Page 84 of Masks and Mishaps

Weston’s response is to snatch the headset off Cabrera’s head and connect to my line.

“Are you there?” Claudia questions.

“The fuck,” Weston mouths, glaring at me, “are you doing?”

“I would purchase yen first, and then I would apply the algorithm,” I explain, trying to lay it out as simply as possible. “Your upside has the potential to be astronomical.”

“And the downside?”

“Essie, this isn’t in your remit. Give the line to me,” Weston orders outright.

“Ignore him,” Dalton encourages, jutting his head into my line of sight. “Look at me. Keep going.”

“It’s risky to lean heavily on forex, but three million would be a small subset that could react to the minutia of market inefficiencies,” I reply, “but moreover, it’s not an actively managed fund.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning the commission fees would be lower. Drastically.”

“You’re saying I can keep my money,” Claudia states. “The cut Hannington-Hale gets is smaller.”

“Right, on a per-client basis, but we can take more clients on. We just have to get them on board.”

Claudia clicks her tongue, and the line stays silent. Daltonhatessilence, so he rises and shoves back Weston’s chair. He starts pacing.

“Say something,” Weston blurts out.

“Do I?” I mouth, looking at Dalton.

“Never,” Dalton mouths back, shaking his head in warning. “Let her come to you. If you force it, she’s going to run.”

Claudia lets out an audible sigh. “And does everything hold if I scale to…let’s say…thirty million?”

Weston and Dalton both freeze—until Dalton starts nodding.

“Yes,” I confirm, and it’s becoming impossible to keep my tone even. “I built it. If there’s anything wrong with it, I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Tell me why I should take the word of a twenty-two-year-old computer science major.”

I pause. I don’t know how Claudia knows these things about me, but she does. Hedging my bets—taking a risk—I hope she knows far more about me than I realized. “Because I’ve never let anyone down, and I’m not about to start.”

Claudia is quiet again. “Good. Let’s do fifteen million.”

“Thirty,” I counter.

Dalton bites his fist at the same moment Weston gestures to me. “She can’t execute a transaction. She’s an intern,” he points out.

“Then I’ll execute the fucking transaction,” Dalton snaps before moving to the other side of the desk where there’s an open terminal. “Move.”

“Fine, thirty million,” Claudia agrees.Oh my fucking god.

Hands steady, Dalton puts the numbers into the terminal and looks at me. “Done.”

“Alright. Thirty million,” I confirm. “It’s done.”

“Fab. I’m off to Geneva now. Bye, love,” Claudia says before ending the call without any fanfare whatsoever.

Dalton and I stare at each other in stunned, unmoving silence. His face shifts from adrenaline to admiration, and he blinks, letting out a slow breath like he’s trying to make sense of me—and he smiles.

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