The Jilted Stray Is A Zillionaire Heiress

The driver didn't swerve or perform any reckless maneuvers. Instead, he accelerated with terrifying smoothness, overtaking the lead vehicle before precisely and decisively angling the massive Phantom across both lanes. He brought the vehicle to an imposing, regal halt. It wasn't a stunt; it was a statement of absolute dominance. It completely blocked the path of the approaching convoy: three armored black Range Rovers and a heavy-duty mobile ICU truck. The lead Range Rover slammed on its brakes, stopping less than two feet from the Phantom's doors. Instantly, the convoy erupted into a synchronized defensive formation. The doors of the Range Rovers flew open simultaneously. Eight Private Military Contractors, wearing heavy Kevlar vests and holding short-barreled automatic rifles, poured out into the rain. They fanned out in a flawless tactical wedge, raising their weapons. Eight black muzzles aimed directly at the Rolls-Royce. Christopher's face hardened. He recognized the insignia on their tactical gear. "Miss Palmer, stay inside. That is the Montoya family's private army. They control Wall Street. They will shoot first." Eloise ignored him. She pushed open the heavy door of the Phantom and stepped out into the storm. The freezing rain instantly soaked her trench coat, but her posture remained perfectly straight. She walked directly toward the barrels of the rifles. "Hands on your head! Get on your knees! Now!" the lead PMC captain roared over the sound of the rain, his finger resting heavily on the trigger. Eloise didn't even look at him. Her eyes were locked on the back of the mobile ICU truck. She could see the thick, black miasma of death swirling around the reinforced steel doors. Two massive guards broke formation. They charged at her, raising the heavy stocks of their rifles to smash her knees and force her down. Eloise didn't stop walking. As the first guard swung his weapon, she sidestepped by a fraction of an inch. She reached out, her fingers locking onto the pressure points of his wrist joint. With a sharp twist and a shift of her body weight, she used his own momentum against him. The two-hundred-pound mercenary flipped over her hip and crashed violently into the flooded asphalt. The second guard froze in shock. In that split second, Eloise slipped past him and reached the side of the mobile ICU. She raised her hand and knocked her knuckles against the bulletproof glass. Three sharp, heavy strikes. The sound cut through the storm, echoing loudly inside the armored cabin. The PMC captain racked the bolt of his rifle. The metallic clack was deafening. "Last warning! I will blow your head off!" Slowly, the black tinted window of the ICU truck rolled down just a few inches. The faint, blue glow of medical monitors spilled out into the dark rain. Eloise leaned toward the gap. "The man inside isn't dead yet," she said, her voice cutting through the noise of the storm. "I can save him." "Are you insane?" a shrill, arrogant woman's voice snapped from inside the cabin. "Shoot this psychotic scammer right now!" Eloise ignored the insult. She raised her hand, holding up three fingers. She looked through the crack in the glass, her expression entirely bored. "Consultation and intervention fee. Nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars. Cash or wire transfer." The highway fell dead silent. The only sound was the heavy rain hitting the asphalt and the heavy breathing of the mercenaries.