Cyber Cryptic

Grace

Just as I'm trying to make sense of everything, another blow lands squarely on my shoulders. "Oh my God, now the FBI? Are you kidding me?"

Agent Reed speaks calmly and professionally. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Fields. My sincere condolences. But I must do my job, regardless."

Frustration and exhaustion mingle in my voice. "Now what is it?"

Agent Reed scans the room. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

I nod, leading him to the study. The click of our footsteps echoes in the hallway, the quiet, book-lined space suddenly claustrophobic as I close the door.

"Mrs. Fields, the FBI is now handling your husband's case," Agent Reed begins. "It's related to a hundred-million-dollar Bitcoin heist. You're a suspect and our only lead."

I stare at him, bewildered. "Why am I a suspect? I have no connection to this!"

"Actually, you do," Agent Reed explains, flipping through his notes. "We found multiple cryptocurrency accounts under your name with suspicious transactions. On May 7th, you received a cryptocurrency wallet address as a gift, linking you to the heist."

"That's absurd!" I retort, my voice rising. "I have no cryptocurrency accounts, and I never received anything like that!"

"Calm down, Mrs. Fields," Agent Reed says firmly yet gently. "Your husband, Mark Fields, managed these accounts, making him part of the heist."

The room feels like it's closing in on me. I clutch the desk's edge, steadying myself. "What does this mean for me?"

"We'll bring you in for interrogations when needed, and you're being monitored," Agent Reed replies. "Don't leave the city or country. Complying with the law is in your best interest."

As he turns to leave, panic surges within me. "Wait," I say, trembling. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Agent Reed pauses, his expression softening. "Find a good lawyer, Mrs. Fields. The truth will come out. We're here to find it."

He leaves, and I'm left standing in the study, the weight of the world on my shoulders. Reality hits me hard—I'm a suspect in a massive heist, my husband is dead, and my life is unraveling. How did I get here? How do I get out?

Moments later, Grey, Mom, and Jesse enter the study. Their faces are etched with worry and concern. I sink into a chair, holding my head in my hands, overwhelmed.

Mom steps forward, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she reassures me, her voice filled with maternal comfort.

Grey kneels beside me, his eyes searching mine. "We'll get through this, Grace. You're not alone."

Jesse stands near the doorway, his sadness evident in his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. He watches silently, at a loss for words, his heart heavy.

I manage a weak smile, lifting my head. "I... I just need to be alone for a bit. To think."

Mom pats my shoulder once more before stepping back. "Of course, dear. We'll be right outside if you need anything."

Grey squeezes my hand gently. "Take your time, Grace. We'll figure this out together."

Jesse gives me a small, sad nod before turning to leave the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Left alone in the study, I take a deep breath, attempting to steady the storm of emotions raging inside me. The dim light casts long shadows on the walls, mirroring the darkness in my heart. I feel trapped, drowning in a sea of fear, anger, and confusion.