Chapter 1 - HE HID BEHIND THE SECURITY CAMERAS TO CATCH HIS TRUSTED MAID STEALING—BUT WHEN HIS FIANCÉE TOOK HIS DEAD WIFE'S LAST GIFT FROM THEIR CRYING DAUGHTER, THE MAFIA BOSS DISCOVERED A BETRAYAL THAT HAD BEEN HAPPENING UNDER HIS ROOF FOR MONTHS
Men had lied to my face before and ended up regretting it.
Business partners had sworn loyalty while arranging meetings with my enemies. Politicians had shaken my hand while secretly negotiating with men who wanted me dead. Even members of my own family had occasionally confused my patience with weakness.
But nothing prepared me for the morning I faked a flight out of Chicago and hid inside my own estate to watch the woman I planned to marry.
By noon, the cameras had shown me something worse than betrayal.
My daughters were afraid of her.
And they had been afraid for far longer than I knew.
My name is Alexander Vance.
I was forty-two years old, a widower, and the head of one of Chicago's most powerful crime families.
Men called me ruthless.
My enemies called me dangerous.
My daughters called me Daddy.
Only one of those titles mattered to me anymore.
And somehow, while I was busy protecting my empire, I had failed at the one responsibility I would have willingly died to fulfill.
***
"Do you really have to go, Daddy?"
Sophie wrapped both arms around my waist in the marble foyer.
She was six years old, with her mother's brown eyes and a habit of asking questions that could bring an entire business meeting to a halt.
Her older sister, Valerie, stood beside the staircase.
At nine, Valerie had already developed an alarming talent for pretending she didn't care about things that hurt her.
She kept her arms folded.
Her expression was serious.
But I noticed the way she kept glancing at my suitcase.
"Four days," I told them.
It was a lie.
There was no flight to Canada.
My private jet would remain inside its hangar at Chicago Executive Airport.
And I would return through a concealed entrance twenty-five minutes later.
I hated lying to my daughters.
After their mother died, I'd promised myself I would never become the kind of father whose children had to guess whether his words were true.
Yet here I was.
Standing in our foyer.
Lying to the two people I loved most.
Because something inside my home had begun to feel terribly wrong.
Sophie pressed her face against my jacket.
"Can you call us tonight?"
"Of course."
"Before bedtime?"
"Before bedtime."
She looked up.
"Promise?"
I crouched.
"Promise."
Valerie finally spoke.
"Chloe says you shouldn't make promises when you're busy."
I looked at her.
"What?"
She shrugged.
"Nothing."
"Valerie."
Her eyes shifted toward the staircase.
"She says grown-ups have important things to do."
Something tightened inside my chest.
"You're important."
Valerie gave me a small smile.
But it wasn't the smile of a child who believed me.
It was the smile of a child who had learned how to make adults feel better.
I kissed her forehead.
"Both of you are."
She nodded.
I wanted to ask more.
Instead, I stood and reached for my suitcase.
That was my first mistake of the morning.
I chose the investigation over the conversation.
I told myself I needed evidence.
I told myself I couldn't accuse anyone without knowing the truth.
And I told myself my daughters would be safe for another few hours.
I was wrong about the last part.
***
The problem, according to my fiancée, was Marisol Alvarez.
Marisol had worked in my household for nearly five years.
She was thirty-three, quiet, capable, and almost impossible to intimidate.
After my wife Elena died, Marisol became the steady presence that held our household together.
She knew Sophie refused to eat cereal if the milk was already poured.
She knew Valerie hated thunderstorms but pretended she didn't.
She knew where Elena had stored the girls' baby pictures.
And she remembered the small things I frequently forgot.
The exact day of a school recital.
The name of a favorite teacher.
The way Sophie wanted her stuffed rabbit tucked beneath her chin at night.
I trusted Marisol.
Or at least, I had.
Then Chloe Bennett entered our lives.
Chloe was thirty-four, elegant, ambitious, and exceptionally skilled at making people feel chosen.
We met at a charity auction fourteen months earlier.
She was charming without appearing desperate.
Confident without seeming arrogant.
She spoke warmly about my daughters.
And when I told her about Elena, she listened with an expression that suggested she understood grief.
I had been lonely.
That was the truth I would eventually have to admit.
Loneliness can make a man with excellent instincts surprisingly careless.
