Page 9 of Deadly Legacy
“We wanted something that could learn from attacks,” Drew added, enthusiasm brightening his voice. “Most systems just react after the damage is done.”
“That’sexactlywhat caught my attention,” Reuben said, leaning forward. “The way it can predict problems before they happen. Have you thought about using this beyond just data centers?”
“We’ve looked into several markets,” Mia interjected, the sharp click of her nails against her tablet punctuating her words. “Banks seem especially interested.”
Reuben nodded. “Of course. I imagine your documentation process must be extensive for compliance reasons.”
“Four redundant systems,” Drew said proudly. “Military-grade protocols.”
“Speaking of documentation,” Reuben carefully kept his tone conversational, “who typically has access to your security architecture specs? I’m curious about your internal controls.”
Stephan’s eyebrows drew together. “Just standard team access. Why?”
“Due diligence,” Reuben replied smoothly. “I’ve seen promising startups lose everything through documentation leaks. Has anyone else requested detailed system information recently? Perhaps another investment group?”
Drew exchanged a quick glance with Stephan—the same fleeting eye contact Reuben had witnessed countless times across poker tables when players bluffed with nothing.
“Wallace Hoyt’s team met with us last week,” Stephan admitted, his index finger drumming briefly against the table before he caught himself and stopped. “They asked a lot of pointed questions about how our surveillance system is implemented.”
A cold knot formed in Reuben’s gut at his father’s name, but his expression remained neutral. “I imagine they did.”
Nikon straightened by the window, shifting his weight as he adjusted his stance. Though he’d barely moved, every head in the room turned toward him momentarily, then back to Reuben.
“Their interest seemed unusual,” Drew blurted, words rushing forward. “They were more focused on infrastructure access points than market potential.”
Reuben let silence fill the room for three calculated seconds. “That’s not surprising. Hoyt Investment Group has different priorities than Matthew Capital.”
“Different how?” Mia pressed, all of a sudden more engaged.
“We want to build your company.” Reuben smiled, all charm, but with eyes that remained sharp. “But they want to use it.”
Stephan placed his palms flat on the table, fingers splayed like he was steadying himself. “Could you elaborate on that?”
“Gladly.” Reuben tapped his forefinger against his watch. “But first, what specific questions did they ask about your surveillance capabilities? The details matter.”
Twenty minutes later, after discussing implementation timelines and answering the founders’ increasingly technical questions, Reuben closed his portfolio with a satisfied nod. The conversation had shifted in their favor after the revelation about Wallace’s unusual focus.
The parking lot lay deserted as they departed Quantize Guard’s offices. Nikon walked beside Reuben, their bodies gravitating toward each other with each step.
“They’re hiding something,” Nikon said once they were in the car, tinted windows creating their private bubble.
Reuben unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back against the leather passenger seat. “Three somethings, at least. Did you catch Drew’s reaction when I mentioned external audits?”
“And Mia’s phone checks.” Nikon’s eyes narrowed. “She kept looking at it. Not random. Maybe someone’s waiting for updates?”
“My father’s people, most likely.” The words felt like gravel in Reuben’s mouth.
Nikon’s hand found Reuben’s knee, a brief squeeze of support before returning to the steering wheel. “You handled them well, though. They were expecting financial intimidation, not conversational chess.”
“Back in my finance program, I was taught to bombard potential partners with projections and market analyses.” Reuben watched the city buildings blur past. “Now I just read the room like it’s a game of five-card stud.”
“Different playing field, same skills.” Nikon’s lips curved upward in one corner. “And that’s why we’re winning.”
The GPS directed them to the suburbs, away from their downtown penthouse. Reuben checked his watch—he’d make itto Grigorii’s before Samuil’s bedtime. The thought warmed him. Visiting Samuil for a game of chess had become a weekly ritual that was as much a part of his life as Matthew Capital’s board meetings.
“Samuil mastered the Sicilian Defense last week,” Reuben said, thumb sliding across his phone calendar. “I promised to teach him the Ruy Lopez today.”
Nikon’s expression softened in a way few people ever witnessed. “My brother’s son hanging on your every word about chess. How our worlds have changed.”
