Fuck, I love this office. Floor-to-ceiling glass on the nineteenth floor of a midtown skyscraper definitely has a way of making you feel like you’ve made it. And maybe I have. My father might have been sk eptical, but we’ve just received this quarter’s financials and we are definitely going places. I started this company without my old man’s support and without his approval. Without his backing or his checkbook. And I’m already on my way to being worth more than he ever was. I have a knack for investing, for zeroing in on a stock or a company that’s about to take off and getting in at the right time. So do my brothers. So did my father. My point of difference is that I’m providing a service to young investors and taking a cut. The Invested Enterprises platform was designed to have a gaming feel to it. Users create avatars, which they move through the different levels like they’re playing a video game. Information is presented along the way and users have to solve problems and complete tasks and challenges to earn coins. Data is shown with interactive 3 D graphics. Players learn the conc epts as they complete the tasks, and each challenge they complete ranks them higher. There are incentives and cash prizes as they build their portfolios. They can choose to connect with other users and interact as they complete levels. And I take thirteen percent of every penny they make. We now have twenty-seven million of them. Millennials and Gen Zers are competing against their friends. Word of mouth has taken us to crazy heights, not just among serious investors but also college students and teenagers. All those gamers sitting in their bedrooms across America and around the world are hearing about our platform. It’s fun to use. It’s social. They learn how to invest in the stock market and they make money. Sometimes lots of it. We ke ep it as low-risk as possible, making sure beginners are investing only in the safest bets. Many of our users have turned gaming the platform into their full-time jobs and they’re raking in enough cash to easily justify that. We’re making a profit of seven million dollars a day. I’ve been dreaming big for years but that number has exceeded even my wildest expectations. New York was definitely the right place to base Invested Enterprises. We have a young, insanely talented group of coders, designers and finance hotshots from all over the world. We offer the kind of enticements that attract the best of the best. All the cool kids want to work for us. Some of our perks include pool tables, a rooftop patio with an Olympic- sized pool and swim-up bar area, hot tubs, nap pods and a free cafeteria run by several celebrity chefs. One work week of every month is purely “creative.” On these weeks employees can work from wherever they want —from bed, from Paris, from a bar in Key West, it’s up to them. They’re given a travel allowance, and we encourage them to explore and meet people who might be interested in IE. The goal: they recruit users and they present one new idea each month that we can integrate into the game. This incentive is the best we’ve come up with. It gets us incredible talent. And it works. We also own an apartment building and we offer many of our employees a complimentary apartment as part of their package. We offer shares for employees who hit profit goals. All of the above means we get hundreds of applications every day. I’ve hired a full-time recruitment associate whose job is to scour the applications for the stand-outs.
The sun glints off the Empire State Building and I glance up from my desktop, looking out over the city through the floor-to-ceiling walls of windows of my office. My prime view is intentional. The Empire State Building was my father’s favorite New York landmark. The ultimate symbol of power and prestige. I figured if the reminder was front and center every time I looked up, it would remind me how hard I needed to work to make sure this company isn’t just successful—since he never thought it would be—but one of the most profitable in the city. New York was my dad’s favorite place on Earth and it’s where I’ve spent most of my life. A part of me wanted to move as far away from him as possible as I was setting up my business. But staying in Manhattan was the right move. The fact that my brothers stuck around too and wanted a part of what I was building gave me the confidence I needed, that I was making the right decision, even when my father insisted it was a terrible idea that would leave me broke and destitute. As much as I hate to admit it, my father’s insistence that IE was a complete waste of time motivated me like nothing else could have. He might not have built his own company from the ground up, but he ran it successfully for decades, growing the profits exponentially each year he was at the helm. He was the one who taught me everything about business and investments, who schooled me in stocks and shares over science and Shakespeare. If Benjamin Maddox thought my idea was dead in the water, there was a very good chance he was right. But in reality, my father was a dinosaur. What did he know about apps or gaming platforms? The idea of a tech startup was about as alien to him as showing anyone but my oldest brother Alexander any affection. He didn’t know the market I was aiming for. He didn’t understand the conc ept. But he still shot me down and told me I’d lose everything if I went ahead with it. Maybe if I hadn’t been so young and hot-headed, I could have explained it better. Of course I regret that the last conversation I had with my father was a full-blown argument where we both said things we shouldn’t have said. Sometimes I wish I could rewind time. Just to re-do that final day. Anyway, it hardly matters now. Looking out over the iconic skyline reminds me that most of my decisions have been good ones. My father didn’t understand why I wanted to game-ify the stock market. But if he was alive today, I know he’d be impressed by what we’ve done and how far we’ve come. My office door opens and my brother Noah walks in, not bothering to knock. “We have a problem,” he says, throwing his wide-shouldered frame into the leather chair on the other side of my desk. We’re the same height but he has the build of a football player. If he worked out more, he could be seriously jacked, but Noah is too laid back to be competitive about things like that. He’s my CFO and the most perc eptive person I know, with a built-in radar for detecting problems before they get out of hand. Which is why his pronouncement gives me an ominous feeling. I stand up from my desk. “What’s the problem?” “A fucking serious one.” Business is all about problem-solving—endlessly—so I learned a long time ago not to overreact until there’s something to overreact about. But my brother’s concern gets my attention. “What kind of serious?” “One of our employees has been suspected of insider trading.” “What?” My voice comes out in a low growl. I can’t have heard that right.
