"My ex left me for a millionaire and didn’t send one dollar for our daughter for three years. Then, out of nowhere, he mailed her a dirty old doll. I almost threw it away… until I woke up at 3 a.m. and saw my little girl pulling something out of its stomach: “Save me. I’m being held captive.”

We left Lily in the care of Marcus’s sister, a tough, no-nonsense ER nurse who lived in a fortified cabin in the mountains. Leaving my daughter behind was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I knew it was the only way to keep her safe.

"We have to cut the head off the snake," Marcus said as we sat in his SUV, overlooking the glittering expanse of Los Angeles. "Mary-Ann is hosting the annual Sterling Foundation Charity Gala tonight at her Beverly Hills estate. It’s her big public appearance. The security will be focused on the perimeter and the guests."

"How do we get in?" I asked, staring at the blueprints of the estate Marcus had managed to pull from city records.

"We don't go through the front door," he said. "Caterers. I have a guy who owes me a favor. We're going in wearing white aprons."

By 8:00 p.m., I was wearing a crisp white catering uniform, carrying a tray of champagne flutes through a mansion that looked like a modern art museum. The wealth on display was nauseating. Crystal chandeliers, Renaissance paintings, and hundreds of Los Angeles elite wearing expensive masks and designer gowns.

And there she was.

Mary-Ann Hodges. "Victoria Sterling." She was holding court near the grand staircase, wearing a stunning red silk gown and a diamond masquerade mask. She looked radiant, powerful, and utterly ruthless. To the world, she was a philanthropist. To me, she was the monster holding my ex-husband in a cage.

My earpiece crackled. "Sarah, it's Marcus," his voice came through softly. He was monitoring the security feeds from a hijacked server in the catering van. "The blueprints show an old wine cellar in the sub-basement. It’s not on the main grid. If she's holding Julian anywhere, it’s down there. You need to find the service elevator behind the kitchens."

I nodded slightly, turning away from the ballroom. My heart hammered against my ribs as I slipped past the bustling chefs and found the heavy steel door marked 'Authorized Personnel Only.'