Chapter 45
Returning to the estate soaked in rain and soot, Silas walked into the command bunker. Despite the exhaustion etching his features, a proud smile touched his lips as he saw Clara flawlessly managing the global defense grid. But Clara was not satisfied with merely surviving the night; she was preparing to deliver a lethal, invisible strike.
"We cannot keep chasing his shadows across the continent," Clara said coldly, her fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard at a blinding pace. "The Phantom uses money to buy loyalty and mercenaries. I am going to make him the poorest man in the underworld."
Silas walked up behind her, wiping blood from his cheek. "He uses the Swiss dark banks. Their encryption is military-grade."
"So is mine," Clara replied, her eyes narrowing in absolute focus. "Before my father died, he bragged about the root access codes he used to build the original shadow banking infrastructure. He thought he was a god. But he left digital footprints in the architecture."
For three grueling hours, Clara waged a silent, brutal war in cyberspace. She bypassed the Swiss biometric firewalls, utilizing the backdoor exploits Graham Hart had designed decades ago. The Phantom’s master ledgers finally unraveled on her screen.
"I have his routing numbers," Clara whispered, a predatory thrill in her voice. "He has over five hundred million dollars sitting in localized, untraceable shell accounts."
"Burn it," Silas commanded.
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Clara didn't just burn it. With a few decisive keystrokes, she initiated a mass transfer, draining every single cent from the Phantom’s accounts and scattering the funds into thousands of anonymous, untraceable charitable cryptocurrency wallets around the globe.
As the final transfer completed, the terminal flashed a brilliant, triumphant green. Clara leaned back in her chair, a cold, ruthless smile gracing her features. She had just committed the greatest digital heist in the history of the syndicate without firing a single bullet. The Phantom was entirely bankrupt. He could no longer pay his mercenaries. He was nothing but a desperate, cornered animal.
