From Trash to Treasure: The Sinclair Family's Beloved Genius Chapter 167: Courting Death

Chloe Sinclair’s heart sank.

Rembering what Eight had told her, she looked up at the robbers by the door, and a naless rage surged within her.

’What kind of monsters are these? After robbing a bank, they’re so afraid of being identified that they’re going to strap bombs to innocent people before they leave.’

The robbers turned back midway, their eyes crazed as they glared at the crowd.

Chloe Sinclair’s gaze darkened. She planted her right foot on the ground, tensed and ready to spring into action.

The robbers slowly approached. The people around them seed to have guessed what was coming. They wanted to cry but didn’t dare, only letting out soft whimpers. Adults clamped their hands tightly over their children’s mouths, muffling any sound.

In the face of life and death, everyone was trembling with fear.

"Don’t you want money?"

Chloe Sinclair suddenly stood up. Her voice was soft, but her words carried an icy chill.

The robbers stopped in their tracks and instinctively glanced back at their leader.

Chloe Sinclair’s sudden interruption threw a wrench in their plans. The leader was clearly taken aback for a mont.

But before he could speak, Chloe Sinclair said, "My father is Quentin Sinclair, the richest man in Kennet. My second brother is the youngest physicist in Zenthia. If you let us go, they’ll give you however much you want."

"You say you’re the daughter of Kennet’s richest man?" the robber scoffed. "How do I know if you’re telling the truth?"

Chloe Sinclair raised an eyebrow. "You can look it up online."

By now, information about her was all over the internet; it was impossible to hide.

So she had no reservations about revealing her identity this ti.

In fact, her words made the group of robbers hesitate.

"Boss, the broad really is Quentin Sinclair’s youngest daughter. Why don’t we kidnap her and score a huge payday?" one of the robbers said after a quick online search. He had found plenty of news about Chloe Sinclair and handed his phone to his boss.

The leader didn’t agree imdiately. His eyes were dark and his rims were red, filled with a thick killing intent.

After a long mont, the man shook his head, his voice extrely hoarse and cold as he said, "No. Quentin Sinclair is a notorious mad dog. Back in his younger days, he had connections in both the underworld and the establishnt. We’re no match for him, so we can’t take this job. Just kill the girl. We’ll destroy the body and erase all traces. If he can’t find any evidence, he won’t be able to trace it back to us. Then, we can take the money and go live like kings abroad."

After speaking, he made a throat-slitting gesture with a deadpan expression.

The other n had clearly done this before. They understood instantly, their gazes turning vicious as they closed in on Chloe Sinclair, step by step.

Chloe Sinclair’s eyes darkened. Just as she was about to make her move, the middle-aged woman from before stepped in front of her.

Standing behind her, Chloe Sinclair was slightly surprised.

The woman looked back at Chloe Sinclair. Seeing the look in her eyes, she assud the girl was afraid and comforted her, "Don’t be scared. Auntie’s here."

Then she turned back, a fierce glint in her eyes.

At that mont, fragnts of a mory from her past life—a mory of this very robbery—flashed through Chloe Sinclair’s mind.

Back then, the only person in the bank who had fought back against the robbers was this woman. She was a retired military police officer nad Susan Warren.

Even though she was retired, she still stood at the forefront when trouble arose.

The rims of Chloe Sinclair’s eyes turned red. Her large, ink-black eyes stared straight ahead, as still as a pool of stagnant water.

"Courting death," she said slowly, her voice devoid of emotion.