Page 101 of Only Fools Rush

But if Chiara sent it, it might have to do with Max. And if it had to do with Max, we needed to know what it was.

I couldn’t just sit in my room anymore, staring at my screens, and waiting for data to populate.

One of the cardinal things my foster father taught me about information security and hacking was that if the information didn’t come to you, you had to go get it.

I walked down the city street, collar popped over my neck, with a package tucked under one arm and a clipboard stuffed inside my jacket. I adjusted my hat over my hair and glanced at my reflection in a window. I definitely looked the part, besides the thin garrote wrapped around my wrist. To the untrained eye, it looked like a bracelet, but all I had to do was unravel it for it to become deadly.

I dodged pedestrian traffic, eyes scanning the city block on each side.

The date and time from the text could be anything. It could be nothing. It could be a trap.

But I couldn’t know unless I had more information.

I slowed down, glancing up at the hanging sign.

Vero Construction Inc.

It was time for an in-person visit.

As carefree as if I worked there every single day, I pulled open the door and waltzed inside. The lobby was large and inviting, and I could almost picture a tiny Leona running around the large couches of the seating area, dodging the legs of people waiting. Had she spent time here growing up? Or had her father kept her out of this business, too?

The receptionist at the desk greeted me, a wide smile on her pretty face. “Hello. Who’s it for?”

“Priya Singh,” I responded, passing the package tucked under my arm to her outstretched hand. Then I pulled out the clipboard from inside my jacket and handed it to her. “Sign, please. Can you send it up ASAP? I have a note that it’s an urgent delivery.”

“Of course!” Her tone was chipper. She signed quickly before handing the clipboard back to me. “I’ll have it sent up right away.”

I glanced down at her signature.Lana Nguyen.I smiled. “Lana. It’s a pretty name.”

“Oh!” She smiled back, cheeks coloring pink, as she started fiddling with something on her desk. “Thank you!”

It was a pretty name because it was precisely the name I needed.

She glanced up at me from behind her lashes. If I were Ryuji, I could flirt with her and get the information I needed that way. But I didn’t trust myself or my voice to get through that kind of social torture, nor did I want to.

All I wanted was to see those golden flecks sparkle in Leona’s eyes.

“Well, have a good one,” I replied.

The good news was that I didn’t need to flirt to find out her email address. A stack of business cards sat in a display case on top of the reception desk. I snagged hers and held it up with a smile.L. Nguyen.Perfect.

“Bye!” She giggled, winking as I tucked the business card into my pocket.

I gave a slight wave before I turned around and walked out of the building like I hadn’t just placed the perfect bug.

Back at the penthouse,I typed in Lana Nguyen’s username and password into my duplicate system of Vero Construction Inc’s internal server.

Once I had her email address, all I had to do was run a program to guess her password. It took three minutes before I cracked it. Then I was in.

People look down on receptionists. They think receptionists couldn’t possibly have access to sensitive company information. But what people don’t realize is that receptionists usually have surface-level access to almosteverything. And most of the time, surface-level access was all I needed to hit the gold mine.

“Let’s see what everyone is up to,” I murmured as I pulled up Lana’s email alongside the company directory and calendar. Lana had access to company calendars, which meant I could see all public events and information—dates, times, locations—as well as private calendar blocks.

All I wanted to know was who was busy at the same date and time as Chiara’s message.

Within minutes, I had a list of possible answers, but I needed more.

I typed up an email from Lana Nguyen to Priya Singh, the executive assistant to whom I’d mailed my bug.