Chapter one
Violet
I could strangle Seb right now.
Every damn time I’m presenting, he does this—sits there with that sparkle in his eye, like he’s just thought of the funniest joke. He knows I’m on the verge of breaking. Collapsing into immature laughter. It's like when someone delivers terrible news, and your first instinct is to laugh because you know it’s the absolute worst thing you could do.
This is an important meeting—probably the most important of my career so far, as a junior software developer at Knightwell Technology, a major powerhouse in the tech industry. And I swear, if Seb so much as winks at me right now, I’m gone.
To make matters worse, Austen Wells, our Chief Technical Officer and second in command to the CEO, is here, his piercing gaze only piling on the pressure. I try to conceal my trembling hand as I click on the last slide, relief flooding me I’m almost done.
“Thank you for your time,” I say, pasting on a polite smile, doing everything in my power to block Seb out of my peripheral vision. “That’s why I believe the modifications we’ve made to the code will have a significant impact, improving detection accuracy and efficiency across the board.” I click out of the presentation and glance at Mark, our team leader, for confirmation that I can sit down. He gives me a tight nod before leaping to his feet, ready to resume his overzealous charm offensive on Austen.
“Thank you, Violet,” Mark says, his voice slipping into the smarmy tone he reserves for senior executives.
“Actually, before you sit down... it’s Violet, isn’t it?” My pulse spikes at the sound of Austen’s quiet, authoritative voice. “I have a question for you.”
I meet Austen’s steely gaze head-on, willing myself to radiate confidence, even though my heart’s pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I can’t tell if the look of astonished disbelief creasing his forehead is good or bad.
“Of course, Mr. Wells,” I say, clutching my laptop so tightly it’s a wonder the screen doesn’t crack.
“I’d be happy to address any concerns you have,” Mark interjects, practically bulldozing me aside in his rush to regain control.
Mark’s been on edge all week, building up to this meeting. I mean, he usually operates like he’s got a rod up his ass, but lately, his micromanagement has been off-the-charts.
Not without reason—this project is worth millions of dollars, and Knightwell Technology is leading the pack in securing a contract with a global bank to create AI-based software that detects financial fraud. A deal that could make or break someone’s career.
“Violet,” Austen repeats, ignoring Mark, his focus locked on me. “That was impressive.”
Mark slinks back into his seat, visibly deflated, his tail tucked firmly between his legs.
My ego does a triple backflip. Praise from the tech genius and co-founder of Knightwell Technology is a rare commodity.
“I’m curious,” he continues. “You’ve coded the system to identify patterns of behavior across multiple transactions. That’s a different approach. How did you teach it to prioritize behaviors over isolated data points?”
I force myself to take a calming breath before answering. “I focused on how behaviors connect over time—like timing, locations, and amounts. It lets the system spot trends that match money laundering tactics instead of flagging isolated transactions.”
It’s an idea I’ve been percolating for a while, and recently, it clicked into place.
Austen considers that for a beat, then gives a slight, thoughtful nod.
“Interesting. You might have given us the edge we need, Violet. That we be all, thank you.”
I nod, cheeks flushing with pride despite my best efforts.
“Well, the framework was solid,” Mark cuts in with a tight smile as I return to my seat. “We’ve been refining it as ateamfor months.”
Seb smirks as I collapse into the chair next to him. “Yeah, refining Mark’s mess,” he whispers.
“And who originally coded that prioritization model?” Austen asks, his tone sharp. “Was it part of the framework from the beginning?”
Mark freezes, clearly caught off guard. “Ah, well, it... it was a collaborative effort,” he hedges, his words dripping with forced cheerfulness.
“It was Violet,” Seb blurts, his voice clear and unwavering, earning a withering glare from Mark. “She cracked it.”
Austen’s lips curve into a faint smile, his shrewd gaze lingering on me. “Impressive,” he repeats, this time with a weight that sends my confidence soaring.
I murmur a quiet “thank you,” my eyes bugging out at Seb, who mouths, “What?”.
