Chapter 2: A: The Hidden Slip

👉 Previous Decision: You chose to sneak a written code on a paper note tucked under your thumbnail to read after your shift.

I peeled back the nail of my left thumb, the edge of a tiny paper slip catching on the skin. My fingers trembled slightly in the dim light of the empty breakroom, hours after my shift ended. I had managed to secure it before the memory wipe took hold, a tiny rebellion against the eight-hour void.

I smoothed the crumpled paper on the laminate table. My own handwriting, quick and frantic, covered the surface. It wasn’t the operational tasks I expected, no notes about server maintenance or data transfer.

Instead, a series of long, disjointed numbers stared back at me.

“What is this?” I muttered, my voice thin in the silent room.

One sequence read: `123-456789-01`. Another: `987-654321-09`. There were six such lines, each a string of numbers separated by hyphens. They looked like codes, but for what? Not passwords, not account numbers I recognized.

My head throbbed, a dull ache behind my eyes from the daily severance. I rubbed my temples, trying to force a memory of writing them, of why I chose these particular numbers. Nothing came. Only a faint impression of urgency, a desperate need to capture something vital before it vanished.

I pulled out my phone, a sudden thought striking me. Could they be banking details? Routing numbers, perhaps, or international wire transfer codes? Arthur had always been secretive about his finances, even with Maya. He talked about “Apex’s success” but never specifics.

The numbers felt like a cold stone in my stomach. This wasn’t just some company secret. This felt heavier, like something deeply wrong. I folded the slip carefully and tucked it into my wallet, the paper crinkling under my touch.

I knew I needed help, but who could I trust? Maya was Arthur’s daughter, fiercely loyal, despite our arguments. The idea of approaching her with something this incriminating against her father made my chest tighten. My only other option felt like throwing a message in a bottle.