transfer them into the general holding account.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Victoria replied without hesitation, her tone steady and professional. “Apex Capital’s high-security system has automatically locked your primary account.”

Ethan frowned, his brows drawing tight. “Locked automatically? What do you mean? I hold absolute voting authority.”

“That is correct, sir. However, the base biometric protocol enforces strict rules,” Victoria explained. “No activity has been detected from your account for ten full years. The system has classified your identity as inactive or at high risk of breach.”

“Remove the restriction from the control center,” Ethan ordered, his voice rising.

“I do not have access to that, sir,” Victoria responded quickly. “The main vault and central server in the underground level are secured by a self-isolation system. To fully unlock everything, you must perform a direct retinal scan at the central vault tomorrow morning.”

Ethan shut his eyes tightly, his jaw clenching hard. He had not expected the advanced security system he designed a decade ago to turn into a trap that locked him out tonight.

“Fine,” Ethan muttered. “When does the central vault open?”

“The vault door responds to physical verification starting at eight in the morning,” Victoria answered. “Do you require an extraction team now, sir? I can dispatch a bulletproof vehicle to your location within ten minutes.”

“Don’t come.” Ethan cut her off immediately. “Do not let anyone know I’ve reactivated this device. I will handle it myself.”

“Understood, sir. Please stay safe.”

The line disconnected, and the satellite phone screen dimmed again. Ethan slipped the valuable device back into the pocket of his soaked coat. Tonight, he truly did not have a single cent on him. His old leather wallet had been thrown to the floor by Robert, along with all his credit cards, each one unilaterally frozen.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

He was stranded in the middle of the city on a stormy night without any cash, his stomach twisting painfully with hunger. He had not eaten anything since the afternoon at the Sterling family house.

Ethan limped out from beneath the overpass. His feet dragged through cold rainwater. He walked along the deserted sidewalk, most of the neon shop lights already dark.

At the end of the street, a flickering blue sign glowed faintly. A twenty-four-hour internet café stood between rows of old, closed shop houses. Its front glass was fogged from the temperature difference between inside and outside. Ethan pushed the door open with the last of his strength. A small bell chimed sharply.

The smell of cheap cigarettes and instant noodles hit him immediately. The room was dim, with only a few customers sitting in computer cubicles, wearing oversized headsets. Most of them appeared asleep, heads slumped onto their desks.

Ethan approached the front counter. A thin young man with bloodshot eyes looked at him suspiciously, taking in Ethan’s drenched appearance and dirty coat.

“How many hours?” the attendant asked, not taking his eyes off his phone.

“Just one. Not for gaming,” Ethan replied flatly.

“Ten dollars upfront,” the attendant said, holding out his hand. “Cash. No credit.”

Ethan reached into his pocket. A few wet coins clinked onto the worn counter. Even after counting, they did not add up to four dollars.

“I don’t have cash,” Ethan said honestly. “Can I use a payment app or a digital card?”

The attendant snorted, scanning Ethan from head to toe. “Don’t joke around. You look like a soaked drifter. Get out before you dirty my floor.”

Ethan leaned forward across the counter. The cold glint in his eyes made the young man hesitate.

“Open cubicle nine,” Ethan said quietly. “Or I’ll tell your boss you’ve been using the night shift cash to gamble online.”

The young man’s face went pale. His fingers froze over the keyboard.

“How… how do you know?”

“Open it now,” Ethan cut in coldly. “Before I call the owner.”

Ethan walked in without wasting another second. He dropped into a peeling synthetic leather chair, ignoring the stale coffee smell and the dull flicker of neon lights around him.

The monitor lit up brightly. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

He would not break into a bank account or make any major move that could trigger satellite tracking systems. His target tonight was much closer.

Sterling Group.

His fingers struck the keys, ignoring their sticky surface. Ethan breached the main port logistics server.

Got it.

A digital manifest appeared on the screen. A steel shipment schedule for Sterling Group’s luxury apartment project, set to depart at five in the morning. The authorization was signed by Liam Sterling.

A faint, cynical smile formed on Ethan’s lips. He slipped several lines of code into the port customs system, changing the cargo status to: “On Hold, Customs Smuggling Investigation.”

A maneuver that simple was enough to choke a multi-million-dollar project before sunrise.

He was still typing when his vision suddenly blurred. Fever began to take hold. Cold sweat mixed with rainwater dripped from his chin as his breathing grew heavier and more uneven.

The screech of wet tires outside made him stop.

Through the fogged glass of the internet café, a pitch-black SUV without license plates rolled to a halt. Its headlights were off. Two men in gray suits stepped out into the rain. Their posture was rigid, efficient, moving with military precision.

When they pushed the door open, a wave of cold air swept into the room. The attendant who had acted so bold earlier now sat frozen in his chair, his face drained of color, not daring to say a word as they passed.

From inside cubicle nine, Ethan’s breath caught. His eyes locked onto a small silver eagle pin on the collars of the men’s suits. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.

They were not Victoria’s trackers.

That was the emblem of the Northern Consortium, a shadow predator that had been trying to devour Apex Capital for the past decade.

“How did they track me this fast?”

One of the men scanned the dim room in seconds. His predatory instinct locked onto the direction immediately. His gaze stopped directly at cubicle nine.

A faint smirk appeared on his lips.

Then his heavy footsteps began moving toward where Ethan was hiding.