At my wedding, my mother-in-law secretly slipped something into my husband's vest pocket and then suddenly yelled, “Run!” causing everyone to panic.
The brilliant August sunshine streamed through the large windows of The Fairmont hotel in San Francisco, illuminating my gorgeous lace wedding dress. I, **Charlotte “Charlie” Hayes**, 28, stood beside the man of my life, **Ethan Blackwell**, a handsome and warm tech engineer. Everything was perfect, from the emotional vows to our first kiss as husband and wife.
But in Ethan's world, perfection was constantly threatened by his family's mysterious past. The Blackwell family, an old and wealthy name, had been the target of a major fraud decades ago. This left my mother-in-law, **Eleanor Blackwell**, 60, living in a state of heightened vigilance, like a retired spy.
The reception was in the Grand Ballroom. Over 200 elegant guests were raising their glasses in a toast.
“My love, you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” Ethan whispered in my ear, his arm gently tightening around my waist during our first waltz.
“And you are the most wonderful husband,” I replied.
While we were lost in the dance, Eleanor stood in a secluded corner, sipping a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. She wasn't wearing her usual flamboyant jewelry, but a discreet navy blue evening gown. What was noteworthy was her handbag – it was made of a thick material, seemingly armored leather.
Later, as the band switched to a more upbeat song, Ethan left me to get a drink. He was standing by the buffet table, engrossed in conversation with his best friend, Michael. This was the moment it all happened.
Eleanor Blackwell moved with surprising agility for a woman her age. She glided through the crowd like a ghost, approaching Ethan from behind.
I clearly saw her actions. From her armored handbag, Eleanor pulled out a small, flat, rectangular object. It was dark gray and non-reflective, resembling a **military USB drive** or some miniature electronic device.
With lightning speed, she **forcefully shoved it into Ethan's breast pocket**, where he wore his lapel pin. Ethan didn't even notice, as his back was turned.
I began to feel uneasy. What kind of behavior was that? A secret wedding gift?
As soon as she finished slipping the object into her son's pocket, Eleanor's gaze swept across the crowd. Her face, usually meticulously and gracefully made up, was now completely white with fear.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then, Eleanor stared intently at a point near the large doors of the ballroom.
Suddenly, she **SCREAMED!**
It wasn't a scream of joy. It was a raw, primal scream of utter terror, like someone trapped in a fire.
> **”RUN! RUN! EVERYONE GET OUT OF HERE!”**
That sound instantly cut short the romantic jazz music. The Grand Ballroom fell into a deathly silence, lasting only a brief second.
Then **chaos erupted**.
*Guests screamed, glasses shattered.
*Hotel security began moving toward Eleanor.
*Ethan turned, eyes wide with confusion, searching for his mother in the panicked crowd.
“Mom! What's wrong?” Ethan shouted.
Eleanor didn't answer. She grabbed my wrist with surprising force. “Charlie! Listen! **Run! Hold Ethan! Don't look back!**”
I couldn't understand what was happening. “Eleanor, calm down! What—”
But just then, a group of men in black suits, looking like action movie villains, burst through the front door. They weren't carrying guns, but their eyes were cold and menacing. Their target was clearly this room.
“They're here!” Eleanor snarled. She pushed Ethan and me toward the nearby emergency exit.
“Run toward the parking lot!” she ordered. Then, in a crazy, heroic act, she grabbed her armored handbag and threw it toward the men in black suits, creating a small dispersal.
Ethan, instinctively, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the service hallway. Our suits and wedding dress were now the most conspicuous target.
“What the hell is going on?” I gasped, trying to keep my dress from getting caught in the cleaning tools. “Is your mother in a movie?”
“It's not a movie, Charlie,” Ethan's voice lowered, serious. He wasn't flustered, but **completely alert**. “I think I've guessed it already. My mother… she calls this **'Gray Defense Plan.'**”
We ran downstairs
Down the emergency stairwell. The screams of guests and the clatter of pursuers' leather boots echoed from the upper floors.
“What is the Gray Defense Plan?” I asked, running.
“It's related to my father's old company and… and something they call **'Project Chronos.'** My mother warned me her whole life, but I think she was paranoid.”
“So what was that thing she put in your pocket?”
Ethan stopped abruptly when we reached the ground floor. He reached into his breast pocket, feeling the cold, flat object. He pulled it out.
It was a small, dark gray metal box, resembling a Zippo lighter but thicker.
“This is the **Chronus Archive**,” Ethan said, his eyes tense. “My mother said this is the final key. It contains the secrets my father spent his whole life hiding.”
We ran to the parking lot and climbed into the classic Mustang Ethan had rented as our wedding car.
Ethan unlocked the doors with the remote. “Get in!”
As Ethan was trying to start the engine, we saw three black sedans without license plates speed through the security gate. They blocked all the exits.
“This isn't good!” I exclaimed.
Ethan quickly reversed, slammed on the gas pedal, and crashed straight into the nearby hedge. The car sped onto the main road with a screeching sound of tires.
