The crisis arrived not with a bang, but with a whisper—a single email that landed in Simon's inbox at 3:17 a.m. on a frigid November night.
Subject: Urgent Security Alert – ErosAI Breach Suspected
Simon jolted awake, heart pounding before his eyes fully opened. The sender was WestTech's head of cybersecurity, a man who never used the word "suspected" lightly. He scanned the message: anomalous activity detected, potential data exfiltration, possible involvement of Nexus Systems.
His intuition screamed. Not just danger—betrayal.
He didn't wake Lily or Betty yet. Instead, he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb their tangled, sleeping forms—Lily spooning Betty, both breathing softly against his pillow. He pulled on sweatpants and padded to his home office, lights dimmed to blue.
By dawn, the picture was grim. Hackers had infiltrated ErosAI's servers—millions of user profiles compromised, including intimate preference data that users had trusted the app to keep sacred. The breach wasn't random; code signatures pointed to Nexus, Simon's ruthless rival led by Marcus Hale, a man who'd once been a friend until ambition poisoned everything.
Simon's gut twisted with rage and guilt. This wasn't just business. This was personal. Users' privacy—people's deepest desires—exposed because of his creation.
When Lily and Betty woke to find him still at his desk, unshaven, eyes bloodshot, they knew instantly.
"Talk," Lily demanded, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
He told them everything.
Betty, ever the financial mind, went pale. "The IPO… if this leaks before we contain it—"
"It will tank us," Simon finished. "Stock will plummet. Investors will run."
Lily paced, fury in her eyes. "Those bastards. They're not just stealing data—they're weaponizing intimacy."
The next forty-eight hours were war.
Simon called an emergency war room at WestTech—Betty assembling the crisis team, Lily volunteering to handle PR and user communication. No sleep. Endless coffee. Code reviews, forensic analysis, legal consultations.
The team confirmed the worst: Nexus had paid insiders for backdoor access. Two junior engineers—seduced by money and threats—had betrayed them.
Simon's intuition had missed it. For the first time in years, it failed him. The guilt crushed heavier than the breach itself.
At home, the emotional toll mounted.
Lily snapped at Betty over a minor PR disagreement—words sharper than intended. Betty withdrew, retreating to her loft for a night alone. Simon buried himself in work, avoiding both women, terrified his failure would cost him everything—including them.
By the third night, the penthouse felt like a battlefield of silence.
Lily found him on the terrace, staring at the city, whiskey untouched.
"You're shutting us out," she said quietly.
"I fucked up," he rasped. "My gut didn't see this coming. People's lives are ruined because of me."
She sat beside him, taking his hand. "No. Because of Nexus. You built something beautiful. They're the ones who weaponized it."
Betty arrived unannounced, eyes red from crying. "I can't sleep without you both. This distance… it's killing me."
They came together on the terrace sofa—hugging, crying, apologizing. No sex, just holding. The crisis had stripped them raw, but it also reminded them what mattered.
"We fight this together," Simon said finally, voice steady for the first time. "All of it."
The counterattack began.
Betty's financial brilliance secured emergency funding to bolster defenses and offer user compensation. Lily crafted a transparent public statement—honest, empathetic, rage-tinged—that went viral for all the right reasons. Users rallied, praising WestTech's accountability.
Simon's intuition, dormant under guilt, reignited. He spotted patterns in the breach logs—backdoors left deliberately sloppy. Nexus wanted to be caught? No—Marcus wanted humiliation.
He called Marcus directly.
"You crossed a line," Simon said, voice ice.
Marcus laughed. "Business, Simon. You built a goldmine of data. I just… borrowed it."
"You exposed people's private lives."
"Collateral damage. Your stock's down 28%. Sell to me now, or watch it hit zero."
Simon hung up, rage fueling clarity.
They went on offense.
Betty uncovered financial trails—Nexus had overleveraged for the attack. Lily's PR campaign painted them as predators, turning public opinion. Simon's team patched the breach, rolled out unbreakable encryption, and—quietly—fed false data through the backdoor, luring Nexus into a trap.
The turning point came during an emergency board meeting. Investors screamed for blood. Simon stood, intuition blazing.
"We don't sell. We fight. And we win."
Betty presented the recovery plan—flawless. Lily joined via video, sharing user support metrics. The board voted confidence.
That night, back home, exhaustion hit like a wave.
They collapsed on the massive bed, clothes shedding like armor.
"I need you both," Simon whispered, voice breaking.
They gave him everything—slow, healing lovemaking. Lily riding him gently while Betty kissed him, then switching. Hands intertwined. Eye contact constant. Tears mixing with sweat.
When Simon came inside Betty, Lily held him through the shudders, whispering, "We've got you. Always."
After, they talked strategy—naked, tangled, brains firing.
Lily suggested a bold move: go public with the attack details, sue Nexus for corporate espionage. Betty mapped the financial fallout—turn weakness into strength by offering free premium upgrades to affected users, rebuilding trust.
Simon's intuition confirmed: this could destroy Nexus.
They executed flawlessly.
The lawsuit hit like a bomb—evidence irrefutable. Nexus stock cratered. Marcus's board ousted him. Regulators swarmed.
WestTech emerged stronger—user base grew from solidarity, stock rebounded higher than pre-crisis. ErosAI 2.0 launched with ironclad security, hailed as the gold standard.
The personal victory was sweeter.
One night, after the dust settled, they celebrated on the rooftop—champagne, city lights, blankets against the chill.
"I almost lost everything," Simon said, arms around both women.
"You didn't," Betty replied. "Because we didn't let you."
Lily raised her glass. "To surviving the crisis."
"And thriving after," Simon added.
They drank, then made love under the stars—slow at first, then urgent, celebrating life, love, victory.
Crisis hadn't broken them.
It had forged them unbreakable.
As winter deepened, with the IPO on horizon and their bond deeper than ever, they faced the future unafraid.
Three against the world.
And the world didn't stand a chance.