They Thought I Was A Janitor, Until I Refinanced The Skyscraper And Evicted Them

The tablet buzzed angrily. Red letters flashed: ACCESS DENIED. UNABLE TO READ PRINT.

Elena cursed. The cut on her palm had seeped blood onto her thumb, obscuring the ridges. Biometric security was unforgiving. She wiped the screen on her jumpsuit, smearing the blood but not clearing it.

"Who's there?" Marcus’s voice cut through the alarm. He was close. Too close.

Elena crouched lower behind the painting. She needed data recovery, she needed a miracle. She looked at her left hand—the one she’d used to scrub toilets, untarnished by the climb.

She took a breath, ignoring the pounding of boots on the wet floor. She pressed her left index finger to the glass.

The scanner spun a blue circle.

IDENTITY CONFIRMED. WELCOME, ADMINISTRATOR ROSSI.

A second menu popped up. No identify theft protection could stop this; she was the rightful owner. She tapped the file marked REFINANCE PROTOCOL BETA.

"There's someone behind the bar!" a guard shouted.

Elena scrambled back just as a heavy hand swiped the air where her head had been. She rolled across the wet floor, clutching the tablet like a shield.

The interface loaded. A green button pulsed: EXECUTE DEBT RESTRUCTURE.

She slammed her finger on it.