"Hey, Dad," Zoey Parker said into her phone, leaning back in her WindyPeak Games office chair.
"No meetings today?" she teased.
Walter Parker's warm voice came through. "Was just about to call you, kiddo. What's up?"
"You calling me?" Zoey grinned. "Miss me, huh? Should I come home for a bit?"
Walter laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "Come home? You sure you'd want to?"
Zoey's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean? I love coming home!"
"Oh, sure," Walter said, his tone playful but cryptic. "Let's talk about that later. So, what's on your mind?"
Zoey cut to the chase. "Did you pull strings with Global Pulse Media? That article about To the Moon—PacificTech couldn't swing that alone, and we're not that big."
"Global Pulse Media?" Walter sounded clueless. "What article?"
Zoey explained the glowing piece praising WindyPeak's charity and her leadership. "You didn't know?"
"Oh, that," Walter said, like it just clicked. "Someone at dinner last night asked if WindyPeak was tied to Parker Capital. Must be related."
Zoey's jaw tightened. The more she navigated the business world, the more her dad's influence intimidated her. He hadn't done anything—hadn't called in favors or dropped hints. But he hadn't hidden WindyPeak's ties to Parker Capital or their father-daughter bond either. It was just… connections. Like neighbors swapping onions and apples, natural and unspoken.
"Okay, thanks, Dad," Zoey said, a shy smile creeping in. "Guess that explains it."
"Anything else?" Walter asked.
"Got any orders for me, boss?" Zoey joked.
Walter cleared his throat, his tone shifting. "You alone?"
"Yup, office is all mine." Zoey stood, locked the door. "What's up?"
Walter hesitated, then coughed awkwardly. "So… you and Gus. What's the deal?"
Zoey's face turned beet red. "Us? What do you mean, us?"
"Don't play dumb," Walter said, half-annoyed. "You're living together, right?"
Zoey froze. "Dad! You spying on me?"
"Spying?" Walter scoffed. "You two aren't exactly subtle. Living together, all chummy."
Zoey scratched her head, flustered. "It's just… sharing an apartment. Nothing weird!"
Walter chuckled, then got serious. "Zoey, you're a grown woman. I don't meddle in your choices, but I've got some advice. You've never been close to guys growing up. Now, you're making big decisions. Try what feels right—be bold. If it doesn't work out, you've got family. You've got me."
Zoey's eyes stung. Her dad rarely got this open. His love was usually quiet, steady, like a mountain. "Dad," she said softly, "I'll come home this weekend. I miss you."
"Good," Walter said. "I'm free this week."
"Cool, see you then—"
"Wait," Walter cut in. "Bring Gus."
Zoey's heart skipped. "What?! Why him? It's a family dinner!"
"What's with the panic?" Walter teased, like he saw right through her. "I want to talk WindyPeak's plans with him. Can you answer that?"
Zoey huffed, hands on hips, but deflated. "Fine… we'll come Sunday."
She hung up, groaning. Meet the parents? This is a disaster.
That week, WindyPeak Games was unstoppable. The Global Pulse Media article sent shockwaves through the gaming world. A top-tier outlet praising a small studio? Unreal.
X lit up: "No way—a major article for To the Moon?!" "Someone called this before—prophet alert!" "A 300MB game outshining Titanfall?" "This article's worth more than any ad!" "First time a game studio got this kind of love!" "WindyPeak's untouchable now!" "Bought another copy on my mom's account—charity vibes!"
The hype fueled sales. In four days, To the Moon hit 1 million copies globally. At $15 each, that was $15M, all donated to the Global Starlight Foundation. Compared to Vampire Survivors's 160,000 copies in a week—a record until a rival hit 180,000—To the Moon's 1M in four days crushed the mini-game scene. Fans mourned: "The weekly sales chart is dead. Second place is the new first."
Inside WindyPeak, the Outlast project—codenamed "Dump Truck"—neared completion. Development was smooth, with teams clicking perfectly. The final bug tests, though, were brutal. Testers kept getting kicked from the game's creepy cabin. To lighten the mood, the team bet fried dough sticks on who could survive ten runs without a crash. Yuki Kamikawa, kicked nine times, won "Most Fearless Tester" and 1,700 dough sticks—breakfast for life.
Meanwhile, Komina played it cool. Their Silent Hill ads started popping up on Twitch and YouTube. Their "internet forgets" strategy worked—outrage over their indie pivot had faded. X posts showed cautious hype: "Okay, Komina's Silent Hill looks kinda dope." The "Fvk KOMINA" crowd was quieter now.
Saturday night, Gus Harper and Zoey Parker sat across from each other in their Seattle apartment. Dinner was pan-fried cod, fillet steak, buttered rolls, salad, and mushroom soup. Gus handled the mains; Zoey made the rolls, soup, and salad. After months of sharing a place, they were a well-oiled team.
"Komina's Silent Hill is basically done if they're advertising," Gus said, cutting his steak. "Our Outlast is in final tweaks, too. Perfect timing to steal their thunder."
Zoey nodded, half-listening, poking her salad. Gus waved a hand. "Yo, earth to Zoey. What's up?"
"Huh? Nothing!" Zoey snapped back, blushing. "I'm listening!"
Gus raised an eyebrow. "What'd I just say?"
"Something about… salt-baked chicken?" Zoey guessed.
Gus sighed, rolling his eyes. "Spill it. What's on your mind?"
Zoey hesitated. Two big things weighed on her. First, To the Moon's sales. She'd poured her heart into it—half a notebook of ideas, even with Gus's help. It was her passion project, and tonight at 8 p.m., Charity Week's final sales would drop. With 1M copies ($15M) by day four, her 1% rebate was already $150K. She hoped for more.
Second, a bigger worry. She fidgeted. "So… tomorrow, no plans, okay?"
Gus shrugged. "Shopping with Yuki or something?"
"Nope," Zoey said, voice small. "More important. I'm going home to see my dad."
"Cool," Gus said. "I'll skip cooking then."
Zoey's smile was pained. "You don't need to cook… because you're coming with me."
Gus froze, fork mid-air. "Wait, what?"