"What the heck?" Gus Harper nearly choked on his cod, eyes wide. "I'm going with you? To your dad's place? Tomorrow?"
Zoey Parker's sudden bombshell caught him off guard. He waved his hands frantically. "No way. You and your dad having dinner, and I'm just tagging along? That's awkward as hell."
Zoey grinned, sheepish. "It wasn't my idea. Dad wants to see you."
Gus froze, his fork hovering. Walter Parker wanted to see him? Why? Business or… personal? If it was about WindyPeak Games, he could handle it—rattle off development plans, impress as chief director. But personal? That was a minefield.
He'd never met Walter, but Zoey's stories painted a picture. Back in high school, Zoey was the cute, untouchable crush. Boys who got too close faced warnings. Good students got a teacher's lecture about "focusing on studies." Troublemakers? They'd get dragged into a van by burly guys for a "chat" in the suburbs. No fists needed—just pure terror. And those were just crushes. Gus? He was living with Walter's daughter.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His mind flashed to Walter sipping red wine, serving veal shank with a side of menace. "Nope," Gus said, shaking his head. "I'm getting a fever tomorrow. Guaranteed."
"A fever?" Zoey laughed. "You can't just schedule a fever."
"I'm 100% sure," Gus insisted. "Shake me, I'm burning up."
Zoey's smile turned sly. "You can dodge me, but not my dad. No one's ever dodged him."
Gus smirked, thinking she was exaggerating. "What, he's got connections in the sky?"
Zoey just stared, her silence louder than words. Gus swallowed hard, his smirk fading. Five seconds of tense quiet passed.
"Okay, fine," he sighed, slumping. "Business or family dinner? Give me a hint so I don't walk in blind."
"Business and family dinner," Zoey said, shrugging. "He didn't say much. You know how he is."
They locked eyes, the apartment heavy with nerves. Gus felt like he was headed for a firing squad.
Then Zoey's phone alarm blared, snapping the tension. To the Moon's first-week sales were out.
She grabbed her phone, skipping the usual fanfare. This was her baby—her first game, poured from her heart, tied to a 1% rebate. With Walter looming, she didn't bother with ceremony and logged into PacificTech's data portal.
The screen loaded. Zoey gasped, her face lighting up. "Holy crap!"
Gus leaned over, hopeful. "What? Your dad's got plans tomorrow?"
Zoey shot him a look. "Dream on. It's To the Moon's sales." She slid the phone across.
Gus's jaw dropped. "1.7 million copies?! Are you kidding me?"
A $500K pixel game had sold 1.7 million copies at $15 each—$25.5M in a week. A global record for a mini-game. Even Vampire Survivors's 160,000 weekly copies paled in comparison. This was a juggernaut.
Gus whistled. "Thank God IndieVibe waived their cut for charity. That's $5M saved." He shook his head, awed but spooked. "This is nuts."
Their phones buzzed with push alerts. Media had pounced: "Charity Miracle! To the Moon Raises $25.5M!""Zoey Parker's Debut Sells 1.7M Copies!""Global Tech Expo Hails To the Moon as Charity Week's Star!""Official Nod: To the Moon Sets Donation Record!"
X erupted: "$25M for charity? I'm in there!" "Here's to the star kids!" "No more lonely lighthouses!" "Bought a copy—my mom's gonna live forever!" "Yo, your mom's picking up cash at the market!" "Haha, is that how you bless people?" "Gus-and-Zoey couple for the win!" "360-degree hype spin!" "Wish Charity Week was longer—2M copies next!" "WindyPeak's killing it!"
Zoey scrolled, grinning at the "awesome" flood. Then her phone pinged: Your account received $255,000 on February 16. Balance: $894,523.68. The 1% rebate from $25.5M. Nearly $900K in her pocket.
She daydreamed. A $500M luxury yacht—102 meters, helicopter pad, 24 guests, 40 crew. Her $900K was 0.00018 of that. Small, but a start. Money snowballed, and To the Moon was proof.
But first, she had to protect Gus. Without him, her yacht dreams—and WindyPeak—were sunk. Walter's meeting was a chance to secure him. She'd dress Gus up, shower him with gifts for Walter, and hype his value. "This family's nothing without Gus," she'd say. Walter would see Gus as untouchable, safe from poachers like Nebula Tech.
"Cheer up," Zoey said, walking behind Gus and squeezing his shoulders. "I'm his daughter. I've got your back. Dad just wants to meet you, not grill you."
Gus shuddered. "Don't say 'grill.' That's worse."
Sunday morning, Gus dragged himself out of bed at 9 a.m., groggy. He'd tossed until 3 a.m., stressing over gifts for Walter. A bottle of wine? Too basic. Cigars? Cliché. He'd met industry bigwigs before, but Walter Parker was next-level.
He shuffled to the bathroom, then froze. Zoey was gone. Before he could call, a knock rattled the door.
"Gus, open up!" Zoey's voice called.
He opened it, and his jaw hit the floor. Zoey stood buried in bags—cigars, aged whiskey, teas, supplements, even a fancy massager. Her hands were red from the weight.
"You rob a store?" Gus asked, grabbing bags.
Zoey shook out her hands. "Heavy as hell. These are for Dad."
Gus blinked. "You got all this for me to give him?"
"Duh," Zoey said, sticking out her tongue. "You were snoring, and you don't know what Dad likes. I asked Chloe to help me shop at dawn."
Gus stared at the haul, stunned. "So… these are my gifts?"
"Yup," Zoey said. "I don't need to bring stuff to my own house. This is for you, lazybones."