Chapter 8 - The Biometric Lock
We huddled in the back of Greg's stolen Mercedes, watching the boathouse burn from a safe distance.
I handed the antibiotics to Emily, and she quickly swallowed them dry.
I realized that running was no longer a viable option.
As long as Margaret had her billions, she would never stop hunting us down.
I opened the laptop and accessed the files I had stolen from Greg's dental clinic server.
Greg had already done the hard work of organizing all of Margaret's secret offshore accounts.
He had created a backdoor into the Whitaker family trust to steal the money for himself.
I hijacked his connection and initiated a total liquidation of all my mother's assets.
I typed in the routing numbers for a dozen anonymous charities across the globe.
I hit the final enter key, ready to drain her empire to absolute zero.
A red warning message flashed across the dark screen.
The system required a dual biometric confirmation to authorize transfers over fifty million dollars.
I needed Margaret's personal thumbprint and retinal scan to finish the job.
The burner phone in my pocket rang again.
I answered it, expecting to hear my brother's dying curses.
Instead, I heard Margaret's chilling, elegant voice echoing through the speaker.
She laughed softly, mocking my attempt to steal her money.
May you like
She told me that the money didn't matter anymore, because the game was already over.
She cheerfully informed me that the wine Emily drank at Christmas dinner had been laced with a slow-acting synthetic poison.
