I nursed a cartel leader’s starving newborn at 40,000 feet—and minutes later, he stared directly into my eyes and delivered a promise that felt more like a prison sentence than a show of gratitude. By the time I understood what I was trapped in, escape was impossible.

The morning after the gala, I was in Julian's study, looking for a book to read to Leo, when I bumped a stack of files off his desk.

Papers scattered across the rug. I knelt to pick them up, and my blood turned to ice.

It was a police report from Boston. My police report. The crash that killed my fiancé, Mark.

But attached to it were surveillance photos of the truck that hit him. And the driver. It was a man I recognized from the gala. A Moretti enforcer.

Julian walked into the study and froze.

"Clara..."

"You knew," I choked out, stepping back, the papers trembling in my hands. "It wasn't a drunk driver. It was a hit. Why was my fiancé murdered by the Morettis?!"

Julian closed the door, his face etched in pain. "Because Mark wasn't who you thought he was, Clara. He was a money launderer for the Morettis. He skimmed two million off the top. They found out, and they silenced him."

My world spun. The man I had grieved, the life I had mourned, was entirely built on a lie.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I sobbed.

"Because I didn't want to break your heart!" Julian yelled, the absolute desperation in his voice shattering my anger. "You loved him! I couldn't bear to be the one to destroy your memories of him. I wanted to protect you from the ugliness of my world, even though you were already drowning in it."

He fell to his knees in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing his face to my stomach.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Clara. Let me avenge him. Let me avenge your daughter. I will burn the Moretti empire to ash for what they took from you."