You’re too handsome to be alone,” my six-year-old daughter announced in the middle of the executive hallway, staring straight at the coldest billionaire in Manhattan. “I think you should be my daddy.” Every person around us froze, while I stood there absolutely certain my career had just ended.

Mia looked at Adrian kneeling on the floor and tilted her head in innocent curiosity. "Are you checking for monsters under the bed?" she asked, clutching her stuffed elephant tightly. Adrian laughed, that same warm, unguarded sound that had started this entire crazy journey. He turned to my daughter, remaining on one knee to meet her exactly at eye level. "Mia, I am actually asking your mommy if I can officially be your daddy," Adrian said gently. Mia's face instantly lit up with the brightest, most beautiful smile I had ever seen. "I told you he should be my daddy!" Mia cheered, running over to hug his neck tightly. Tears of absolute joy streamed down my face as I nodded my head vigorously. "Yes," I cried, pulling them both into a massive, tangled embrace on the floor. "I will marry you, Adrian." Two weeks later, we stood before a private judge in the Hamptons and officially became a family. David was sentenced to twenty years in federal prison, and Victoria was completely banished from the corporate world. Adrian officially adopted Mia, giving her his last name and the ultimate protection of his powerful legacy. Our peaceful new life felt like an absolute, beautiful dream that I never wanted to wake up from. Then, the morning mail arrived at our new beachfront estate. Inside a plain white envelope was a photograph of Mia playing at her new private school. Written on the back in fresh red ink were the words: "She has her true grandfather's eyes, and the Volkov syndicate is coming to collect its rightful heir."