At first, Chloe seemed patient.
She brought the girls thoughtful gifts.
She asked about their schoolwork.
She offered to help organize the household.
Then the complaints began.
A missing bracelet.
A bottle of perfume that had supposedly disappeared.
Cash she insisted she'd left in a drawer.
"Things are disappearing," she told me one evening.
"What things?"
"Little things."
"Have you spoken to the staff?"
"I don't want to accuse anyone."
She said that often.
I don't want to accuse anyone.
Then she would describe a situation in enough detail to make an accusation unnecessary.
She pointed out how close the girls were to Marisol.
How quiet they became when I returned unexpectedly.
How Marisol knew our schedules.
How much freedom I'd given her.
"Sometimes," Chloe said, "people become too comfortable when they work for a wealthy family."
I didn't like the implication.
But I was exhausted.
And Chloe was persistent.
Eventually, doubt found its way into places trust had occupied for years.
By four that morning, I had decided to find out what was happening.
***
My SUV left the estate at eight.
Ten minutes later, Hector Ruiz, my head of security, took a service road through neighboring property I secretly owned.
We entered the fortified security room behind my garage.
Thirty cameras covered the common areas.
Kitchen.
Library.
Hallways.
Living room.
Garden.
No bedrooms.
No bathrooms.
I wasn't interested in invading anyone's privacy.
I wanted to know whether someone was stealing from my home.
And whether my daughters were being manipulated.
Hector sat beside me.
He had worked for my family for seventeen years.
He was fifty-one, broad-shouldered, and unusually careful with his words.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
"No."
He glanced at me.
That answer surprised him.
I continued.
"But I'm sure something is wrong."
He nodded.
Then activated the monitors.
For ten minutes, nothing happened.
A cook carried breakfast dishes into the kitchen.
A housekeeper polished the hallway furniture.
A gardener crossed the terrace.
Then Chloe entered the living room.
Valerie sat beside the fireplace with a book.
Sophie held the stuffed rabbit Elena had given her before she died.
The second Chloe appeared, something changed.
Valerie closed her book.
Sophie lowered her head.
I leaned forward.
Hector increased the audio.
"I thought I told you not to sit in here when your father isn't home," Chloe said.
Valerie stood.
"We were just reading."
"I didn't ask."
Cold spread through my chest.
Chloe walked toward Sophie.
"What's that?"
Sophie hugged the rabbit tighter.
"Mr. Hops."
Chloe held out her hand.
"Give it to me."
Sophie hesitated.
"Please."
Chloe's expression hardened.
"Sophie."
The little girl slowly handed over the rabbit.
Chloe took it.
Then placed it on a shelf far above Sophie's reach.
My hand tightened around the desk.
Sophie whispered, "Please. Mommy gave me that."
For a second, I stopped breathing.
I remembered Elena in the hospital.
Weak.
Smiling.
Placing that rabbit into Sophie's arms.
Our daughter had been barely two.
Elena had kissed the rabbit's ears and told her it would keep her company whenever Mommy couldn't.
I had never forgotten that moment.
Apparently, neither had Sophie.
Then I noticed Valerie.
She didn't look surprised.
She took Sophie's hand.
Calm.
Automatic.
Like she knew what came next.
That frightened me more than Chloe's cruelty.
Children shocked by mistreatment react one way.
Children accustomed to it react another.
"Hector."
"I see it."
"How long?"
"We don't know."
Then Marisol appeared in the doorway.
She looked at Sophie.
The rabbit.
Valerie holding her sister's hand.
Then Chloe.
Three seconds.
That was all she needed.
She stepped between Chloe and my daughters.
"Miss Bennett," Marisol said quietly, "the girls haven't finished breakfast."
Chloe crossed her arms.
"Then take them to the kitchen."
Marisol looked at the rabbit.
"May I give Sophie her toy first?"
"No."
"Miss Bennett—"
"I said no."
Marisol didn't move.
I saw something change in her expression.
Not anger.
Determination.
She looked directly toward the hidden camera.
And said my name.
"Mr. Vance, if you're watching this, your daughters need you to come home."
***
I stood so abruptly that my chair struck the wall.
Hector reached for his radio.
"Sir?"
I barely heard him.
On the screen, Chloe's expression changed.
She followed Marisol's gaze toward the camera.
