Hours had bled into an agonizing eternity since the doctor last emerged from the sterile abyss of the hospital ward to update Joshua on his wife’s fragile condition.
The phone felt like a lead weight in Joshua Bennet’s trembling hand as he punched in the number for Corpux’s insurance hotline. Around him, the hospital’s sterile hum buzzed like a swarm of locusts — machines beeping, distant footsteps clacking, a world indifferent to the chaos tearing through his soul. Papers from the accident report lay scattered across the scratched plastic table beside him, their cold facts mocking his pain: Emily in critical care, his children hollow-eyed with trauma, a drunk driver’s reckless swerve rewriting their lives in an instant. He pressed the receiver to his ear, his breath shallow, ragged, as the line clicked to life.
A voice answered — crisp, detached, a woman who sounded like she’d recited this script a thousand times. “Corpux Insurance Services, this is Linda speaking. How may I assist you today?”
Joshua swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. “This is Joshua Bennet. My wife — Emily Bennet — she’s in the hospital. There was a car accident. I need to know what’s happening with our claim. File number 784–3921. Please.”
A pause, the faint clatter of a keyboard. Linda’s tone didn’t waver, smooth as glass. “One moment, Mr. Bennet, while I pull up your file.” More typing, an eternity compressed into seconds. “Alright, I have it here. I see the claim was submitted yesterday following a vehicular incident. Can you confirm the details?”
“Confirm the details?” His voice cracked, a brittle edge creeping in. “A drunk driver slammed into my wife’s car at 60 miles an hour. She’s got broken ribs, a punctured lung — she’s fighting to breathe right now. My kids were in the backseat, and they’re — they’re shattered. That’s the ‘vehicular incident.’ Does that confirm it for you?”
Linda’s response came unflinching, a bureaucratic wall. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Bennet. I’ve noted that. Now, regarding your claim, it appears we’re still in the preliminary stages — ”
“Preliminary stages?” Joshua cut in, his grip tightening on the phone until his knuckles whitened. “I don’t have time for stages! I’ve been paying premiums to Corpux for years — hundreds every month, straight out of my paycheck. I’ve given you people everything, and now my family’s falling apart. I need that money now — today — to cover the hospital bills, to get my kids somewhere safe. What are you doing about it?”
Another pause, a faint sigh barely audible over the line. “I understand this is a difficult time, Mr. Bennet,” Linda said, her voice softening just enough to hint at rehearsed empathy. “But according to our policy, in accidents involving third-party liability, we can only offer partial coverage until the investigation into fault is complete. At this stage, we’re authorizing 10% of the estimated damages.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Ten percent?” His voice rose, incredulous, teetering on the edge of a shout. “Ten percent of what? The hospital’s already billing me thousands — tens of thousands! My wife’s hooked up to machines just to stay alive, and you’re telling me you’re tossing me a few crumbs and calling it help?”
“Mr. Bennet, I’m sorry, but it’s standard procedure,” Linda replied, her tone flattening again, retreating behind protocol. “The third-party driver’s insurance and legal status need to be verified. These investigations can take weeks, sometimes months, depending on the complexity — ”
“Weeks? Months?” Joshua’s laugh was sharp, bitter, a sound that clawed its way out of him. “You think I can wait months? .My wife might not make it through the week, and you’re sitting there reading me a rulebook like this is some game? I trusted Corpux — I’ve bled for you people!”
“I do sympathize, sir,” Linda said, and for a fleeting moment, her voice wavered, as if his anguish had pierced her script. “I can escalate this to a supervisor if you’d like. There might be an emergency fund we can tap into — ”
“Escalate it? Emergency fund?” Hope flickered in his chest, fragile as a candle in a storm. “Yes — yes, do that. Please. I’m begging you, Linda. I’ve got nothing left here. I need something — anything — to hold onto.”
“Hold on, Mr. Bennet,” she said, and the line went silent, a muted void that stretched his nerves taut. He paced the small waiting area, the phone cord twisting around his arm like a lifeline. Seconds bled into minutes, each one a hammer blow to his fragile composure. He could almost see it — a glimmer of relief, a way to breathe again.