“The SEC just called me. They noticed an anomaly in one of our r eports.” “What kind of anomaly?” “The kind of anomaly that means they suspect there might have been a leak.” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” “Dude, I wish I was. I’ve spent the past hour trying to cool this off but it’s gaining traction.” “Gaining traction where? With who?” If the news has already spread, we’re in big trouble. Our r eputation is key. If this goes public, it would be an absolute nightmare. I’ve seen companies go bankrupt within weeks for insider trading. I run a hand through my hair. “No one on our team would do this. They’d take bullets for this company. None of them would be stupid enough to jeopardize what we’ve built.” Noah shrugs. “Yesterday I would have agreed with you.” “Are there any clues? What kind of details did the SEC give you?” “They’re going to send through the full r eport this afternoon. We have until three weeks from Friday to respond to it and our lawyers have assured me they can buy us plenty of time. All the SEC has said is that the numbers that set off their alarm bells have to do with the Dyson Fund.” “The Dyson Fund? The ink’s barely dry on that one.” “Yeah. And someone who knew we were buying it has potentially leaked that info. It preemptively set off a flurry of activity. Which is serious but not necessarily conclusive. Either way, they’re considering an investigation.” “If word gets out, we’re fucked.” “Y ep,” Noah agrees bleakly. We’re not the only company who’s had the idea of game-ifying stocks and index funds, of course. We’ve just created the most user-friendly platform so far. But our competitors aren’t far behind us. If we’re in the headlines for fraud, users might jump ship. “We need to find out who’s responsible for this.” “People do strange things when money’s in volved. I doubt it’s personal. Someone might have seen an opportunity to make some cash, possibly very innocently. Maybe someone junior who doesn’t know the implications.” “Everyone is junior in this team,” I say gruffly. “We’ve made it a policy to employ young achievers.” Noah rubs his hand across his jaw. “I just spoke to Colton. Neither of us has any leads. Even if we did, it’s not the kind of thing we can accuse someone of without concrete evidence.” My brain is lurching into disaster-planning mode. We’ll have to do some digging to get ahead of this, but how can we do that when we don’t know who we can actually trust? I push the intercom that connects me to my assistant. “Hayley, get Colton in here, please, would you?” Less than a minute later, Colton walks in, filling the room with his stormy energy. He’s the youngest of the four of us and has always been the most rebellious. Now that he’s 26, he’s mellowed somewhat, but he still has an insolent vibe. All four of us are around 6’3” and built. Colton has always been the fastest. He moves like an athlete. And he’s as blasé as always. “Everyone needs to calm down. Nothing’s been proven yet. We can start by talking to IT. They’ll be able to scan for unusual activity. Emails, screenshots, that kind of thing. Everything that’s done here is on record.” “If we go to any single person, we’re effectively tipping them off,” Noah points out. He’s right. “We need someone we can trust absolutely,” I mutter. “Unfortunately, the only two people I trust implicitly are you two assholes
and you could hardly be mistaken for detectives.” “Speak for yourself,” Colton protests. “We don’t have to tell anyone exactly what we’re looking for. The three of us should be able to figure it out.” I frown. “Yes, we should. But poring over every page of activity and transactions that have happened in this company over the last quarter would take weeks. Maybe even months.” Noah’s the voice of reason, as usual. “The SEC said it was the activity surrounding our purchase of the Dyson Fund that raised a red flag. So we start there.” My brain is whirring. “Yes. We mine the r eport, listing all the people who contributed or had access to it.” “Almost everyone has had access to it, to some degree,” Noah says grimly. Damn it. Noah and Colton have as much blood, sweat and tears invested in this company as I do. Still, if we go under, it wouldn’t be as much of a catastrophe for them. They could walk away with their pride still intact. For me, this is personal. Invested Enterprises was my idea. I’m the one who distanced myself from our father’s legacy to try to prove that I could do just as well—or better. Noah and Colton still do one day a week for Maddox Equities, where our oldest