Jason's finger hovered over the reply button—but he didn't click.
The email wasn't just a threat. It was a message. One that suggested surveillance. One that proved someone, somewhere, had noticed his early moves.
He closed the laptop slowly.
His apartment suddenly felt less like a base of operations and more like a glass cage. He stood, crossed to the window, and scanned the street outside.
Nothing suspicious.
But he'd seen enough spy thrillers—and lived enough history—to know when he was being watched.
This was no coincidence.
That night, Jason made two decisions:
1. He would go dark. Any further investments or strategic movements would be layered behind proxies, shell companies, and fake identities.
2. He needed allies. Real ones. People who didn't just code or bet, but understood power and paranoia.
He called Amy.
"Someone's watching."
There was silence on the line. Then her voice dropped low. "What kind of watching?"
"Digital. They knew a name I haven't used since I woke up. They're sniffing around."
Amy was silent for a beat. Then: "I can encrypt everything. Hard. I'll rewrite our codebase from scratch, decentralize the servers, change our comms protocols. But Jason…"
"What?"
"You're moving too fast. And too loud. Someone with resources must've picked up your trail."
Jason nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I'm not slowing down. But I'll be smarter."
Over the next 48 hours, he took drastic action.
Bought three burner phones from different cities.
Changed his laptop's MAC address.
Abandoned his Gmail account and created a custom encrypted messaging server routed through Estonia.
Shifted all betting earnings into a crypto wallet Amy had designed using early blockchain principles—DarkMint v2.
Registered his next shell under the name Kingfire Holdings in Panama.
Then he called Victor.
"I need someone who knows people that dig dirt quietly."
Victor didn't hesitate. "I've got a contact. Private intel broker. Ex-CIA. Goes by Griggs. He doesn't come cheap."
"Set the meeting."
Jason clicked off and stared at the flickering candle beside him. Electricity had gone out again in his old apartment—a reminder of how far he had to go.
But not for much longer.
He wasn't just buying into companies now.
He was buying into protection.
Because if someone had already noticed his rise…
…then war was inevitable.
And Jason King had no intention of losing.