The line clicked back to life. “Mr. Bennet, this is Linda again. I spoke with my supervisor. Unfortunately, the emergency fund doesn’t apply in cases pending investigation. The 10% is the maximum we can release at this time. We’ll update you as soon as the investigation progresses.”
The flicker of hope snuffed out, leaving a cold, hollow ache. “You’re kidding me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re actually kidding me. I’ve given Corpux my life — late nights, weekends, my sanity — and this is what I get? Fine print and excuses? A drunk driver did this, not me! Not my family! Why am I the one paying for it?”
“Sir, I wish I could do more,” Linda said, and now there was a crack in her facade, a hint of genuine regret. “It’s out of my hands. The policy — ”
“The policy,” Joshua snarled, the word a curse. “Your policy can burn in hell. You tell your supervisor — tell Corpux — they’ve lost more than a claim today. They’ve lost me.” His voice shook with a fury so raw it scorched his throat. “I hope you sleep well tonight, Linda, knowing you’ve left a family to drown.”
“Mr. Bennet — ” she started, but the words were swallowed by the deafening crash of the phone slamming down. The sound ricocheted through the empty corridor, a gunshot of rage and despair. Joshua stood there, chest heaving, hands trembling, the weight of betrayal crashing over him like a tidal wave.
Corpux hadn’t just failed him — they’d abandoned him, and the wound felt personal, a blade twisted deep into his trust, his life, his everything. He’d given them everything: late nights hunched over code, weekends sacrificed to deadlines, his loyalty forged in the fires of their relentless demands. And now, when the world had cracked open beneath him, they were failing him with a coldness that cut deeper than betrayal.
That night, after the hospital’s fluorescent glare had faded into memory, Joshua returned home. The nanny, a kind-eyed woman with a weary smile, had finally coaxed his children into a fitful sleep on a sagging pull-out couch. Their small faces, streaked with dried tears, haunted him as he tucked threadbare blankets around them. Emily lingered in his mind too — pale and motionless in her hospital bed, a ghost of the woman he’d sworn to protect. The weight of it all pressed down on him, a suffocating shroud, until something snapped — not with a sound, but with a quiet, dangerous resolve.
He retreated to the dim corner of the living room, where his battered laptop hummed to life. The screen’s blue glow cast jagged shadows across his face, illuminating the hollows beneath his eyes. As a software engineer who’d spent nearly a decade at Corpux, Joshua was familiar enough with their systems. If their insurance division wouldn’t lift a finger to save his family, he’d pry the truth from their digital guts himself. His fingers flew across the keys, a rhythm born of muscle memory and desperation, as he slipped past the first layer of security protocols. Once he got access to the correct repository, a massive monorepo he started digging.
Lines of code cascaded down the screen, a torrent of cryptic symbols that would’ve been gibberish to most but sang to him like a dark symphony. Hours bled into days — two sleepless nights fueled by black coffee and a gnawing fury that kept exhaustion at bay. His children’s soft whimpers from the next room pierced the silence, each sound a spur driving him onward. He pulled up the insurance validation algorithm — a sprawling, monstrous construct of logic and mathematics, its tendrils woven from game theory and the cold precision of machine learning. It was a masterpiece of design, and it terrified him. It was there in plane sight, but nobody, at least yet, have had the resolve to sit down and understand this monstrosity. “I guess this is why everyone hates legacy code” — he muttered.
Joshua leaned closer, the screen’s light etching lines of strain into his face as he traced the algorithm’s functions. His mutterings filled the air, a low litany of disbelief. “No… this can’t be right. The way this is weighted…” His voice faltered, then hardened as the pieces locked into place. “It’s like they’re deliberately denying claims from low-income policyholders. This isn’t a glitch — it’s a feature.”
He dug deeper with an overly cautious mind, he didn’t have access to the production database but with a fair estimation of the monthly active users given the websites current traffic, the percentages of where that traffic was originated from and the logs from the caching system, the truth almost crystallized with brutal clarity. Over 95% of Corpux’s insurance portfolio was drawn from mid- to low-income communities — people like him, lured in by glossy promises of security. The ads flashed through his memory: billboards looming over crumbling neighborhoods, radio jingles chirping about “insurance for the average Joe,” predatory campaigns sinking hooks into vulnerable families with nowhere else to turn. Affordable plans, they’d called them, marketed as a lifeline for the working class. He’d bought in, hook, line, and sinker, trusting Corpux to have his back as part of his employment contract. They made it look so appealing even do past offers he had rejected in the past offered juicier salaries, nothing “apparently” compared to the insurance package for him and his family. It was a well designed trap, even for a smart guy like him.