brother Alexander is CEO. I’m still on the Board, but other than that I’ve almost completely removed myself from the family business to concentrate on my own. I’ve worked 24/7 for the past three years on this business, with no personal life and not a single vacation. I refuse to watch our company crumble to the ground because some jumped-up coding nerd thought he could get away with blue murder on my watch. “Find out what you can today,” I tell my brothers. “Do some more digging. I’ll make some phone calls. We need to make sure this goes no further, publicity-wise.” My brothers nod just as a knock at the door interrupts us. I glare at it, willing whoever is on the other side to fuck off. Hayley would know not to interrupt me right now. The door edges open. “This better be important.” Rylee’s face appears, her long red nails like blood-tipped talons as her fingers curl around the edge of the door. “Do you have a minute, Cash?” I should have known. She’s the one person who can get past Hayley. “It’s not a good time, Rylee.” “It’s important, Cash.” Colton and Noah head toward the door. “We’re done here anyway,” Noah says. “We’re on it, bro,” Colton adds. He pats my shoulder on the way out, feeling my pain, maybe, not just about the SEC bullshit but also about Rylee. My brothers happen to know that her inability to take no for a fucking answer is giving me some hell. I grit my teeth, stopping myself from saying something extremely rude to Rylee as she walks into my office. The woman has a knack for terrible timing. Rylee Winters and I had a very brief relationship around four months ago, right before she was headhunted by Noah. Noah didn’t realize that the two of us had “dated” at the time he poached her from another company. Rylee happens to be a savvy investor with a history of finding lucrative needles in hard-to-predict haystacks. Her grandfather was one of the early executives of a major hedge fund and she once told me that, instead of reading her bedtime stories, he taught how to read spreadsheets. Even I can admit she’s good at what she does. Rylee started working for Invested Enterprises right around the time things ended between us. I happened to be away on a work trip the week Noah hired her. By the time I got back, she’d already signed the contract. My hope was that she’d forget about our brief and now-completely-over history, like I have.
Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked out that way. “Let me know what you find out,” I tell my brothers. Colton has a way of laughing off stress. Nothing really bothers him. And Noah’s like a weathervane when it comes to reading a situation. If Noah predicts storms, then that’s probably what we’re about to get. The fact that both of them look more agitated by this new development than they’d like to admit sets my teeth on edge. Noah catches my eye before closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with Rylee. He’s assuming she’s come back here to beg. Which is probably true. “What do you need, Rylee.” It’s more of an annoyed statement than a question. I don’t have the patience for this right now. I watch her as she moves across my office on six-inch heels. “I need to talk to you about something.” “Then get on with it. I’m busy.” “There’s no need to be so rude about it, Cash.” Instead of taking one of the chairs, Rylee perches on my desk, twisting her body toward me, tapping one of her long, painted nails on a pile of paperwork. Here we go with the petty games. It was the reason I couldn’t handle more than a few weeks of a relationship with her. She’s a card-carrying bitch, is what it boils down to. Harsh but unfortunately true. I must have found her borderline attractive at some point. She’s got a reasonable amount of surface beauty. The long blond hair. The curves, which she’s doing her best to show off. But her beauty doesn’t go any de eper than that and it’s a detail that, right now, is pissing me off. “Do you ever miss me, Cash?” “No. I don’t miss you. And I don’t have time for this today.” “You never have time for anything. Especially me. You never did.” She didn’t take our break-up well. She’s been hounding me ever since. I’m about to go to the door, open it, and order her to leave. But then it crosses my mind: is she that hellbent on revenge that she’d try to bring down the entire company? Just to get back at me for not wanting a relationship? It seems too obvious. She’s a shark but she’s also very serious about her career. A move like that would get her fired. And no one else would touch her, after word got out. Gossip travels as fast on Wall Street as it does on any small town Main Street. “Why do you have to be so uptight all the time?” she whines. “We were so good together.” I sigh heavily. “No. We weren’t good together.” There was no softness between us at all. It was all clashing egos and power-struggles. During the very short time we spent together, I was more unhappy than I’ve ever been in my life. “I’m going to politely—once—ask you to leave. Please. Leave.