Page 1 of Stripe for the Picking
ONE
WREN
The afternoon sunlight shone brightly through the coffee shop's windows and cast golden rectangles across Wren's laptop screen. She squinted at the code scrolling past, her fingers tapping across the keyboard with practiced precision. Croissant crumbs decorated the wooden table near her caramel latte, forgotten casualties of her intense focus.
"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, pushing a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear.
You foolish man, how did you manage to click on 'Congratulations! You've won a million dollars!' and actually enter your banking information?
Her client's voice came through her headphones, nervous and apologetic. "I thought it was legitimate?—"
"Mr. Jones, the email address was 'Vermont-Offishul-Prize-Departmant.' With two misspellings." Wren's fingers flew across the keys, isolating the malicious code that had frozen his entire system. "But hey, I am usually saving people from their own bad passwords, and they don't even know what the problem is, so this is a bit more straightforward."
She guided him through the cleanup process with patient professionalism, her voice warm despite her internal eye-rolling. The poor man had inadvertently given hackers access to everything from his grocery delivery account to his tax records. Wren had seen worse, but not by much.
Twenty minutes later, she ended the call and immediately opened FaceTime. Her best friend Mallory's familiar face soon filled the screen, her blonde curls bouncing as she leaned closer to her camera.
"Please tell me you're calling with news of wild adventure or scandalous romance," Mallory said without preamble. "Because I can still see that look in your eyes, the same 'I-just-fixed-another-person's-digital-disaster' expression you've been wearing for months."
Wren slumped back in her chair, the wood creaking softly. "Worse. I just spent an hour explaining to a sixty-year-old man why you shouldn't click on a link saying you've won a million dollars."
"Tragic." Mallory's grin was wicked. "Though I notice you're in actual sunlight for once instead of your cave of computer screens. That's progress."
"Don't get too excited. I needed caffeine and carbs." Wren gestured at her surroundings. "Same old routine, different location. Fix other's problems, collect payment, repeat until death."
The words tasted bitter, more so than her cooling latte. She watched people pass by the window—couples holding hands, friends laughing, everyone seeming to move with purpose while she remained stationary.
"You know what your problem is?" Mallory leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Enlighten me, oh wise one."
"You're insanely brilliant, drop dead gorgeous, and completely wasting away in digital purgatory. When's the lasttime you did something that made your heart race? And I don't mean debugging code."
Wren's laugh held no humor. "My heart races plenty, thank you. Usually when I realize how close my clients come to financial ruin."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Mallory's expression softened. "Wren, you're thirty-two. Don't you want more than this endless cycle of fixing other people's mistakes?"
The question hit harder than intended. Wren stared at her reflection in the laptop screen, seeing the truth she'd been avoiding. "Every day. I wake up wondering if this is it—if I'm going to spend the rest of my life being the woman who swoops in to save the day but never gets to live her own adventure."
"So do something about it."
"Like what? My parents have basically written me off because I chose 'hacking' over a traditional career path." Wren made air quotes, her voice growing sharper. "They call maybe twice a year to ask when I'm going to find a nice man, settle down, and produce grandchildren. As if my entire worth is measured by my ability to procreate."
"Your parents are idiots."
"Harsh but accurate." Wren picked at a croissant crumb. "They think my job is just playing on computers all day. They don't understand that I'm actually protecting people and that what I do matters."
"It does matter. But that doesn't mean it's your only purpose."
Wren met her friend's eyes through the screen. "I keep feeling like there's something bigger out there waiting for me. Something that would make all these years of searching for my true calling feel worthwhile. Does that sound completely insane?"
"It sounds human." Mallory paused. "But what about love? Romance? Someone to share the adventure with?"
"Please." Wren's laugh was sharp. "Every man I've dated either gets intimidated by my brain or assumes I'm some kind of emotionless computer myself. Apparently, intelligence and passion can't coexist in the same woman."
"Their loss."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just not built for that kind of thing." Wren's voice grew quieter. "I'm all brain, not enough heart, remember? That's what Trevor said before he decided my IQ was emasculating."