Then he saw the other side of the equation — the remaining 5%. High-income elites: billionaires with private islands, executives with penthouse suites, oligarchs insuring yachts longer than city blocks, sprawling estates, and gleaming private jets. Their premiums were laughably low — pocket change for their gilded lives — while their claims sailed through with greased efficiency, payouts delivered in days, not months. Joshua’s stomach churned as the algorithm’s purpose snapped into focus, a revelation so vile it stole the breath from his lungs.
It was a wealth transfer, a machine of ruthless elegance. Premiums extracted from the many — thousands of families like his, scraping by paycheck to paycheck — funneled upward to fund the lavish indemnities of the few. The algorithm didn’t just delay or deny claims like his; it was engineered to do so, with thresholds and variables skewed to favor the elite. A drunk driver’s chaos had landed Emily in the hospital, but Corpux’s system saw her as a liability to be minimized, her suffering reduced to a decimal point in a profit equation. Human lives — his life, his children’s futures — were nothing more than data points, variables to be manipulated for maximum yield.
Joshua sat back, his hands trembling not with fatigue but with a rage that burned white-hot. The screen glowed accusingly, a mirror reflecting Corpux’s betrayal in cold, unblinking code. And all the while, they’d been siphoning his trust, his money, his hope, to pad the pockets of men who’d never know his name. His whisper cut through the stillness, sharp as a blade: “You bastards. You absolute bastards.”
The realization wasn’t just a discovery — it was a call to war. Corpux hadn’t just failed him; they’d preyed on him, on everyone like him, with a calculated cruelty that mocked their glossy slogans. Joshua’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing.
The next morning, Joshua stormed into the sleek Corpux headquarters, the weight of his discovery fueling every determined step. In his pocket, a USB drive held the damning evidence he’d uncovered: data proving the company’s insurance algorithm was a predatory machine, engineered to exploit low-income policyholders — 95% of Corpux’s customer base — to funnel benefits to the elite 5%. The headquarters rose before him, a towering monolith of glass and steel, its polished surfaces gleaming under the morning sun. Joshua’s rumpled clothes and haggard face marked him as an outsider in this pristine world, but he didn’t care.
Inside, the lobby thrummed with corporate efficiency. Employees in sharp suits moved like drones, their polished shoes clicking against the marble floor, their expressions blank with practiced neutrality. Joshua’s presence disrupted the rhythm — an unshaven man with dark circles under his eyes, his jaw set tight with purpose. He marched to the reception desk, where a young woman with a headset and a tight smile looked up, her gaze flickering over him with faint judgment.
“I need to see Ryan Thompson,” Joshua said, his voice low and unyielding.
Her smile didn’t waver, but her tone was clipped. “I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Thompson is in meetings all day. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Joshua replied, his hand tightening around the USB in his pocket. “But this is urgent. It’s about the insurance algorithm. He’ll want to hear this.”
The receptionist hesitated, her practiced facade cracking. Something in Joshua’s intensity must have registered, because after a moment, she picked up the phone. Her voice dropped to a hushed murmur, and Joshua stood there, heart pounding, as she negotiated his fate. Finally, she looked back at him, her expression unreadable. “Mr. Thompson will see you in his office. Take the elevator to the top floor.”
The elevator ride was a silent climb, the hum of machinery a faint backdrop to the storm raging inside him. His palms were slick with sweat, and he wiped them on his jeans, trying to steady his nerves. The walls of the elevator reflected his weary face — eyes shadowed by sleepless nights, mouth a hard line of resolve. As the doors opened, he stepped into a corridor lined with awards and accolades, Corpux’s triumphs framed in gold under soft lights. They mocked him now, a gallery of hollow victories built on the backs of people like him.