For one moment, she looked confused.
Then she smiled.
A small, practiced smile.
"Marisol, what a ridiculous thing to say."
Marisol didn't answer.
Chloe stepped closer.
"Are you suggesting Alexander spies on his own household?"
"I'm saying the girls need their father."
Chloe laughed.
"You're a maid. You don't get to decide what this family needs."
Marisol remained still.
"You're right."
Chloe looked satisfied.
Then Marisol continued.
"But I can recognize when a child is frightened."
The smile disappeared from Chloe's face.
Valerie tightened her grip on Sophie's hand.
I looked at Hector.
"Bring the car."
He was already moving.
***
I could have walked into the living room five minutes later.
I could have confronted Chloe in front of my daughters.
I could have allowed anger to decide what happened next.
Instead, I stopped outside the security room.
Because something else had appeared on the monitor.
Chloe was speaking again.
"You think Alexander will believe you?"
Marisol didn't answer.
Chloe stepped closer.
"You're an employee. I'm going to be his wife."
Marisol looked toward the girls.
"Please don't do this in front of them."
Chloe laughed.
"You're afraid."
"No."
"Then why are you shaking?"
Marisol glanced down.
Her hands were trembling.
But her voice remained steady.
"Because I've been trying to protect these children without making their lives worse."
Chloe's expression changed.
"Careful."
Marisol continued.
"Valerie has been having nightmares."
I froze.
"Sophie cries whenever you raise your voice."
My chest tightened.
"And both girls have been asking me whether their father will still love them after the wedding."
The words hit harder than any bullet.
I stared at the screen.
My daughters believed my marriage might cost them their father's love.
Chloe's face went pale.
"You've been filling their heads with lies."
Marisol shook her head.
"No."
"Then why would they think that?"
Marisol looked at her.
"Because you told them."
Silence.
Even through the speakers, I could hear Sophie's quiet breathing.
Then Valerie spoke.
"She did."
My heart stopped.
Chloe turned sharply.
"Valerie."
The little girl flinched.
But she didn't retreat.
"She said Daddy would have a new family."
Chloe's expression hardened.
"That's not what I said."
Valerie's voice trembled.
"You said he wouldn't have time for babies anymore."
Sophie began crying.
"I'm not a baby."
Valerie wrapped an arm around her.
"I know."
Chloe looked toward the camera again.
Then she said, very softly, "You're all making a terrible mistake."
I turned to Hector.
"Call our family attorney."
He nodded.
"And the girls' pediatrician."
Hector looked at me.
"Sir?"
"I want them evaluated by someone who knows how to speak to frightened children."
He nodded again.
I took a breath.
Then said the words I should have said weeks earlier.
"And nobody leaves this property with my daughters."
***
I entered the house through the west corridor.
The staff noticed me immediately.
I raised one hand.
Nobody spoke.
I walked toward the living room.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
I had faced men with guns.
I had negotiated with people who would have celebrated my death.
But I had never been more frightened than I was walking toward my own children.
Because I was beginning to understand what my absence had cost them.
I reached the doorway.
Chloe was standing near the fireplace.
Marisol remained between her and the girls.
Valerie saw me first.
Her eyes widened.
"Daddy?"
Sophie turned.
For one beautiful second, her face filled with relief.
Then she looked toward Chloe.
And the relief disappeared.
She seemed afraid to run toward me.
That was the moment something inside me broke.
I crouched.
"Sophie."
She hesitated.
I opened my arms.
"Come here, sweetheart."
She ran.
I caught her against my chest.
Her little body shook.
I held her tightly.
"I'm here."
She buried her face in my shoulder.
"Please don't go again."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere today."
Valerie approached more slowly.
I reached for her.
She stepped into my other arm.
For several seconds, I held both daughters without speaking.
Then Sophie whispered, "Are you mad?"
I pulled back.
"At you?"
She nodded.
"No, sweetheart."
She looked toward Chloe.
"Because we were bad?"
My throat tightened.
I looked directly into her eyes.
"You weren't bad."
Valerie stared at me.
I continued.
"Neither of you did anything wrong."
Sophie began crying again.
I kissed her forehead.
Then I stood.
And turned toward the woman I had planned to marry.
***
Chloe was smiling.
Not warmly.
Not naturally.