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not asking for a commitment, Cash.” She leans forward, adjusting her skirt, working whatever sexiness she seems to think she’s projecting. “I just... I miss you, Cash.” “Look. I don’t know how to make this any clearer. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: it’s fucking over. Whatever we had fizzled out for me almost immediately and that’s not going to change. Acc ept it and move on. This is getting tedious.” Rylee brushes her glossy tumble of hair over one shoulder, completely ignoring what I just said to her. She makes no move to get off the desk. “You look so tense, Cash. I could take your mind off whatever’s bothering you. It would feel so n —” “Jesus Christ.” I walk over to the door. As I do, there’s a light knock. I yank the door open. “Mr. Maddox?” It’s Hayley, who glances uneasily at Rylee. Rylee has that effect on people. She makes them nervous because
she’s steely and calculating and has the vibe of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to stab you in the back. Rylee smirks, sliding off the desk and straightening her clothes. She knows what this looks like. And she’s enjoying it. Hayley does her best to ignore the tension in the room. “Your car will be here in ten minutes to take you to the airport.” Airport? Fuck. I completely forgot I’m supposed to be going to Hawaii this afternoon for a business meeting. “Should I book a... second ticket?” Hayley eyes Rylee, trying to be discrete. I have the urge to explain to Hayley that nothing has happened here. But it doesn’t seem worth the effort. I agreed to fly to Honolulu to meet with Ty Dyson. We’ve already bought his fund and the meeting was to discuss the closing. Considering everything that’s going on, the last thing I need is to be five thousand miles from the office right now. Then again, I want to discuss the new development with Ty. To let him know what’s happening, that we’re aware of it and doing everything we can to mitigate the damage. I have to go, no matter how shitty the timing is. Maybe what I actually need is some distance. Everything will be done by phone and email anyway, and Noah said the SEC is giving us some time to respond. Maybe some perspective will help. A few days in the sun to clear my head, to think things over. Nothing is going to be solved overnight, and those clear blue waters might give me a chance to figure out the best way to handle whatever the fuck is happening. “No,” I r eply brusquely. “Could you call Marta and ask her to pack a bag for me? I’ll pick it up on the way to the airport.” “Of course. I’ll let you know when your car is here.” I nod as Hayley ducks back out of the office to call my houseke eper, leaving me alone again with Rylee. “It could be perfect,” Rylee suggests hopefully. “I could come with you, and we could spend some time together and talk things through.” “Not going to happen.” I’m almost aggressively blunt but it can’t be helped. My nerves are frayed and my patience is shot. I hold the door open for her. “Get out of my office before I call security.” She glares at me, hurt. “All I was doing was trying to comfort you, Cash. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” That was part of the problem. This woman brings out the worst in me. Unfortunately, most women do. Which is too bad. It’s why my past love life is a debris field of one-night stands and failed attempts at something meaningful that always crash and burn before they even begin. Maybe I am an asshole. But I can’t fake feelings. And I never feel as much as I wish I did. “You give me no other choice.” Rylee shakes off her disappointment and her expression shifts to one of cold fury. “Fine. I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Mr. Maddox. You deserve whatever’s coming to you. Enjoy your trip.” I narrow my eyes at the sudden formality but say nothing. I deserve whatever’s coming to me? What the hell does that mean? My brothers can hold the fort for a few days. The thought of putting an ocean between myself and Rylee Winters is suddenly just a little too appealing.