The mistress arrived at the gala on my husband's arm, wearing my dress and my late grandmother's bracelet. Everyone called her "Mrs. Albright," while I woke up drugged at home. My son took the microphone in front of 300 guests and said, "Now you can support my father yourself." But they still had no idea about the 68-million-dollars file waiting to be opened.

The deafening sound of crunching metal echoed through the cabin as our vehicle spun wildly out of control. We crashed violently into a heavy concrete barrier on the edge of the empty highway overpass. Airbags deployed with a blinding force, leaving me temporarily stunned and gasping for precious oxygen. I looked over to see Luke pushing the deflated airbag away, miraculously unharmed but visibly terrified. Our loyal bodyguard was slumped over the steering wheel, completely unconscious from the brutal physical impact. The heavy doors of the black truck swung open, and three masked men stepped out onto the asphalt. They were holding heavy assault rifles and marching directly toward our shattered bulletproof windows. I knew instantly that these men were not government agents, they were ruthless cartel cleaners sent by Christopher. I leaned forward and grabbed the heavy handgun from my unconscious bodyguard's tactical hip holster. I told Luke to get down on the floorboards and cover his ears immediately to protect his hearing. When the first masked mercenary reached for my door handle, I pulled the trigger without a single hesitation. The reinforced glass shattered outward as the heavy bullet struck the attacker securely in his right shoulder. He dropped his rifle and fell backward onto the road, screaming in absolute agony as his partners scrambled. I did not wait for them to regroup, I kicked the damaged door open and fired two more warning shots. The blaring sound of approaching police sirens echoed loudly from the busy city streets down below. The remaining attackers realized they were completely out of time and dragged their wounded comrade back to the truck. They sped off into the dark night, leaving us stranded but breathing in the smoking wreckage. I lowered the weapon and turned around to check on my son, my maternal instincts screaming in panic. The backseat of the armored vehicle was completely empty, with the opposite door hanging wide open. One of the highly trained men had managed to drag Luke out during the chaotic exchange of gunfire.