While driving, Ethan spoke to me in the tone of someone who had memorized this script long ago.
“Listen, Charlie. My mother isn't crazy. This plan is real. **Project Chronos** is a proprietary encryption technology designed to completely change how data is stored. My father invented it, but vicious competitors wanted it so badly… they **faked his death**.”
My stomach churned. “Faking death? This can't be true!”
“It's true. And the box in your hand is proof. Mother knows that our wedding day is the only time the entire Blackwell family will gather publicly. It's the **perfect trap** for them to catch you.”
Ethan quickly turned into a dark alley. He stopped the car and turned off the engine.
“We can't go any further in this car. The dress and the car are too conspicuous. We need to change clothes and find a place to hide. Hurry!”
He pointed to the metal box: “We need to know what's inside. It will tell us why they're chasing us like this.”
We abandoned the Mustang and ran. Ethan took me to a secondhand sports shop, hastily bought two sets of tracksuits and baseball caps. I threw the expensive wedding dress in the trash – a heartbreaking but necessary act.
Hidden in a quiet café, we stared at the **Chronos Storage** box. It had no buttons, no charging ports. It was like a metal sculpture.
“How do we open it?” I whispered.
Ethan closed his eyes. “Mom used to say, ‘The truth never opens easily. It needs a **personal code.'”
He tried his birth date, our wedding date. To no avail.
Then Ethan suddenly remembered something. He pulled out his old phone, always kept close.
“My mom made a **biometric programming** box,” Ethan said. “It will only open when placed near a **specific radio wave code.'”
Ethan opened a secret app on his phone, an app with an interface that was just a black screen with a small line of text. He placed the box on the screen.
*Beep… Beep…*
A small gap appeared on the side of the box. Ethan carefully slid the lid open.
Inside wasn't a diamond or a roll of paper. It was a **battery** and a tiny **microSD**, encased in protective gel.
“This thing…” Ethan inserted the microSD into his phone.
The only file was a short video, titled: **”LAST WILL & TESTAMENT – T. BLACKWELL.”**
Ethan and I held our breath as we watched.
Appearing on the screen was a middle-aged man, very similar to Ethan, but with tired eyes and an unshaven beard. It was **Thomas Blackwell**, Ethan's father, who was presumed dead.
“Son,” Thomas said, his voice hoarse. “If you're watching this, it means I've successfully given you the ‘Key.' I'm not dead. I'm being held captive in a place called **'The Vault'**—it's beneath our company's old warehouse on the outskirts of Nevada.”
Thomas looked into the camera, his eyes filled with despair.
“They forced me to create **Chronos 2.0**—an unbreakable encryption system. It can be used to conceal anything: assets, transactions, even the identities of an entire criminal organization. If they complete it, no one will be able to track them down anymore. You have to go there. You have to stop the upgrade. And you have to **activate the ‘Kill Switch'** that I hid in… in the box you're holding.”
Thomas coughed violently. “They've been watching us. They knew my mother would act on my wedding day… That's why she screamed. She saw them coming. She risked her life.”
“Give this to your son.”
Finally, Thomas said, his voice fading: **”Save me. Save the world.”**
The video ended.
Ethan put the phone down. His hands trembled. “Your father… Your father is alive.”
I took his hand, feeling his tension and shock. “And he's in Nevada. They don't just want you for the box. They want you because you're his son—maybe they need you to unlock something else.”
Ethan looked at me, his eyes filled with determination. “They ruined our wedding. They hurt my mother. And they're holding my father. I won't let this go. We're going to Nevada.”
He looked at the empty box, then pulled out the **Kill Switch** hidden at the bottom. It was a small, bright red USB drive.
“Charlie,” Ethan said, his voice returning to its calm tone. “Welcome to the Blackwell family.” Welcome to the adventure. Are you ready, my love?
I looked down at my fleece outfit, at the wedding ring on my finger. I was no longer an elegant bride; I was the wife of a man with a mysterious family.
“I'm ready,” I replied. “Show me the map of Nevada.” And we need to figure out how this **Destruction Switch** works.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Eleanor Blackwell had successfully slowed down her pursuers. She wasn't as weak as she appeared.
As the men in black suits approached, Eleanor tossed her armored bag. Instantly, the bag unlocked and emitted a deafening **high-frequency sound**, stunning those around and triggering the hotel's alarm system.
As two enemy agents staggered, Eleanor pulled out a self-defense pepper spray disguised as a lipstick and sprayed it directly into their faces. Then, she ran to another service staircase, pulled out her phone, and made a call.
“Plan B has been put into action,” she said to the person on the other end. “Ethan and Charlie have left. They went west.” **Activate ‘Sentry' in Reno.** I'll be right there.
Eleanor, not a victim, but a **part of a long-prepared defense network**, successfully sacrificed herself to buy time. She knew that to protect Project Chronos and her family, she had to become bait.
**The chaos at the wedding wasn't an unintentional incident. It was part of the Gray Defense Plan, designed to activate the Chronos Archive and draw Ethan into the fray.**