The Scariest Day of My Life

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I was flying out of my bedroom before I even finished reading the message. This couldn’t be real. This guy was screwing with me. 

My wife, Cosette, called after me. “Honey…?”

“Uh, it’s fine. I gotta… fix something.” 

I could hardly form the words. My mouth wasn’t working. My heart hammered in my ears and pins and needles burned my hands and feet. I squeezed my fists as hard as I could to get them to stop hurting as I stumbled into my office and fumbled through my laptop password, pulling up the message that had thrown me out of bed: 

“Nat, someone found a way to hack us. It sounds bad. All of our funds might be at risk.”

This was the absolute worst-case scenario. The one I’d pushed to the back of my mind. The one I pretended was impossible so I could sleep at night. I’d always accepted the risk that I could lose all of my money. But if I lost a hundred million dollars of other people’s money … 

I couldn’t let myself think about that right now.

I started running through every possible scenario. Whoever was reaching out might be trying to scam us, trying to trick us into doing something enabling him to hack us. Maybe he had already hacked us and was holding our money ransom? Or, maybe, just maybe, he was actually a trustworthy person and wanted to help us out?

Doubtful. 

Just then, crying broke out in the next room. Cosette sighed and said, “I’ll get her.” I could hear the frustration in her steps to the nursery. Morse code that she wasn’t buying my “it’s fine.” Another thing I couldn’t think about now. I slipped on my headphones and hunkered down.

Checking the code, everything seemed fine. Everyone’s money was still there. Whatever the potential hack was, it hadn’t happened yet. Maybe there was still time. 

I looked at how much of my own money was at risk. Just over $10,000,000. I desperately wanted to sell whatever I could. But this was crypto. Everything was public, everyone could see what I was doing, and more than a few were already watching me. They’d notice if I pulled my money. They’d get scared and start asking questions. Or they’d assume I knew something was up and preemptively sell everything. A bank run would be almost as bad as a hack. 

The hammering in my ears continued. My hands burned.  

I joined a chat room with the hacker, Paul. He asked if I was the programmer in charge of the crypto code where he’d found the vulnerability. The truth was I’d hesitate to even call myself a programmer. I’d thrown that code together in two weeks. It was a freelance gig to get my feet wet, not something I thought people would put a hundred million dollars into. But what I told Paul was: 

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?” 

As Paul started typing his reply, I noticed a flurry of notifications coming from the public chat. Fuck. He’d sent a message to the entire community of thousands of people saying there was a security risk and asking if any team members were online. Now people were starting to freak out and demanding answers. What could I do? I tried to sound reassuring. I said everything was fine and we were on top of it. It’s not like I was going to tell everyone they might be about to lose all of their money. 

Meanwhile, on the private chat, Paul said he would need to do a couple things to verify that I was the owner. “Obviously, I can’t risk giving this information to anyone,” he said. “In the wrong hands it could lead to a massive financial loss.” 

“Yeah,” I thought, “like your hands, asshole.” 

I knew that whatever he was about to ask me to do could be part of a hack. The best way to get the gates of Troy open was to make us all think our money was about to be stolen. 

“If you could,” he continued. “Please send a small transaction from your account to the following account.” He pasted in his crypto address. Sending the transaction seemed safe enough, but I wasn’t an expert. I’d never dealt with a hacker, but there was no time to find and hire someone more experienced. 

If I played along and got us hacked, I’d be ruined. But if I didn’t play along and we got hacked, well, then I’d be screwed, too. A year ago, I never could have dreamed of making this kind of money. My entire life had changed. I’d secured my family’s financial future. I’d ensured the life for my daughter that I was so desperate to give her. And now it was all about to get taken away. Just like that. Back to start. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. 

I dug my elbows into my desk and fell forward into my hands, trying to rub the terror and fatigue out of my eyes. 

This might be the worst day of my life. 

What the hell am I supposed to do?

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