It was the smile of someone who had realized she was losing control and intended to regain it.
"Alexander."
I said nothing.
She stepped closer.
"You're home early."
"Yes."
"Did something happen with your flight?"
"There was no flight."
Her smile faltered.
I continued.
"I've been here all morning."
Silence.
Chloe glanced toward the camera.
Then back at me.
"You were watching us?"
"Yes."
Her expression changed.
"Alexander, that's incredibly invasive."
I looked at her.
"Is it?"
She crossed her arms.
"You could have asked me what was happening."
"I did."
She blinked.
"For weeks."
My voice remained calm.
"I asked why the girls seemed withdrawn. You told me they were struggling with Elena's death."
Chloe looked away.
"I thought they were."
"I asked why Sophie stopped bringing her rabbit downstairs."
She swallowed.
"You said she was growing out of it."
Chloe said nothing.
I stepped closer.
"And I asked why Valerie had begun asking permission before speaking at dinner."
Her eyes shifted toward Marisol.
I noticed.
"Don't look at her."
Chloe froze.
"Look at me."
She swallowed.
I continued.
"Everything I saw this morning happened because you believed I wasn't here."
Chloe's face hardened.
"You're overreacting."
I stared at her.
"My daughters are afraid of you."
"They need discipline."
"They need to feel safe in their own home."
Chloe laughed bitterly.
"Of course. The maid has convinced you she's some kind of saint."
Marisol lowered her eyes.
I looked at Chloe.
"Marisol hasn't said a word against you to me."
"Exactly. She's manipulative."
I felt something cold settle inside my chest.
"You accused her of stealing."
Chloe blinked.
"What?"
"You told me money and jewelry were disappearing."
"Because they were."
"Then we'll review the records."
Her expression changed.
I continued.
"And if someone stole from this house, we'll deal with it."
Chloe looked toward the doorway.
Hector stood there.
She stopped moving.
I looked at him.
"Escort Miss Bennett to the guest wing."
Chloe stared.
"Excuse me?"
"She'll remain there while her belongings are collected."
Her mouth fell open.
"Alexander!"
I turned toward her.
"You're leaving."
***
Chloe laughed.
At first, I thought she hadn't understood.
Then I realized she was trying to make the situation seem absurd.
"You're throwing me out because of a stuffed animal?"
I looked at Sophie.
She was holding my hand.
Her face was pale.
I turned back.
"No."
Chloe crossed her arms.
"Then why?"
"Because my daughters are afraid to be themselves in their own home."
She opened her mouth.
I continued.
"Because you used their mother's memory to hurt them."
Her face changed.
"And because you tried to make me distrust the person who was protecting them."
Chloe stared.
For a moment, the mask slipped.
Her expression became cold.
"You think you know what happened?"
"I know enough."
She laughed bitterly.
"No, Alexander."
She looked toward Marisol.
"You don't."
Marisol went still.
Chloe smiled.
"Ask your precious maid what she was doing in Elena's private study last Thursday."
I turned toward Marisol.
She looked startled.
Then frightened.
Not the fear of someone caught stealing.
Something else.
Something deeper.
I studied her.
"Marisol?"
She swallowed.
"Mr. Vance, I can explain."
Chloe smiled wider.
"Of course you can."
I raised one hand.
"Chloe. Enough."
She fell silent.
I looked at Marisol.
"What happened?"
Marisol glanced toward the girls.
Then back at me.
"Not in front of them."
I nodded.
"All right."
I turned to Hector.
"Take the girls to the breakfast room. Stay with them."
Sophie tightened her grip.
"No."
I crouched.
"Sweetheart."
"Don't leave."
I felt my chest tighten.
"I'm not leaving the house."
She looked uncertain.
I continued.
"I'm going to speak with Marisol for a few minutes. Then I'll come find you."
Valerie watched me.
"Promise?"
I looked directly at her.
"Promise."
She nodded.
Then took Sophie's hand.
Hector led them away.
***
The moment they disappeared, Chloe stepped forward.
"Alexander, you need to understand—"
I looked at her.
"You're finished speaking."
Her face hardened.
"You can't treat me like this."
I turned toward Hector's deputy.
"Escort her upstairs."
Chloe stared.
Then she laughed.
"You'll regret this."
I said nothing.
She looked at Marisol.
"You think you've won?"
