The most feared man in the city came home early and found his housekeeper’s three-year-old daughter standing on a stool, scrubbing one of his custom-made shirts with freezing water because she believed her sick mother would be fired if it stayed dirty. Everyone expected me to explode in anger, but one heartbreaking sentence from that little girl ripped open a past I had spent my entire life trying to bury.

I sprinted up the dark basement stairs, ignoring the blinding smoke filling the main corridors of my home. The sounds of heavy gunfire and shattering glass echoed violently from the front foyer. I barked orders into my radio, commanding my men to establish a defensive perimeter around the grand staircase. I needed to reach Clara and Nora before Antonio's strike team breached the inner wings of the mansion. I moved with lethal precision, dropping two rival soldiers who tried to ambush me near the dining room. My heart pounded furiously against my ribs as I reached the hidden servant quarters where Clara was resting. I kicked the heavy oak door open, my gun raised and ready to eliminate any threat inside. The medical equipment was completely smashed, and the IV pole was violently overturned on the hardwood floor. Clara's bed was entirely empty, leaving nothing but a crumpled blanket and a terrifying silence. I cursed loudly, spinning around and sprinting toward the secure guest wing to find little Nora. I turned the corner and found my two elite guards lying motionless on the expensive hallway rug. The thick, reinforced door to Nora's bedroom had been completely blown off its heavy steel hinges. I walked into the ruined bedroom, my chest tightening with a panic I had not felt since I was a child. The massive bed was empty, and the window overlooking the rear gardens was completely shattered. I stepped carefully over the broken glass, looking desperately for any clue of where they had gone. Caught on the jagged edge of the broken window frame was a shredded piece of Harland's expensive tailored suit jacket. The traitor had somehow escaped the basement during the explosion and used the chaos to kidnap them both. My radio buzzed again, this time broadcasting a completely unfamiliar, deeply arrogant voice. Antonio Rossi laughed through the static, mocking my pathetic inability to protect the people under my roof. He told me that he was taking his daughter back and leaving Clara to die in the dirt where she belonged. He warned me that if anyone followed his convoy, he would execute the woman immediately and send me her head.