The first time I saw my fiancée raise her hand toward my seven-year-old daughter, I was on my knees in the dirt pretending to be a gardener. Nobody at the charity brunch knew the quiet man trimming roses was Evan Whitaker—the mafia boss who owned half the fear in Connecticut—and nobody knew I had come home early to find out why my children had started flinching whenever my name was mentioned.

The betrayal stung worse than any bullet could have.

Marco had been by my side for a decade, eating at my table and swearing loyalty to my family.

I raised my hands slowly, locking eyes with Grace who was standing perfectly still with Caleb in her arms.

"Do what he says, Grace," I commanded, forcing my voice to remain perfectly steady.

She slowly crouched down, placing the silenced pistol carefully on the hardwood floor.

Marco laughed nervously, stepping back to keep both of us in his line of sight.

"It's nothing personal, Boss, but the Whitaker era ends tonight," Marco sneered.

Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, a deafening crash echoed from the front hall as the main doors were blown off their hinges.

The explosion shook the mansion, sending plumes of smoke and dust rolling into the library.

In the split second that Marco flinched, Grace kicked the heavy coffee table directly into his shins.

I spun around, swatting Marco's gun hand away just as his weapon discharged wildly into the ceiling.

I drove my fist into his throat, watching his eyes widen in agony as he collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

I snatched the black ledger from his grasp and grabbed the gun he had dropped.

"Go, go, go!" I yelled to Grace, covering her as she corralled the screaming children toward the secret bookcase door.

I punched in the keypad combination, shoving them into the dark, reinforced tunnel that led to the bunker.

Gunfire erupted in the hallway, shredding the antique paintings and shattering the beautiful crystal chandeliers.

I fired blindly into the smoke to suppress the advancing mercenaries before throwing myself into the tunnel.

I slammed the heavy steel door shut and spun the locking wheel just as bullets began pinging against the exterior.

We stood in the pitch-black tunnel, listening to the muffled shouts of the men tearing my home apart above us.

I turned on the emergency flashlight, intending to lead my family down to the secure underground bunker.

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My father bet twenty dollars that I would walk through his front door al...

My Husband Slapped Me Out of His House for His Mistress, Then the Most F...

My heart sank into my stomach as the beam of light illuminated the path ahead.

The steel vault door to the safe room was completely welded shut from the outside.

Chapter 4 - The Safe Room