The Billion Dollar Orphan

I had just finished attending the AI Ethics Forum in Davos, Switzerland, when my mentor, Dr. Alistair Finch, video-called to inform me he'd arranged a marriage for me. My intended groom was the son of an old friend: Caleb Vance, the CEO of Vance Industries.

The "Prometheus" project, Vance Industries' latest venture, was built entirely around my AI algorithm.

After wrapping up my work, I dressed in a simple yet elegant gown and headed to "The Empyrean," a private club on a Manhattan rooftop, for the engagement party.

But Caleb's executive assistant, Tiffany Blair, stopped me at the reception desk.

She was dressed in flashy luxury brands, looking more like the star of the evening than I did.

"Well, look what we have here. Some girl trying to use a project to social climb," she sneered. "Doesn't she know her place? As if she's good enough for our CEO." She flashed her phone's lock screen, a picture of her and Caleb looking intimate on a yacht.

Infuriated, I called Caleb directly.

"If your idea of hospitality is having your fiancée barred from the door, then I can only return the favor. I'll let you watch me sell 'Prometheus' to Sterling Dynamics. How does that sound?"

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1

I grew up in the foster care system. I owed my entire education and my career as a top AI ethicist to the support of my mentor, Alistair. He treated me like his own daughter.

So, when it came to the fiancé he'd chosen for me, I was willing to cut him some slack.

If Caleb Vance could offer a reasonable explanation and resolve the situation, I was willing to give him a second chance.

"Willow? What's wrong?"

It was noisy on Caleb's end, the chatter of guests surrounding him. He offered a few perfunctory replies to someone else before finally putting the phone to his ear, clearly having missed every word I'd said.

"I'm at the entrance. Could you come get me? Your assistant—"

Before I could finish, he clicked his tongue. "Who do you think you are, a princess? You have legs, don't you? Talk to a waiter. I'm busy with guests and don't have time to fetch you. Figure it out."

With that, he hung up, leaving me with a dial tone.

Tiffany covered her mouth and laughed, her eyes filled with contempt. "Everything I'm doing has Caleb's tacit approval. If you want to get in, figure it out yourself—if you have what it takes."

I could navigate the most complex ethical dilemmas in algorithmic theory, but this kind of petty drama just gave me a headache.

"Miss Blair, are you that secure in your position? Is blocking your boss's fi-an-cée at the door a good career move for you?" I asked.

"Too bad for you, you're all talk. Mr. Vance despises a pretty face with nothing to offer, especially compared to a professional like me," she retorted.

I looked at her coldly. "A professional? A 'professional' who's possessive of her boss? Does Caleb know his assistant follows him around all day, wagging her tail like a bitch in heat?"

The words stung Tiffany. Her face flushed red with a mixture of anger and humiliation. She raised her hand to slap me.

I stepped back, dodging her palm. "Can't win an argument, so you resort to violence? Is this how you handle a business deal gone south? Wow. Such a top-tier professional."

"Get her out of here!" Tiffany's voice was so shrill it cracked, her composure shattered.

She gasped for air, glaring at me and pointing with a trembling finger.

The security guards, who had been enjoying the show, heard her command and began to close in on me.

"Are you going to be as stupid as Tiffany? Do you know who you're about to lay your hands on? I am Caleb Vance's fiancée!" I snapped, trying to reason with them.

The guards exchanged a look. The leader apologized, but his eyes were full of mockery.

"Miss Hayes, we're just following orders. Please don't make this difficult. Miss Blair is clearly in Mr. Vance's favor, while you're... well, you're not on the list. I guess if it turns out you're some secret heiress, we'll owe you an apology then."

I was wearing an elegant gown and high heels for the engagement party. I managed to dodge them twice, but they quickly grabbed my arms, trying to force me toward the service elevator.

Tiffany's expression darkened as she watched me, then a vicious smile spread across her lips. She took out her phone, ready to film my humiliation.

I closed my eyes.

"Let her go!"

A low, angry voice rang out. Tiffany's hand froze in mid-air.