Ryan Thompson’s office awaited at the end of the hall, its door ajar. Joshua pushed through without knocking. The space was a testament to power: floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sprawling view of the city, glass walls creating an illusion of openness. But to Joshua, it felt suffocating, the air thick with the weight of unspoken hierarchies. Ryan stood behind his desk, a tall man with silver hair and a commanding presence. His sharp, calculating eyes met Joshua’s with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
“Joshua,” Ryan said, his voice smooth but guarded. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked face to face.”
“This isn’t a social call, Ryan,” Joshua shot back, remaining on his feet despite Ryan’s gesture to a chair. “You know why I’m here.”
Ryan sighed, rubbing his temples, a flicker of weariness breaking through his polished exterior. “I do. And I’m sorry it’s come to this. You’ve been with us a long time, Joshua. I value your work, your dedication.”
“Then prove it,” Joshua said, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. He pulled the USB from his pocket and thrust it toward Ryan. “I found something disturbing about our insurance algorithm. It’s designed to exploit low-income policyholders — 95% of your customers — to benefit the elite 5%. Look at this.”
Ryan took the drive, his brow furrowing as he plugged it into his computer. The screen flickered to life, displaying the cold, hard truth: lines of code, statistical models, and data points that painted a picture of systemic exploitation. Joshua watched as Ryan’s face tightened, the lines around his mouth deepening with each passing second.
“What?” Ryan muttered, almost to himself. “That can’t be.” His eyes darted across the screen, widening as the reality sank in. “Jesus, Joshua, this is serious. I had no idea this was happening.”
Joshua’s heart pounded, a mix of vindication and disbelief surging through him. “You’re telling me you didn’t know? I’ve been loyal to this company for years, Ryan.”
Ryan looked up, his expression a storm of shock and something that might have been guilt. “I swear, I didn’t. This… this is unacceptable. Thank you for bringing this to me. I’ll look into it immediately. Who’s behind this? I need to know.” His voice hardened, a flicker of the CEO’s authority returning. “Please, keep this between us for now. If this gets out before I can act, it could spiral.”
Joshua hesitated, the weight of his discovery pressing down on him like a physical force. He wanted to believe Ryan — needed to believe. “Fine,” he said, his voice tight. “But what about my family? The insurance claim — my wife’s in the hospital, Ryan. My kids are traumatized. I can’t wait any longer.”
Ryan nodded quickly, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I’ll handle it personally. No more delays. You shouldn’t have to wait after what you’ve been through. I’ll make sure your claim is processed today.”
Relief washed over Joshua, a fragile wave that eased the tension in his shoulders, if only slightly. “Thank you, Ryan. I just want this fixed — for everyone.”
Ryan unplugged the USB and offered it back, but Joshua shook his head. “Keep it. It’s the only copy. I trust you to do the right thing.”
As he turned to leave, the glass walls reflected his weary but determined face, the city stretching out beneath him like a world waiting to be remade. Handing over the USB — his only proof — felt like relinquishing a piece of himself, but maybe Corpux wasn’t rotten to the core. Maybe Ryan could cut out the corruption and make it right. Joshua clung to that hope, thin as it was, as he stepped back into the elevator, the doors closing on the empire he’d once believed in.
But as the elevator descended, a shadow of doubt crept in, cold and persistent. He’d given up his leverage to a man whose world thrived on power and profit. The glass walls of Corpux might have seemed transparent, but Joshua knew better now — some truths were buried deeper, behind barriers no one could see.
That evening, Joshua drove to the hospital, the weight on his shoulders noticeably lighter than it had been in weeks. The setting sun painted the city in a warm, golden hue, its rays streaming through the windshield and casting a soft amber glow across the car’s interior. For the first time since Emily’s accident, the tight knot of tension in his chest had begun to unravel, giving way to a cautious hope. His meeting with Ryan, the CEO, had gone better than he’d dared to imagine — a small but significant step toward justice after the relentless darkness that had engulfed their lives. As he steered through the familiar streets, the world outside felt less suffocating, the air less heavy with despair.
