His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 746 I am in danger!

Bella checked her phone. She was still thinking about the car with tinted windows, the way it had stopped right beside her, the way she could not see inside. She told herself it was nothing, just a driver who was not paying attention, just traffic, just bad luck.

She looked down at her screen, scrolling through messages. Leo had texted her asking if she was on her way home. Miss J had sent a photo of the dress references she found online. Jason had sent a blurry picture of a sunset with a caption that said, "Wish you were here."

She smiled. Then she heard loud sounds behind her.

Bang.

Bang.

The sounds were sharp, sudden, and too close. Bella’s head snapped up. She looked out the rear window, and her blood ran cold.

Her guard car, the black SUV that always followed a few car lengths behind her, had been hit. The front was crumpled like crushed paper, smoke rising from the hood in thick gray clouds. The guards were scrambling out, shouting and pointing. One of them had his hand pressed to his head. Blood dripped between his fingers, dark red against his pale skin. Another was on the ground, not moving.

Behind her guard car, coming down the road fast, was a truck. A delivery truck, or maybe something even larger. Its grille was wide like a gaping mouth, its headlights blinding white and it was moving straight toward her car, not slowing down or stopping but gaining speed.

Bella’s mind went blank. For one second, just one, she could not think, could not move, could not breathe. The truck was getting closer. The driver of her car was frozen, his hands gripping the wheel, his face pale as snow. His lips were moving, but no sound came out.

Then her instinct kicked in.

She grabbed her phone and opened Leo’s chat. Her fingers flew across the screen, typing faster than she ever had before. She sent her location. She typed: I am in danger!

She did not wait for a response.

"Drive," she said to the driver. Her voice was calm. She did not feel calm but she sounded like she was.

The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror. His eyes were wide, wet, and terrified. "Ma’am—"

"Drive. Now."

He pressed the gas. The car lurched forward, tires squealing against the asphalt.

Bella looked back again. The truck was still coming. Her guard car was behind it, trying to catch up, but the truck was too big and too fast. It had already passed them. It was coming straight for her. Behind the truck, she saw the same black car with tinted windows, the one from the intersection, the one she had told herself was nothing. It was following them too.

Bella’s heart pounded. Her hands were shaking but her mind was already working, already planning, already looking for a way out.

"Don’t be scared," she told the driver. She did not know if she was saying it to him or to herself.

He did not answer. His hands were gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles were white. The car was swerving slightly, his fear making his driving shaky.

The truck was getting closer. The road ahead was straight and flat, leading toward the highway. If they kept going like this, the truck would catch them, and if it caught them, they would crash. The thought of metal crunching, glass shattering, and her body being thrown made her push it away.

Bella looked at the road ahead, then at the side streets, then at the buildings passing by in a blur. Her mind was racing faster than the car. She pulled out her tablet. Her fingers moved fast, hacking into the city’s satellite footage, bypassing security firewalls she had cracked months ago, pulling up live images of the roads around them.

She saw the truck and the black car. She saw her own car, a small dot on the screen, racing through the streets like a mouse fleeing a hawk.

She took screenshots. She captured the truck’s license plate, the black car’s plate, and the faces of the drivers, blurred but visible through windshields. One of them was wearing a mask. She could not see his face. She sent everything to Leo, to her guards, to everyone who could help.

The car jolted. The truck had bumped them.

Bella’s phone flew out of her hand. She grabbed it before it hit the floor.

Another jolt, harder this time. The driver cried out. The car swerved, nearly hitting a lamppost.

"Ma’am, we are going to die!" His voice cracked. Tears streamed down his face. His whole body was shaking.

Bella’s heart was in her throat. Her whole body was shaking too. But she did not scream. She did not cry. She had to remain calm to solve this problem. She grabbed her tablet and kept working.

"We are not going to die," she said. Her voice was still calm. She did not know how. "Keep driving. Don’t stop."

The truck hit them again, harder. The car spun slightly, tires squealing against the asphalt. Bella held onto her seat, her body slamming against the door. Pain shot through her shoulder. She gritted her teeth.

Bella looked at the satellite footage. The highway was coming up fast. If they reached it, the truck would have more room to maneuver, more room to hit them and more room to push them off the road. She needed a way out.

She looked at the side streets, the alleys, and the gaps between buildings. There was a narrow road, barely wide enough for a car. It led into a residential area full of twists and turns. The truck would not be able to follow. It was too big.

"Turn left at the next street," she said.

"Ma’am—"

"Trust me. Turn left."

The driver’s hands were trembling but he turned.

The car screeched around the corner, tires squealing like wounded animals. The narrow road was dark, lined with old buildings and parked cars. Laundry hung from balconies above. A cat darted out of the way just in time. Bella held on, her body slamming against the door again as the car bounced over a pothole.

Behind them, the truck tried to follow. It was too wide. It got stuck between the buildings, its sides scraping against the brick walls with a deafening screech of metal on stone. Sparks flew like fireworks. The engine roared in frustration, then went silent.

But the black car was still behind them. It was smaller. It could fit. It turned after them, tires squealing, headlights cutting through the dim street.