Chapter 6 - The Private Investigator
Connor screamed in absolute, blinding agony as the syringe clattered harmlessly onto the hospital floor.
The stranger did not hesitate for a single second, grabbing my brother by the throat and lifting him entirely off the ground.
The massive man wore a tailored black suit that barely concealed the lethal, military-grade weapons holstered under his arms.
He possessed cold, calculating eyes and a jagged scar that ran violently down the left side of his rugged face.
He casually threw Connor across the room, sending my pathetic brother crashing violently into the heavy wooden door.
Connor collapsed into a weeping, pathetic heap on the floor, clutching his shattered wrist and begging for his miserable life.
The stranger kicked Connor fiercely in the ribs, dragged him into the hallway, and tossed him directly to the federal guards waiting outside.
The man walked back into my room, locked the heavy deadbolt, and finally offered me a warm, reassuring smile.
He introduced himself as Sterling, a highly elite private investigator and former intelligence officer.
Sterling explained that Julian had secretly hired him as a silent backup plan in case my toxic family attempted an assassination.
He checked my vital signs gently and assured me that Julian was currently stable and recovering in the intensive care unit.
I felt tears of overwhelming gratitude streaming down my face as I thanked Sterling for saving my life from my own brother.
Sterling pulled a heavy, encrypted tactical laptop from his briefcase and placed it gently onto my lap.
He told me that it was time to permanently paralyze my family's financial future before they tried another desperate attack.
He had already bypassed the bank's security protocols and set up an untouchable, ghost-tier offshore trust account in my name.
He instructed me to press the enter key to officially transfer my two hundred and fifty thousand dollar savings out of their reach forever.
I slammed my finger onto the keyboard, feeling an incredible surge of pure, unadulterated triumph as the money disappeared from the local grid.
Sterling smiled grimly, but his expression suddenly darkened as a flashing red alert popped up on his secondary monitor.
He typed furiously on the keyboard, hacking directly into the national hospital organ transplant database system.
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He turned the screen toward me, revealing a live, horrifying video feed from a computer terminal in the hospital basement.
My mother Evelyn was sitting at the dark terminal, using stolen administrative credentials to manually delete my name from the kidney transplant waiting list.
