Chapter 176 ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SIX

Chapter 176 ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SIX
Scarlett's POV

When we reached the outskirts of the first major city, it was mind-blowing.

Bellamy had been hidden deep in the quiet countryside of upstate New York, far away from regular civilization. Seeing ordinary people of all ages simply walking around the sidewalks, carrying groceries, and going about their everyday lives felt almost surreal.

I knew we looked like quite an odd, dusty group sitting in the back of an open fruit truck, but nobody on the busy streets really looked twice at us. People were far too busy with their own routines to care.

The vehicle eventually pulled to a stop near a gas station lot, and the driver hopped down from the cab. He walked around to the side, looking up at us. "I'm stopping here for a few minutes to grab some supplies," he called out before walking away into a convenience shop.

I looked longingly toward the storefront. I wanted to go into a shop so badly to buy basic things, but we obviously didn't have cash on us.

Actually, I had money—an entire fortune sitting in a bank account under my name, left behind by Greg. I just couldn't touch it yet.

I turned impatiently to Blue, leaning close to him. "Tell me about this plan of yours to get the money."

Blue shook his head slightly at my eagerness, a small smirk playing on his lips, but he shifted his position on the wooden crates to speak to me directly.

"Greg set up that fund under your legal name, right?" Blue asked, his voice low so only I could hear.

"Yes," I nodded. "With all the proper documentation."

"Right. But the moment you walk into a bank branch as Scarlett to withdraw a massive sum of cash, flags will go off in their system," Blue explained calmly. "Your father and the authorities will have your legal name flagged across all standard financial networks after the disaster at Bellamy."

"So how do we get around that?"

"We don't go to a standard bank branch, and we don't go in person as Scarlett," Blue said, his grey eyes calculating. "Greg didn't just leave you a simple checking account. He used a private wealth management firm that operates through secondary proxy accounts. I know two guys outside the institute who specialize in cleaning digital paper trails and handling third-party wire transfers. They can access the master account remotely using your security codes and redirect small, untraceable chunks into clean, non-registered prepaid debit cards and cash drop locations."

I stared at him, impressed. "And that won't alert anyone?"

"Not if it's broken down into smaller amounts," Blue answered plainly. "It takes a little time to process, but it keeps your identity off the grid while giving us full access to the funds."

"When would this be?" I asked eagerly.

Blue looked down at me, his gaze softening. "As soon as we want, dear. Did Greg ever get any means of identification from you?"

I pursed my lips giving it a deep thought. "I remember on one of our rare good days, he asked me to press my thumb to his ink pad and onto a piece of paper to see if my thumbprint was similar to my mother's. Now that I think about it, it's a suspicious request”.

Blue nodded. "That's what he used. Don't worry, it will all work out. I'll begin the process the moment we settle in."

Blue then turned his attention to Orion, who looked like he was dozing off against the side of the truck bed. Blue reached out with his shoe and gently tapped Orion's leg. "Hey. What's the name of the place where your grandma's ranch is?"

Blue was clearly hoping the property hadn't been overtaken or sold off in his absence.

Orion startled awake, scratching his head nervously as he tried to recall the details. "I think... it's near Hudson Valley. A small rural district called Pine Plains."

Blue nodded, absorbing the name. "We will ask the man how to get there when he comes back."

A few minutes later, the middle-aged farmer returned from the shop carrying a paper bag. Rachael immediately stuck her head over the side of the truck bed, putting on a sweet, friendly tone. "Excuse me, sir! Do you know how we would get to Pine Plains from here? That's where our home is."

The man stopped, looking up at our large, mismatched group with raised eyebrows. "Do all of you kids stay out there? You cannot possibly be siblings."

Rachael didn't miss a beat. "We live in a shared community with our different families. Surely that is not so strange."

The man nodded repeatedly, nodding along to her explanation. "Ah, I see. Well, this is how you will get there. I'm taking this highway route up north, so I can drop you off at the junction near Route 199. From that drop-off point, you just take the local east road heading toward the valley. It's not too far from there—maybe a short local ride or a couple of miles on foot."

"Thank you so much!" we all murmured in unison, genuinely appreciating his help.

The man started the engine again, and the truck pulled back onto the main road to continue the drive.

When we finally reached the junction he mentioned, he pulled over to the shoulder. Before we climbed down, he reached into his wallet, pulled out a stack of folded bills, and handed them to Stan. "Here. It's for some food and drinks for you kids."

While the group gushed their sincere appreciation, Blue stepped forward. "Can we have your phone number?"

The man looked surprised by the request, but he smiled and nodded. "Sure." He grabbed a pen from his dashboard, scribbled his contact details on a piece of paper, and handed it to Blue.

We all waved as the man drove away, leaving us standing together at the edge of the quiet country road.

From there, our short journey to the ranch began. We did everything we could to stay as inconspicuous as possible, avoiding main town centers and sticking to secondary roads. Stan used part of the cash the farmer gave us to buy loaves of bread, cold water, and simple pre-made sandwiches from a small roadside gas station.

We managed to catch two short free rides along the way—first in the back of a local contractor's pickup truck, and later from an older couple driving a small horse trailer who didn't mind letting us sit in the back. Whenever a ride wasn't available, we walked along the quiet dirt paths.

Throughout the trek, the nurse kept a close eye on both Blue and Tanner. Every few hours, whenever we stopped to rest under the shade of the trees, she checked their bandages, monitored their temperatures, and gave them strong painkillers to make sure their wounds were healing nicely and not getting infected from the movement.

By late afternoon, after a final twenty-minute walk down a long, winding gravel path lined with overgrown trees, we finally arrived at our destination.

The ranch stood before us under the warm sun. It was a large, beautiful wooden property surrounded by rolling green hills and old wooden fences. It definitely looked quite run-down—the paint on the house was peeling, the grass was wild and unkempt, and the porch steps needed some work—but it was solid, private, and wonderful.

It was nothing a little touch-up couldn't fix.