But the code wasn't coming.

The rain was tapping a frantic rhythm against the café window, but all Leo could hear was the roar of his own pulse. His laptop screen glowed in the dim light, a single white box blinking on an otherwise empty Gmail login page.

Leo stared at the six glowing digits on the stranger's screen. 4-8-2-0-1-3. The key to his entire digital life, held hostage by a ghost. The code was real. His access was a lie. And the rain just kept falling.

Leo refreshed. Once. Twice. He checked his spam folder, his trash, his archived messages. Nothing. The silence from his phone felt like a physical weight. Then, a soft chime.