My husband brought his mistress to the airport dressed like they were attending a wedding, all because he expected me to be there watching them together.

The threat hung in the freezing air, sharp and unyielding.

Before I could answer, the beam of twin headlights slashed through the heavy fog behind us. The roar of an engine shattered the harbor stillness as a black SUV slid around the shipping containers, its tires screaming against wet asphalt.

Arthur didn't flinch. He merely tilted his head, as if anticipating an uninvited guest. "It seems your shadow couldn't resist showing his face after all."

The SUV door kicked open, and Gordon Caldwell stepped into the rain. He wore a dark trench coat, his face set in stone, a heavy pistol gripped firmly at his side. Two private security operatives in tactical gear stepped out behind him, weapons drawn and trained on the perimeter.

"Step away from her, Vance," Gordon commanded, his voice rumbling over the sound of the churning water. "The perimeter is locked down. Harbor police have already been notified of an unauthorized foreign vessel docked at slip four."

Arthur let out a soft, mocking laugh, leaning back on his silver cane. "Harbor police? Oh, Gordon. You truly are your father’s son—bound by municipal statutes and childish concepts of law. Do you really believe I sailed into this port without buying every badge from here to the state line?"

A sharp whistle echoed from above.

Suddenly, high-powered spotlights flickered to life from atop the surrounding shipping containers, blinding us in a crossfire of brilliant white light. Shadows moved swiftly along the catwalks—at least six heavily armed men clad in unmarked tactical black, laser sights painting crimson dots across Gordon’s chest and the hood of his vehicle.

"Gordon, watch out!" I screamed, pulling my revolver from my pocket and ducking behind a heavy wooden bollard.

"Don't move, Eleanor!" Gordon yelled back, throwing himself forward to cover the angle between Arthur’s men and me.

"Drop your weapons, Caldwell," Arthur shouted over the wind, his aristocratic composure cracking to reveal the ruthless sociopath beneath. "Twenty-five years ago, your father thought he could corner me in Zurich. He spent his final hours staring at a prison wall. You don't have to share his fate. Leave Eleanor and the trust ledger, and I’ll allow you to walk out of this harbor alive."

"You murdered my father, Vance," Gordon growled, his boots sliding against the slick wood as he stood his ground, gun raised directly between Arthur’s eyes. "You bled our family dry, faked your demise, and left a trail of ruined lives across two continents. You don't get to walk away twice."

"Your father was weak! Just like Julian! Just like everyone who thinks a legal document can hold back an empire!" Arthur sneered. He raised his left hand, snapping his fingers. "Kill him."

Gunfire erupted like thunder.

The crimson laser dots flared as suppressed rounds tore through the wet wood of the pier, kicking up splinters and smoke. Gordon fired two rapid shots toward the shipping containers, taking down one of the snipers, while his security men returned fire, creating a deafening corridor of chaos.

"Mom!"

A terrified voice cut through the gunfire. My heart stopped.

Parked two hundred yards back near the entrance of the pier was Ben's sedan. Lily was in the passenger seat, screaming, while Ben was trying to jump out of the driver's side to reach me.

"No! Ben, stay in the car!" I shrieked, terror flooding my veins. They had followed me despite my strict orders.

Arthur noticed them instantly. A cruel, calculating sneer twisted his lips. "Ah. The grandchildren I’ve never met. Such lovely collateral." He raised his cane and pointed it directly at Ben's car, signaling his men on the catwalks.

"Take out the sedan!" one of the mercenaries barked into his radio.