He pulled into the visitor’s lot and stepped out into the cool evening air, the faint hum of traffic fading as he crossed the threshold of the hospital’s sliding glass doors. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic hit him immediately, a stark contrast to the warm sunset he’d left behind. The hospital had become a reluctant second home over the past few weeks, its fluorescent-lit hallways and the distant beeping of machines as familiar to him now as the rhythm of his own breath. But tonight, the clinical atmosphere carried a different weight — it felt less like a cage and more like a sanctuary, a place where Emily was slowly clawing her way back to him.
Joshua took the elevator to the third floor, his footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet corridor as he approached her room. The door stood slightly ajar, and he hesitated for a heartbeat, drawing a steadying breath before pushing it open. The room inside was bathed in soft, dim light, the blinds half-drawn to mute the last traces of daylight. Emily lay in her bed, her petite frame nearly swallowed by the crisp white sheets, her face pale and drawn but softened by a quiet peace. An IV drip hung beside her, its steady drip and the rhythmic beep of the monitor a constant undercurrent in the stillness. Yet, when she turned her head and saw him framed in the doorway, her eyes sparked with a warmth that pierced through the room’s cold sterility.
He crossed to her side in a few quick strides, the exhaustion etched into his bones momentarily forgotten as he sank into the chair beside her bed. His hand found hers instinctively, her fingers cool and fragile yet clinging to his with a subtle strength that made his chest tighten. He noticed the faint tremble in his own hands, a lingering sign of the strain he’d carried for weeks, but her touch steadied him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken emotion. “How are you feeling?”
Emily’s lips curved into a soft smile, pale but radiant with affection. “Better, now that you’re here,” she whispered, her voice still frail but threaded with warmth. Her gaze roamed his face, lingering on the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the lines of worry carved into his brow. “You look tired, Josh. Have you been sleeping?”
He let out a small, rueful chuckle, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Not much. But I’m okay. How are you really feeling? Any better today?”
She shifted slightly, a faint wince crossing her features as the movement pulled at her injuries, but she nodded. “A little stronger, I think. The doctors say I’m improving, but it’s slow.” Her eyes flicked to the monitors beside her, then back to him, searching. “How are things with the insurance? Did you hear anything?”
Joshua’s chest tightened at the question, the memory of his tense exchange with Ryan surging to the forefront of his mind. But this time, it came with a flicker of relief. “I talked to Ryan, the CEO,” he said, keeping his tone steady. “He promised to help. He’s going to make sure our claim is processed right away. It should be sorted out soon.”
Emily’s eyes widened, a flash of disbelief giving way to a wave of relief that softened her features. “Really? Oh, thank God. I was so worried.” Her voice quivered, and she blinked rapidly as tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t know how we were going to manage, with the bills piling up and everything…”
Leaning forward, Joshua brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead with his free hand, his touch tender. “Don’t worry about that anymore,” he said softly. “It’s going to be okay. Ryan gave me his word, and I believe him. The kids are safe with the nanny, and we’ll get through this. I promise.”
Tears slipped down Emily’s cheeks, but her smile held, her grip on his hand tightening as if anchoring herself to his words. “You’ve been so strong, Josh. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He swallowed hard, his throat burning with the weight of his own emotions. “You’re the strong one,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re fighting so hard, Em. I’m just trying to keep up.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, the steady beeping of the monitors fading into the background as their eyes locked. The room seemed to shrink around them, the harsh edges of the hospital melting away until it was just the two of them, tethered by their shared gaze. For the first time in weeks, Joshua felt a flicker of peace settle over him — a quiet certainty that, no matter the battles ahead, they would face them together.
Emily broke the silence first, her voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. “Do you remember that summer we took the kids to the lake? When Sarah caught her first fish, and Ben was so jealous he tried to jump in after it?”
A genuine laugh escaped Joshua, the memory warming him from within. “Yeah, and he nearly tipped the boat over. I had to grab him by the shirt to keep him from going overboard.”
Emily’s laugh was weak but bright, a sound that filled the room with a fleeting lightness. “He was so proud of himself, even though he didn’t catch anything. And Sarah— she was beaming for days.”
“She still talks about it,” Joshua said, his smile softening. “She drew a picture of it yesterday — a little stick figure holding a giant fish. She wanted me to bring it to you.”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Did you?”
He nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it with care, revealing a crayon drawing of a sunny lake scene — a lopsided boat, a stick-figure Sarah, and a fish nearly as big as she was. Emily’s breath caught as she took it in, her fingers brushing over the wobbly lines with a reverence that made Joshua’s heart ache.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Tell her I love it. And tell Ben I’ll be home soon to take him fishing again.”
Joshua’s throat tightened, but he managed a nod. “I will. They miss you so much, Em. We all do.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I miss them too. But I’m getting better, Josh. I can feel it. I’ll be home soon.”
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he breathed in the faint scent of her hair beneath the antiseptic. “I know you will,” he murmured. “And when you are, we’ll go back to that lake. All of us.”
Emily’s smile widened, but her eyelids began to droop, exhaustion tugging at her fragile frame. “I’d like that,” she murmured, her voice fading as sleep pulled her under.
Joshua settled back into the chair, still cradling her hand as her breathing slowed and deepened. The room grew still, the soft hum of machinery and the rustle of sheets the only sounds breaking the quiet. He watched her for a long while, his heart swelling with a potent mix of love and resolve. The road ahead remained uncertain — bills, recovery, the lingering shadow of betrayal from Corpux — but in this moment, in this small, dimly lit room, they had carved out a fragile peace.
As the night deepened, Joshua leaned forward, resting his head on the edge of the bed, his fingers still entwined with hers. The flicker of hope he’d felt earlier had grown into a steady flame, a quiet determination to see his family through this storm. He closed his eyes, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors lulling him into a light doze. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispered into the stillness, a promise to her and to himself. For the first time in weeks, he let himself believe that everything might just turn out okay.
It was nearly midnight when Joshua stepped into the hospital lobby, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind clinging to the fragile peace he’d found during his earlier conversation with Emily. He was ready to head home, to surrender to the pull of sleep and escape the relentless weight of the past few days. The lobby was eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow across the tiled floor. A lone security guard sat slumped by the entrance, his head nodding as he fought off sleep. Joshua’s footsteps echoed softly as he moved toward the exit, each step a small promise of respite.
But as he passed a TV mounted on the wall, its screen flickering with late-night news, the anchor’s voice sliced through the silence like a shard of glass. The words halted him mid-step, rooting him to the spot.
News Anchor: “Breaking news: Corpux CEO Ryan Thompson has been shot. A CCTV video shows a masked vigilante shooting him from behind as he was leaving Corpux offices late at midnight. The bullets were marked with the words ‘delay, deny, depose.’ More details to follow as this story develops.”
Joshua froze, his breath catching in his throat as if the air had turned solid. Ryan — dead? The news hit him like a physical blow, a punch to the gut that left him reeling. His mind struggled to process the words, each syllable crashing against the fragile framework of reality he’d clung to. Just hours ago, he’d sat across from Ryan in his sleek office, handing over a USB drive loaded with damning evidence — the insurance algorithm’s corrupt playbook. Ryan had promised to look into it, to fix the systemic exploitation Joshua had uncovered. And now, he was gone, gunned down in the dead of night.
His eyes locked onto the screen, where grainy CCTV footage looped relentlessly: a hooded figure, face obscured by shadow, raising a gun and firing at Ryan’s back as he approached his car. The CEO collapsed in a heap, lifeless, while the vigilante melted into the darkness. The camera zoomed in on the shell casings scattered across the pavement, each one etched with the words delay, deny, depose. Joshua’s stomach lurched, a sickening wave of nausea rising as the phrase burned into his consciousness. Those words — they weren’t random. They were the exact tactics he’d exposed in Corpux’s algorithm: delay claims, deny payouts, depose the vulnerable. It was the blueprint of greed he’d entrusted to Ryan, and now it was carved into the bullets that had stolen his life.
The realization crashed over him like a tidal wave. Someone else knew. Someone else had seen the same corruption he’d uncovered — or worse, had acted on it with ruthless precision. A vigilante? The idea was absurd, yet there they were on the screen, a phantom wielding justice with a gun. But why Ryan? Had he been targeted because of the data Joshua had given him? Had his promise to investigate been a facade, or had he been silenced before he could act? The questions swirled in Joshua’s mind, each one sharper than the last, cutting through the fog of shock.
