"THE BILLIONAIRE'S MAID KICKED THE BRIDE IN FRONT OF 300 GUESTS—BUT WHAT THE BRIDE WAS HIDING CHANGED EVERYTHING

Ethan stopped dead in his tracks, his gun trembling in his grip. "Let her go, Sabrina! It’s me you want! Let my daughter go!"

"Shut up, Ethan!" Sabrina snapped, stepping backward until her heels were perched on the wet stone ledge of the balcony. Forty stories below, the lights of Fifth Avenue blurred through a sudden, violent downpour of rain. Thunder rattled the glass panes of the penthouse. "You think you’re in control? You think this was about your pathetic little ego?"

"Sabrina, please..." Ethan begged, tears choking his voice. "Take my money. Take every share of Caldwell Global. Take the Zurich vault. Just let Lily go."

Sabrina laughed, a wild, jagged sound that was swallowed by a crack of thunder.

"I don't need your permission to take it, Ethan," Sabrina said. "And I’m not the one calling the shots. Did you really think I pulled off an ambush on the FDR Drive with four mercenaries? Did you think I hacked your private building security from the back of a police van?"

Grace kept her Glock trained on Sabrina’s forehead, her finger resting lightly on the trigger reset. "Arthur Pendelton," Grace stated calmly.

Sabrina’s smile widened, showing teeth stained with blood. "Smart little maid. Arthur’s firm has controlled Caldwell Global’s offshore holding accounts for twenty years. When Victoria found out Arthur was laundering money for Vanguard, he had her killed. And when you decided you wanted to play happy family again, Arthur hired me to make sure the money stayed in the family."

Footsteps clicked down the hallway behind Ethan.

Ethan turned, his gun still raised.

Stepping into the nursery was Arthur Pendelton. The expensive attorney was no longer wearing his crooked bow tie. He wore a crisp raincoat, his hair neatly combed, holding a stainless-steel revolver in a gloved hand.

"I’m sorry it came to this, Ethan," Arthur said smoothly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You were always too sentimental. Just like your father. You let women dictate your business strategy. Victoria was a liability. Lily is a liability. And this... this combat-trained cleaner you hired to sweep your floors has become a very expensive nuisance."

"You bastard," Ethan whispered, his voice trembling with a hatred so profound it chilled the air between them. "You were Victoria’s godfather. You sat at my dining room table for Thanksgiving!"

"And I watched you squander billions on philanthropic nonsense while Vanguard offered me a seat on the board of the largest private sovereign fund in Europe," Arthur replied coldly. "Elena, bring the girl. The chopper is landing on the south helipad in three minutes."

Grace didn't look at Arthur. Her eyes never left Lily’s face.

Lily was staring at Grace.

Despite the gun pressed against her ribs, despite the howling wind and rain threatening to pull her into the abyss, the little girl stopped crying. She looked at Grace’s steady, focused eyes.

Grace subtly shifted her left hand behind her back, tapping two fingers against her thigh—a signal she had taught Lily during their quiet afternoons in the garden.

*Duck.*

Lily understood.

"Drop your gun, Miss Holloway," Arthur commanded, raising his revolver toward Grace’s head. "Or I put a bullet through Ethan’s spine right now."

"You won't shoot him, Arthur," Grace said softly.

Arthur smirked. "And why is that?"

"Because," Grace whispered, "you need his signature on the probate authorization before you kill him."

Arthur’s eyes flickered with a split second of surprise.