My stepmother thought I was broke, so she treated me like her personal baggage handler and laughed as she sent me to Economy / Chapter 44 / 53

Chapter 44 - The Trojan Protocol

The voice emanating from the stasis chamber didn't belong to a human throat; it was synthesized, layered with the metallic purr of a vocal modulator designed to mimic Evelyn’s patronizing drawl. My stepmother had not merely anticipated our arrival at the Arctic stronghold—she had turned my father’s deepest hope into a trojan horse.

Before Arthur could react, the glowing blue ocular implants of the surrogate flashed violently. A deafening pneumatic hiss tore through the cavernous hangar as the stasis chamber’s pressurized seals vented an opaque cloud of liquid nitrogen.

"Get down!" I roared, launching myself down the metal boarding stairs, taking four steps at a bound.

The tactical operatives in white winter gear—men my father had trusted with the Vance bloodline's deepest sanctuary—did not raise their rifles toward the rogue machine. Instead, half of them pivoted in unison, their carbine muzzles swinging toward Arthur and the boarding ramp of the jet. The betrayal was absolute, drilled with military precision. The Iron Tide had not pursued us; they had already arrived weeks ago, bought and paid for with the bearer shares Victoria and Evelyn had laundered through our shell accounts.

"Arthur Vance, stand down," the lead operative barked through a helmet speaker, his voice flat and robotic. "The sovereign vault is condemned under executive maritime seizure. Your assets belong to the Apex syndicate."

My father stood frozen in the sub-zero drift, his silver hair whipped by the draft of the blast doors. The walking cane lay at his boots, but the shock on his face rapidly hardened into an icy, unyielding fury that mirrored my own.

"You took my wife," Arthur whispered, his tone dropping below the ambient temperature of the hangar. "Where is Eleanor?"

From the vent of the cybernetic decoy, the synthetic voice chuckled. "Eleanor was never here, darling. She hasn’t seen Arctic snow in seven years. But you... you brought us the boy. You brought us the only biometric key left that can unlock the Sovereign Tier-One reserves."

Behind me on the jet's stairway, Clara appeared with her sidearm drawn, instantly sizing up the standoff. Inside the cabin behind her, Victoria was screaming through her gag, thrashing in terror against the leather First Class seat as she realized the monster her mother had created would happily liquidate her as collateral damage.

"They don't have the codes," I shouted to Arthur, locking eyes with my father across the twenty yards of frost-bitten concrete. "Father, drop!"

Arthur didn't hesitate. Despite his age, he dropped to one knee, sweeping his heavy winter coat around himself. In the same breath, I drew the subcompact service pistol tucked into my flight jacket and fired three center-mass rounds into the surrogate's glass visor.

The reinforced glass cracked into a spiderweb of white fractures, sparks erupting from the faux-skin forehead of the machine. The decoy let out a distorted electronic shriek, its metallic fingers clawing at the broken canopy.

"Fire!" the turncoat commander shouted.