He whispered to himself, his voice trembling in the empty lobby, “Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into?” The words slipped out, a quiet plea lost in the sterile hum of the hospital. His chest tightened, a vise clamping around his lungs as his breathing quickened, shallow and erratic. Panic clawed at him, its icy fingers wrapping around his throat. The hospital’s clinical glow, once a symbol of safety, now felt suffocating, the walls pressing in as if to trap him in this nightmare.
Stumbling toward the exit, Joshua pushed through the automatic doors, the night air hitting him like a slap — crisp, cold, and unyielding. He gasped, drawing in ragged breaths as he leaned against the hospital’s brick wall, his hands trembling uncontrollably. The parking lot stretched out before him, dimly lit by flickering streetlights, every shadow a potential threat, every distant noise a footstep closing in. His mind raced, spiraling into a storm of fear and paranoia. Was this my fault? The question gnawed at him, relentless and accusing. He’d handed Ryan the evidence, his only copy, trusting him to handle it. What if that meeting had painted a target on Ryan’s back? What if Joshua had unwittingly set this chain of violence in motion?
The vigilante’s message — delay, deny, depose — wasn’t just a taunt. It was a mirror, reflecting Corpux’s own tactics back at them with deadly intent. Whoever they were, they knew the truth Joshua had uncovered, and they were willing to kill for it. A chill ran down his spine as the implications sank in. If they’d gone after Ryan, what was stopping them from coming after him next? He was the one who’d dug up the algorithm’s secrets, the one who’d brought it to light. He was a loose end, a liability in a game that had escalated far beyond his control.
Joshua’s thoughts turned to Emily, resting in her hospital bed floors above, fragile and unaware of the chaos erupting outside. His children, safe for now under the nanny’s care, innocent and exposed. They were all tethered to him, all vulnerable because of the truth he’d unearthed. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on him, a crushing burden that threatened to break him. With Ryan dead, he had no allies left at Corpux, no one he could trust. The company’s polished facade hid a rot that ran deep, and now it was spilling into the open, stained with blood.
The vigilante was a mystery, a ghost with a gun and a mission. Were they acting alone, or were they part of something bigger — a network, a reckoning? And what about Corpux itself? If Ryan had been killed to protect the algorithm, that meant someone inside was willing to murder to keep it buried. The stakes had shifted, the ground beneath Joshua’s feet crumbling as the situation spiraled into a conspiracy he could barely comprehend.
He pushed off the wall, his legs unsteady as he staggered toward his car. The parking lot felt like a battlefield, every movement fueled by adrenaline and dread. His hands shook as he fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them before sliding into the driver’s seat and locking the doors with a trembling finger. Gripping the steering wheel, he forced himself to breathe, to slow the frantic pounding of his heart. But the fear wouldn’t let go. It coiled tighter, a serpent in his chest, whispering that he was next, that the vigilante — or whoever pulled the strings — wouldn’t stop with Ryan.
This wasn’t just about insurance anymore. It wasn’t a denied claim or a corrupt system he could quietly expose. It was a life-and-death struggle, a web of violence and retribution that had already claimed one life and left Joshua dangling at its edge. The truth he’d uncovered had ignited a fuse, and now, with Ryan gone, he was alone in the dark, with no idea who — or what — was coming for him next.
Starting the engine, Joshua pulled out of the lot, the hum of the car a faint lifeline in the vast, unforgiving night. The hospital loomed behind him, a silent witness to his unraveling world, as the road ahead stretched into shadows deeper than he’d ever known.
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ETH: "0x33CD7770d3235F97e5A8a96D5F21766DbB08c875",
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ADA: "addr1q9l3y73e82hhwfr49eu0fkjw34w9s406wnln7rk9m4ky5fag8akgnwf3y4r2uzqf00rw0pvsucql0pqkzag5n450facq8vwr5e",
DOT: "1rRDzfMLPi88RixTeVc2beA5h2Q3z1K1Uk3kqqyej7nWPNf",
DOGE: "DRph8GEwGccvBWCe4wEQsWsTvQvsEH4QKH",
DAI: "0x33CD7770d3235F97e5A8a96D5F21766DbB08c875"