The maid secretly helped my paralyzed daughter take her first steps while the rest of my family had already given up on her. Hours later, they accused that same woman of stealing a priceless necklace—but the hidden camera in my daughters’ room had recorded far more than anyone realized.

WOOOO-WOOOO-WOOOO!

The sharp, concussive sound of the perimeter alarm shattered the peace of the rose garden.

Within three seconds, eight armed guards in black tactical gear burst onto the lawn, their weapons drawn, forming a tight defensive wall around me, Elena, and the twins.

"Boss!" Mateo’s voice came crackling through the radio mounted on my shoulder collar. "We have multiple vehicles breaching the outer gate! It’s the Romano syndicate!"

My jaw set into iron.

The Romano family controlled the southern shipping docks of Chicago. For three years, my mother had maintained a tense, fragile peace treaty with Don Vincent Romano—a treaty secured by immense monthly payoffs from the Moretti accounts.

Now that I had frozen my mother's access to those accounts, Vincent Romano had come to collect.

"Mateo, take the girls and Elena into the panic room beneath the study," I ordered, grabbing Elena’s arm, pulling her behind my broad frame.

"No!" Elena gasped, clutching my forearm with surprisingly strong fingers. "Mr. Moretti, don't go out there alone!"

"They aren't here for a polite discussion, Elena," I said, looking down into her terrified eyes. "This is my world. It’s loud, it’s violent, and it ends today."

"Daddy!" Lily squeaked, clutching Elena’s skirt.

I knelt down quickly, kissing both of my daughters on their foreheads. "Go with Elena, girls. Play the quiet game in the safe room. I'll be right there."

"Promise?" Sofia asked, her brown eyes searching mine.

"I promise," I said.

I looked up at Elena. "Keep them safe."

"With my life, Adrian," she said. It was the first time she had ever spoken my first name. The sound of it coming from her lips felt like a warm iron plate pressed against my chest.

She gathered the girls into her arms, carrying Sofia while leading Lily, and vanished down the stone stairs leading into the basement reinforced bunker alongside Mateo.

I turned around, reaching into my jacket, pulling my matte-black custom heavy-caliber weapon from its leather holster.

I walked through the grand glass doors, stepping out onto the front driveway just as three heavy armored SUVs smashed through the iron security gates, tearing up the pristine green lawn, coming to a halt twenty yards from the front steps.

The vehicle doors slammed open.

Fifteen men in dark suits stepped onto the cobblestones, holding submachine guns.

Stepping out from the center vehicle was Don Vincent Romano—a heavy, gray-haired man of sixty with a silver walking cane and eyes like a vulture.

"Adrian Moretti!" Vincent bellowed, his gravelly voice echoing off the stone walls of the mansion. "Where is your mother? She missed her monthly settlement transfer by four hours!"

I walked down the marble steps alone, stopping ten feet from his line of sight, my weapon resting comfortably at my side.

"My mother no longer manages the Moretti funds, Vincent," I said, my voice cold and flat as mountain ice. "And the settlement transfers are finished."

Vincent chuckled—a dry, rasping sound—and leaned heavily on his silver cane.

"You think you can just cancel an agreement negotiated by your father twenty years ago, boy?" Vincent sneered. "Your mother kept the peace because she knew what would happen if the Romano syndicate decided to take the northern docks by force!"

"My mother kept the peace because she was using your syndicate to launder money she stole from my late wife," I countered, taking one slow step toward him. "The peace is over, Vincent. Get off my land."

Vincent’s smile vanished. His dark eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"I hear you have two little girls in that big house, Adrian," Vincent said softly, a vile, cruel edge creeping into his tone. "One of them can't even run away from a bullet. It would be a shame if this beautiful garden became a graveyard."

The world went red.

The cold, calculating strategist inside me died, replaced by the instinct of a father whose children had just been threatened by a predator.