You Could Have Asked Nicely

The faint drizzle fell gently on Matthew's shoulders, soaking slowly into the fabric of his suit jacket. Standing quietly outside his mother's modest home, he kept his eyes fixed calmly on the empty street ahead. The quietness was deliberate—almost staged—an unnatural stillness that made his pulse quicken just slightly, despite the calmness he projected.

Behind him, his mother's warm laughter still echoed softly from the brightly lit windows, oblivious to the tension brewing outside. Matthew exhaled slowly, allowing the steady rhythm of rain to ease his nerves.

This wasn't just another visit—it was the culmination of a carefully orchestrated plan, months in the making. He had known every step Russia and China took, every move they made to steal his technology, to infiltrate his network, and even their desperate attempts to spy on him personally. They had danced exactly to his tune.

And tonight, he was ready for their final act.