Marisol remained silent.
Chloe's expression twisted.
"You have no idea what you've done."
Then she turned and walked away.
***
The room became quiet.
Marisol stood near the fireplace.
Her hands were clasped tightly.
I looked at her.
"Sit down."
She shook her head.
"I'm fine."
"Marisol."
She looked up.
I softened my voice.
"Please."
She sat.
I took the chair across from her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then I said, "I'm sorry."
Her eyes widened.
"Mr. Vance—"
"No."
I shook my head.
"I should have noticed."
She looked down.
"You've been very busy."
"That's not an excuse."
She said nothing.
I leaned forward.
"How long has Chloe been treating the girls this way?"
Marisol hesitated.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, "Since shortly after the engagement."
I closed my eyes.
Four months.
Four months of missed signs.
Four months of frightened children.
Four months of believing the wrong person.
I opened my eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Marisol's expression changed.
"I tried."
I stared.
"What?"
She swallowed.
"I left messages with your office."
My chest tightened.
"When?"
"Several times."
I felt cold.
Marisol continued.
"I asked for a private meeting. I said it concerned the girls."
I looked toward the doorway.
Hector had returned.
He heard the last sentence.
His expression changed.
I looked at him.
"Did you know?"
He shook his head.
"No, sir."
I turned back to Marisol.
"Who took the messages?"
She hesitated.
"Your assistant."
My stomach tightened.
"Which one?"
"Daniel Mercer."
I stared.
Daniel Mercer had managed my private office for seven years.
He controlled my calendar.
Screened my calls.
Handled confidential correspondence.
And coordinated much of the estate's administrative business.
I looked at Hector.
"Find him."
Hector nodded.
Then left.
***
I turned back to Marisol.
"What happened in Elena's study?"
She looked down.
For a moment, I thought she might refuse to answer.
Then she reached into the pocket of her uniform.
She removed a small brass key.
My breath caught.
I recognized it immediately.
Elena's key.
The one she'd worn on a thin gold chain.
After her death, I'd placed it inside a locked drawer.
I hadn't seen it in years.
"Where did you get that?"
Marisol looked at me.
"Your daughter gave it to me."
I stared.
"Valerie?"
She nodded.
"She found it inside Chloe's jewelry box."
My chest tightened.
"Why?"
Marisol swallowed.
"Because Chloe has been going through Elena's things."
I felt cold.
Marisol continued.
"She told the girls their mother's belongings would be removed after the wedding."
My hands closed.
"Removed?"
Marisol nodded.
"She said it was time for the house to stop looking like a memorial."
I looked toward the fireplace.
Elena's photograph stood on the mantel.
She was smiling.
Holding Sophie as a baby.
Valerie stood beside her.
I remembered the day we'd taken that picture.
Elena had been laughing because Sophie kept grabbing her necklace.
The memory hurt.
Marisol spoke softly.
"Valerie was afraid Chloe would throw everything away."
I looked back.
"So she asked you to hide the key."
Marisol nodded.
"Yes."
I exhaled.
"And you went into the study."
"To make sure Elena's letters were still there."
My heart stopped.
"What letters?"
Marisol looked confused.
"The letters she wrote for the girls."
I stared.
Elena had written letters during her final months.
One for each birthday.
One for graduation.
One for their weddings.
One for the days they would miss her most.
I had placed them in a locked cabinet inside her study.
They were supposed to remain untouched until the girls were old enough to read them.
I stood.
"Come with me."
***
We walked upstairs.
The hallway outside Elena's study was quiet.
I hadn't entered the room in months.
Not because I didn't care.
Because I cared too much.
Every object reminded me of her.
Her favorite books.
The blue chair where she used to read.
The small vase she kept filled with fresh flowers.
I unlocked the door.
The room smelled faintly of lavender.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
Then Marisol stepped beside me.
"The cabinet is over there."
I crossed the room.
The cabinet stood against the far wall.
Its doors were closed.
I inserted the key.
Turned it.
Opened the cabinet.
And stopped.
The letters were gone.
Every single one.
I stared at the empty shelves.
My throat tightened.
"No."
Marisol looked down.
"I was afraid of that."
I turned toward her.
"When did you notice?"
"Last Thursday."
I felt sick.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She looked at me.
"I tried."
The words landed like a hammer.
I looked toward the window.
