The Real Heiress Rules the World (Sloane Rivers) novel Chapter 409

Chapter 409 Danger Looks Good on Us

Jaime shot Lucas a glare through the rearview mirror. “The fake ID you used to buy those meds? That was mine, remember?” He tossed over a medical kit. “You think you can shake me that easily? Not a chance.”

Lucas let out a weary sigh. He hadn’t wanted to drag Jaime into this mess, yet the guy had come chasing after them anyway.

As Sloane quickly cleaned and dressed Lucas’s wound, she said, “We found a tracker on Shawn earlier–that’s how they caught up so fast.”

A sharp glint flashed in Lucas’s eyes. “Sloane, lose the tail first.”

Sloane opened her laptop at once, fingers flying across the keys. “Give me thirty seconds.” Streams of code scrolled down the screen; within moments, the surveillance feeds from several nearby intersections froze, then looped over empty street footage.

“Cameras are under our control,” she reported. “They can’t see us anymore.”

Jaime swerved sharply into a narrow alley. “Nice work!” He gave a low whistle. “So–what’s the plan now?”

“First, we make sure we’ve really shaken them,” Lucas said, watching the mirrors until he was certain no police cars followed. Then he took Sloane’s laptop from her. “Now it’s our turn to hit back.”

His fingers moved swiftly, the lines of code pouring down the screen like a waterfall. “Hacking into Mirevia’s police network will take a minute…” Five minutes later, he hit Enter with a decisive tap. “Done. I’ve planted a virus in their wanted database—it’ll block facial recognition for us temporarily.”

Jaime pulled over beside an abandoned factory. “I’ll handle new identities.” He dialed a number. “Hey, it’s me–Jaime. I need a favor.”

An hour later, he returned carrying four envelopes. “Granite Avenue Investment Consultant, Medical Advisor, and…” He glanced at the unconscious Shawn. “Terminally ill tycoon with his private caretaker.”

Lucas flipped through the forged documents, nodding. “Good work.” He turned to Sloane. “Can you track Charlie’s location?”

Sloane was already scanning the city’s surveillance grid. “He’s at a private club in the financial district–looks perfectly at ease.”

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“Good,” Lucas said with a cold smile. “Let him enjoy it while he can. We’ll get settled first, then settle the score.”

Soon after, Lucas transformed into a poised corporate elite; the deep gray suit accentuated his tall frame, and sharp eyes glinted behind gold–rimmed glasses. Sloane became a composed medical consultant, her lab coat layered over a sleek business outfit, hair neatly twisted into a bun. Jaime took on the role of a professional caretaker, moving with calm precision in spotless scrubs as he pushed the wheelchair carrying their patient–Shawn, carefully disguised as a wealthy man in a coma.

The trio checked into a luxury hotel in the city center without raising a single eyebrow.

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