A Rich Socialite Pulled a Gun on the Woman Protecting a Crying 6-Year-Old Boy. Seconds Later, a Tower of Champagne Came Crashing Down—And a Dark Family Secret Was About to Be Exposed! / Chapter 47 / 50

Chapter 47 - AMBUSH ON THE ROOSEVELT TRAM

Thirty minutes later, the patrol boat smashed against the wooden pilings of an abandoned barge slip directly beneath the Queensboro Bridge.

Daniel killed the engines. Sleet was falling heavier now, turning into thick, wet snow that blanketed the streets of Manhattan in an eerie, muffled silence. Towering directly above them, the massive steel lattice of the Queensboro Bridge loomed into the night sky, and running parallel to it were the thick, steel support cables of the Roosevelt Island Tramway.

High above, docked at the Manhattan terminal on 60th Street, was the iconic red tram car—empty, dark, waiting for the dawn shift that would never come.

"We have ten minutes before those interceptors dock," Daniel said, lifting Noah onto his shoulders. "Clara, take this."

He handed her the Glock. There were only four rounds left in the magazine.

"Daniel, you’re bleeding through the tarp," Clara said, her voice choking as she saw the dark crimson stain spreading across his abdomen.

"I’m fine," he lied, his face as gray as the river. "Once we get into that cabin and download the decryption master files to a public satellite relay, Elizabeth’s empire is destroyed forever. The media will have the unredacted truth. She won't have any reason to kill Noah."

They scrambled up the metal fire escape behind the tramway terminal, slipping through a shattered glass maintenance window into the control room. The terminal was silent, deserted due to the citywide lockdown.

Daniel breached the electronic override panel, manually forcing the pneumatic boarding doors of Tram Car #1 to slide open with a loud, mechanical hiss.

They stepped inside the massive glass-and-steel aerial carriage. The interior was spacious, with yellow handrails and panoramic windows overlooking the entire frozen metropolis.

Daniel walked directly to the ceiling inspection hatch, using a pry bar from the control room to force open the metal panel. Inside, nestled amidst the heavy pneumatic suspension pulleys, was a military-grade titanium server box, glowing with a steady, pulsating blue LED light.

"It’s here," Daniel breathed. "The entire archive. Victoria’s dead-man switch."

He reached for the cable.

*CLANG.*

The heavy steel boarding doors slammed shut behind them with the force of a hydraulic clamp.

A computerized voice echoed through the tram's public address system: *System engaged. Automated maintenance cycle initiated. Transit to Roosevelt Island commencing.*

The heavy cables groaned overhead. With a sudden, sickening jolt, the tram car swung out into the open air, suspended high above the traffic-choked streets, gliding out over the dark, freezing expanse of the East River.

And then, the lights inside the car flickered on.