For months, I'd been told Marisol was dishonest.
For months, I'd been warned she was becoming too attached to my daughters.
For months, I'd allowed Chloe's suggestions to weaken my trust.
And now I understood.
Marisol hadn't been trying to replace Elena.
She'd been trying to preserve what Elena left behind.
***
Hector appeared in the doorway.
"Sir."
I turned.
"Did you find Mercer?"
He nodded.
"He's not answering."
My expression hardened.
"Where is he?"
Hector hesitated.
"His apartment is empty."
I stared.
"What?"
"He left this morning."
My chest tightened.
Hector continued.
"His building manager says he moved several suitcases into a car before dawn."
I looked toward the empty cabinet.
Then back at Hector.
"Check his access records."
Hector nodded.
"Already doing it."
He paused.
"There's something else."
I looked at him.
"What?"
Hector held out a tablet.
"Mercer accessed the estate's private document archive eleven times in the past month."
I stared at the screen.
The access logs showed dates.
Times.
And file names.
Most were ordinary household records.
Then I saw one that made my blood run cold.
ELENA VANCE — PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE.
I looked up.
"Why was he accessing my wife's letters?"
Hector shook his head.
"We don't know."
Then he scrolled down.
Another file appeared.
VANCE FAMILY TRUST — BENEFICIARY AMENDMENT.
I went still.
"What is that?"
Hector's expression was grim.
"Someone requested changes to the trust."
I stared.
The trust controlled a substantial portion of the assets I'd set aside for my daughters.
No one was authorized to alter it without my approval.
I looked at the date.
Three weeks earlier.
The same week Chloe had insisted we finalize our wedding arrangements.
My hands went cold.
I turned toward Marisol.
She looked frightened.
Then I looked back at Hector.
"Find out who submitted that request."
He nodded.
"And get my attorney here."
Hector hesitated.
"Sir?"
I looked at him.
"What?"
He swallowed.
"There's one more thing."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What?"
Hector looked down at the tablet.
"The request included a proposed new beneficiary."
I stared.
"Who?"
He looked up.
"Chloe Bennett."
***
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
The woman I planned to marry had been trying to gain access to assets intended for my daughters.
The woman who told me Marisol was stealing had been searching my dead wife's private belongings.
The woman who smiled at charity events and called Sophie her little princess had been teaching my children to fear their own home.
I looked toward Elena's empty cabinet.
Then toward the hallway where my daughters waited.
And I finally understood the shape of the danger.
This wasn't simply cruelty.
It wasn't jealousy.
It wasn't even greed.
Someone had been preparing to take control of my family.
And I had nearly handed them the keys.
I turned to Hector.
"Lock down the financial records. Preserve every access log. Contact the attorney and the police."
He nodded.
Then I looked at Marisol.
She stood beside the empty cabinet, holding Elena's brass key.
Her expression was exhausted.
I remembered Chloe's accusations.
The missing jewelry.
The missing money.
The whispered suspicions.
And I understood that Marisol had spent months protecting my daughters while I questioned her loyalty.
"Marisol."
She looked up.
"Yes, Mr. Vance?"
I took a breath.
"I owe you an apology."
Her eyes filled.
"You don't have to—"
"Yes."
I shook my head.
"I do."
She looked down.
I continued.
"You protected my daughters when I wasn't here."
Her lips trembled.
"You would have done the same."
I felt my chest tighten.
"That's what I keep telling myself."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Marisol looked toward the hallway.
"Mr. Vance?"
"Yes?"
"There's something else."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
She hesitated.
"Valerie told me Chloe made her sign something."
I stared.
"Sign what?"
Marisol shook her head.
"I don't know."
My heart began pounding.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Marisol's eyes filled.
"Because Chloe said if she told you, Sophie would be sent away."
The room went silent.
I looked toward the door.
My nine-year-old daughter had been threatened into silence.
And the woman responsible was still inside my house.
I turned to Hector.
"Bring Chloe to the library."
My voice was calm.
Too calm.
Then I looked at Marisol.
"Stay with the girls."
She nodded.
I walked toward the door.
For the first time that morning, I understood that the most dangerous enemy I'd ever faced wasn't waiting outside my gates.
She'd been sitting at my dinner table.
May you like
Smiling at my daughters.
And planning to take everything Elena had left them.
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