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Chapter 672
Chapter 672:
Silas swallowed hard. Apex Ventures was a ghost — an offshore shell company registered in the Cayman Islands, funded by Grayson’s personal, untraceable investments accumulated over the past decade. It was his escape hatch from the family trust.
Silas typed rapidly. A login screen appeared.
Grayson pulled the laptop closer. His fingers moved across the keyboard, entering a twenty-four-character dynamic encryption key that existed nowhere but his own memory. The screen flashed green. The account balance loaded — a staggering sum of hidden wealth.
Grayson did not hesitate. He navigated to the wire transfer protocol and entered the routing number for InnoTech’s primary offshore receiving account.
𝘓𝗮tе𝘀𝘵 сh𝗮𝗉𝗍𝘦rѕ o𝗻
“Sir, this is federal securities fraud,” Silas whispered, sweat beading on his forehead. “If the SEC traces this back to you, you will go to prison p>
“The routing passes through three different sovereign nations before it reaches her account,” Grayson replied coldly. “It is invisible p>
In the memo field, he typed a legally ambiguous justification: Advance payment for future strategic technology licensing.
He pressed enter.
A progress bar filled rapidly across the screen from left to right.
Transfer Complete.
Fifty million dollars vanished into the digital ether.
Three miles away, in a dark and cluttered apartment, Belle Escobar lay on her bed, sobbing hysterically into a pillow.
Her phone on the nightstand suddenly vibrated. The screen lit up with a notification from her private offshore bank.
Belle went still. She picked up the phone and stared at the string of zeros on the display.
Her breath hitched. A wild, manic laugh erupted from her throat. She fell back onto the bed, clutching the phone to her chest. Grayson had done it. He had defied the old woman. He had saved her.
At that same moment, in a high-tech monitoring room inside Isolde’s apartment, Isolde sat before three glowing screens in an oversized sweater, her hair tied up in a messy bun.
A red alert box flashed on the center monitor.
Her lead hacker, a young prodigy operating out of Eastern Europe, spoke through her encrypted headset.
“Sophia,” the hacker said, his voice crackling with excitement. “The Trojan horse script we planted in InnoTech’s internal financial servers during the audit sweep just triggered a massive anomaly alert. A fifty-million-dollar wire transfer just hit InnoTech’s offshore account. The origin is masked through the Caymans, but our backdoor caught the exact receiving timestamp and routing protocol p>
Isolde stopped typing. She leaned closer to the screen.
She studied the digital footprint of the transaction. The routing was extraordinarily sophisticated, engineered to evade federal oversight entirely.
There was only one man in New York arrogant enough — and desperate enough — to execute a shadow transfer of that magnitude to save Belle Escobar.
A slow, freezing smile spread across Isolde’s face.
She felt a surge of dark, predatory calm.
Grayson thought he was being clever. He thought he was saving his pride.
Instead, he had just committed a massive federal financial crime and handed her the ultimate weapon.
“Do not trace it back to the source,” Isolde ordered, her voice sharp and precise. “If you probe the Cayman servers, his security protocols will alert him. Just download the receipt of the transaction and the destination IP p>