Chapter 7 - The Ghost Account
I stared at the glowing screen of my phone in absolute disbelief.
The bank alert confirmed that fifty million dollars had just been moved to the Cayman Islands.
"He stole everything before Julian even shot him," I said, showing the notification to Julian.
Julian frowned deeply and laid Mila gently in the back seat of his car.
"That is impossible, Callie," Julian replied, starting the engine.
"Axton was on the catwalk with a gun the entire time, he never touched a computer."
The realization hit me like a physical blow to the chest.
"He did not initiate the transfer," I whispered, my mind racing through the horrific possibilities.
"Someone else has access to my accounts, and they are working with him."
We sped toward the nearest emergency room, the flashing hospital signs cutting through the dark night.
I handed Mila over to the trauma team, praying she would survive the massive blood loss.
Julian pulled me into a quiet corner of the waiting room and handed me his laptop.
"Log into your secure portal and trace the IP address of the unauthorized transfer," Julian instructed urgently.
I typed my emergency override credentials and bypassed the primary security wall.
The origin of the transfer was not an offshore server or a hidden dark web location.
The money had been transferred using the IP address registered to my own mother's house.
"My mother?" I gasped, completely paralyzed by the betrayal.
"She has been complaining about money for years since Dad died," I remembered out loud.
Julian closed the laptop, his pale eyes narrowing with intense focus.
"Axton did not find Mila by accident, Callie," Julian deduced coldly.
"Your mother hired Axton to marry you so they could split the inheritance."
My entire family had conspired with a serial killer to steal my life.
I stood up, wiping the remaining tears from my face as a new, terrifying anger consumed me.
"We are going to my mother's house right now," I declared, grabbing the pistol from Julian's coat.
May you like
We drove silently through the sleeping city, pulling up to the large suburban estate where I grew up.
The front door was already standing wide open.
