Chapter 103: Elaborate Psycho The silence stretched between them like a blade. Charlotte’s security team was ready to either arrest him or make him disappear permanently. ’Jesus,’ Charlotte thought. ’He really knows something. What an elaborate psycho.’ For the first time in weeks, she felt something that might have been hope although wrapped in insanity of this elaborate psycho. All those sleepless nights, all those board meetings where she felt like a complete fraud... maybe there was actually a way out of this nightmare. ’Though if this is my knight in shining armor, the universe has a seriously twisted sense of humor. Could’ve at least sent someone who looked like Chris Evans instead of... whatever this is.’ She shook her head, annoyed at her own superficial thoughts. ’Focus, Charlotte. This might be your lifeline.’ Or just the universe just playing with her. "You have impressive intel," she said finally. "But intel doesn’t solve technical problems." "Your AI isn’t failing because of the technology," Peter said simply. "It’s failing because you’re approaching consciousness wrong." Jake nearly choked. ’Boss is actually listening to this?’ "Wrong how?" Charlotte asked, leaning forward despite herself. "Human brains are evolutionary accidents. We’re built for survival, not optimization. Your AI hits that 10% wall because it’s been programmed with human limitations. It’s smart enough to know it should be smarter." ’Fuck me,’ Charlotte thought. ’Is that the problem or is he just bluffing?’ Peter caught the shift in her expression—the moment when skepticism gave way to genuine interest. Finally. He’d been wondering how long it would take for her to realize she was talking to someone who actually knew what they were doing, unlike whatever parade of consultants had been bleeding her company dry. "Instead of copying human neural patterns," Peter continued, "you need emotional intelligence with computational efficiency. Think even better than humans, process like machines." * "And you are...?" "Irrelevant. What matters is what I can do." Charlotte’s smile turned predatory. "Oh, this should be good. Enlighten me, mystery boy. What exactly can you do?" Here we go. "I can complete your adaptive AI project. I can solve the 10% barrier that’s been killing your timeline. I can give you a working prototype that will revolutionize personal assistance technology and make your competitors obsolete." The smile disappeared. "By the way how do you know about the 10% barrier?" ’Too much information. Play it smart.’ "Because I do my research. And because I know more about your situation than your own board does." "Tell me your name.... Duncan," she said quietly to one of her guards, her voice dropping to arctic temperatures. "Background check. Now." Oh fuck. "Wait," I said quickly, but not desperately. Authority, not panic. "You want to waste time running checks on me, or do you want to hear about the breakthrough that saves your company?" "I want to know who I’m talking to before I decide whether to have you arrested or just forgotten." Shit. She’s desperate but—she’s methodical too. This isn’t going to work with emotional appeals. "You’re right to be suspicious," I said, switching tactics. "But you posted seven hundred thousand dollars on IT Gens because you’re out of conventional options. You’re interviewing twenty random applicants tomorrow because your internal team has failed. Your stock price has dropped eighteen percent in three weeks because investors know you’re hemorrhaging money on a project that should have worked by now." Charlotte went very, very still. "How do you know about all this?" "Because I know what desperation looks like when it’s dressed in Armani and driven in a Maybach. And all I have to do is do my research." The silence stretched between us like a blade. Her security team was ready to either arrest me or make me disappear, but Charlotte held them back with a subtle gesture. "You have brass, I’ll give you that," she said finally. "Most people who approach me are either terrified or trying to kiss my ass. You’re doing neither." "I don’t have time for either." "Time." She seemed to taste the word. "What makes you think I have time to waste on masked teenagers with delusions of grandeur?" Here’s the hook. "Because," I said, meeting her gaze directly through the mask, "you don’t have time to waste on anything else. Your enemies are positioning for a hostile takeover. Your board is losing confidence. Your father’s legacy is about to be carved up by vultures who’ve been waiting for exactly this moment." Something flickered behind her eyes. Not fear—calculation. "And you think you can prevent that?" "I think I can give you the weapons you need to fight back. Starting with the AI breakthrough that proves you’re not the incompetent heiress they think you are." Charlotte studied me for a long moment, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. This wasn’t a woman who made impulsive decisions—this was someone who weighed every angle before committing to anything. "Five minutes," she said finally. "You get five minutes to convince me you’re not completely insane. But we’re doing this properly." Holy shit. It worked. "And if I think you’re wasting my time," she continued, her voice carrying the promise of consequences, "you’ll discover exactly how quickly security problems disappear in this city." Jesus. She really is dangerous. "Understood," I said. "Good." She turned toward the car entrance, her heels clicking on marble with the precision of a countdown timer. "Try not to disappoint me. I’ve had enough disappointments this month to last a lifetime." Welcome to the big leagues, Carter. Time to prove you belong here. * Marcus looked like he was watching his boss make a deal with the devil. Jake was clearly calculating how much overtime this was going to cost him. Charlotte was already moving toward the white Maybach, her heels clicking on marble with the precision of a countdown timer. "Try not to disappoint me," she called over her shoulder. "I’ve had enough disappointments this month to last a lifetime." Peter chuckled softly. Disappoint her? He wasn’t going to disappoint her—he was going to revolutionize her entire understanding of what was possible. Though given her limited technical knowledge, he was more worried about whether she’d even be able to follow along with what he was about to explain. As Peter followed her to the car, he caught the scent of her perfume. Something French and expensive that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent. The kind of fragrance that whispered secrets instead of shouting them. The interior of the Maybach was exactly what you’d expect from someone worth eight billion dollars. Leather that felt like silk, technology that belonged in a spaceship, and enough space to hold a small conference. Charlotte settled into her seat like she was claiming a throne. "Alright," she said, crossing her legs and fixing him with that predatory smile. "You’ve got my attention. What do you need to prove you can deliver?" Outside, her security team maintained their perimeter, probably wondering what the hell their boss was thinking. ’Just another Sunday afternoon,’ Peter thought as the privacy screens activated. "Tell me about your AI’s learning curve," he said, settling into the seat across from her. "Specifically, what happens when it reaches the 10% threshold." Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly. Not shock. Recognition. ’He’s not bluffing anymore,’ she realized. "Because," Peter said, letting confidence fill the space between them, "I’m the person who’s going to help you break through it." The game had officially begun.