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Leo nodded, took a bite of a glazed donut, and clicked Sign Up .

Leo frowned. “But I saw the charts. It’s going up. People are making millions.”

“One more thing,” Sarah said, heading for the door. “Don’t invest more than you’re willing to lose. That ‘oil’ is volatile.”

Leo looked at the napkin, then back at the flickering neon. The mystery was gone, replaced by a map. He didn’t need a secret handshake; he just needed a login.

The neon sign above “Mick’s Late-Night Donuts” flickered, casting a rhythmic blue glow over Leo’s face. He wasn’t there for the crullers; he was there because Mick had the only reliable Wi-Fi on the block, and Leo had a mission.