My Boss Fired Me in Front of Everyone - Nine Minutes Later, Someone Used My Name to Reroute $28 Million in Cargo

I stared at the text message on my glowing screen, the vibration of the helicopter rattling through my bones.

My father was in federal lockup in Chicago, awaiting trial for twenty years of racketeering and trafficking. There was no way he could have access to a phone, let alone track my movements in Canadian airspace.

Unless someone had just updated him.

I slowly looked up from my phone. I looked at the back of Chloe’s head as she expertly piloted the chopper through the dark clouds.

“Chloe,” I yelled over the rotors. “How did you know Dr. Thorne’s biometric pulse was tied to the security grid?”

Chloe didn't turn around. She kept her eyes on the altimeter. “I told you, I did my research.”

“And how did you sneak a ceramic knife past metal detectors into the most secure laboratory in North America?”

Chloe reached up and adjusted her headset. She didn't answer.

My hand slowly crept toward the 9mm pistol in my tactical bag.

“You didn't break in, did you?” I realized, the horrifying truth settling like lead in my stomach. “You were never a prisoner. You didn't double-cross the FBI. You double-crossed Thorne.”

Chloe sighed softly. She engaged the autopilot, letting the helicopter level out at ten thousand feet, and slowly turned her seat around to face me.

She was holding Julian’s backup revolver, aimed directly at my chest.

“Dad was right,” Chloe smiled, that same twisted, empty smile. “You’re too smart to stay blind for long. Thorne was getting greedy. He wanted to cut the Chicago cartel out of the organ supply chain and source directly from Europe. Dad couldn't let that happen.”

“So Dad sent you here to assassinate Thorne and seize the Citadel,” I breathed. “And you used me to unlock the doors and hack the blast walls.”

“A family business requires teamwork, Em,” Chloe chuckled. “Dad faked the text from Thorne to lure you to Montreal. He knew Julian would try to sell you out. We just let the rats eat each other, and you kindly unlocked the vault for us.”

“And the eighty-five million?” I asked, gripping my bag.

“I need you to transfer it into the Carter family trust account,” Chloe said, extending her empty hand. “Right now. Or I’ll put a bullet in your knee and fly this chopper straight into the Atlantic.”

I looked at the gun. I looked at my sister. The girl I had mourned for seven years. The girl who had manipulated every ounce of love I had left in my heart.

“No,” I said softly.

“Don't test me, Emily,” Chloe’s finger tightened on the trigger. “I killed Thorne. I’ll kill you.”

“I know you will,” I replied, unzipping my tactical bag completely.

I didn't pull out a gun.

I pulled out the heavy canister of compressed surgical oxygen Chloe had used to smash the guard in the lab. I had quietly slipped it into my bag before we left.

I placed the muzzle of my 9mm pistol directly against the pressurized valve of the oxygen tank.

“Put the gun down, Chloe,” I said, my voice dead calm. “Or I shoot the tank. It will blow a hole through the fuselage and shred the rotors. We both die.”

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