LOGINLOUIS’S POV
Her hand was so small. It fit perfectly inside mine, trusting and warm. I walked slowly, matching her little steps as we moved from the driveway toward my front door. Sierra walked beside us, her face a mix of awe and terror. I had held the hands of CEOs, politicians, celebrities. This was different. This tiny grip held my entire world in it. Katie looked up at the mansion, her eyes wide. “Whoa. It’s like a castle.” “It’s just a house,” I said, my voice strangely thick. “Does it have a princess room?” she asked, looking at me with her mother’s blue eyes. “I don’t know,” I said. “But we can find one.” Sierra gave me a look. I knew what she was thinking. *Don’t spoil her. Don’t make this a fantasy.* But I wanted to give this little girl everything. Everything I had missed for five years. We got inside. Katie let go of my hand and ran into the middle of the foyer, spinning in a circle, her head tilted back to see the high ceiling. “It echoes!” she yelled, and laughed at the sound. The sound of her laughter in this quiet, cold house was like sunlight breaking through stone. I stood and watched her, a feeling swelling in my chest that I didn’t have a name for. Marcus appeared from the hallway, his face all business. He stopped short when he saw Katie. His eyes flicked to me, full of questions. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low. I nodded. “Sierra,” I said. She was hovering by the door, watching Katie like she might vanish. “Why don’t you show Katie the kitchen? Maybe find her a snack.” Sierra understood. She needed to keep Katie occupied and away from whatever Marcus had to say. She held out her hand. “Come on, bug. Let’s see if this castle has any goldfish crackers.” Katie skipped over to her, and they disappeared into the kitchen. I turned to Marcus and led him into my study, closing the door. “The man in the car,” Marcus began immediately. “His name is Derek Holt. Low-level private investigator. He was hired two days ago to watch the child and report on her movements. He was given a photo and an address. He says he doesn’t know who hired him. Payment was wired from an offshore account.” “Victor,” I said, the name a curse. “Almost certainly. We have Holt in a secure location. He’s scared. He says he didn’t know it was a kidnapping threat. He thought it was a custody dispute.” “I don’t care what he thought.” I paced behind my desk. “What about the offshore account? Can we trace it?” “We’re trying. It’s a maze. But we have something else.” Marcus pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. It was a screenshot of a text message. “This was on Holt’s phone. Sent last night.” The message was from an unknown number: **“The mother is at the Trevane estate. Confirm the child’s location. The package is ready for delivery if the mother talks.”** Ice water flooded my veins. *The package.* They weren’t just watching. They were ready to move. To take her. “They were going to grab her today,” I said, my voice deadly quiet. “It looks that way. Our intervention spooked them. The second text, sent an hour ago, just says: ‘Abort. They’re onto us.’” I slammed my hand on the desk. “He was going to take my daughter.” The words felt surreal. *My daughter.* I was still getting used to the sound of it. “Louis,” Marcus said carefully. “This changes everything. Victor isn’t just trying to blackmail you with a scandal. He’s targeting a child. Your child. This is personal war now.” “I know.” I looked out the window, my mind racing. “I want a full security team on this house. I want the best. I want every entrance, every window, every air vent monitored. I want a panic room installed by tomorrow. No, by tonight.” “That’s a major undertaking—” “I don’t care about the cost or the noise. Get it done. Discreetly. I don’t want Sierra or Katie to be more scared than they already are.” Marcus nodded, typing notes into his phone. “And Victor?” A cold, focused rage settled over me. This was no longer about business. This was about family. “I want to know his every move. Where he eats, who he sees, where he sleeps. I want his empire to start crumbling from the edges. Leak the Singapore deal documents to the press. Initiate the audit on his charity foundation. Call every one of his investors and suggest liquidity issues. I want him looking over his shoulder at financial ruin before he even realizes I’m coming for his throat.” A small, grim smile touched Marcus’s lips. He had seen me destroy competitors before, but never like this. Never with this kind of fire. “It will be done.” “And one more thing.” I turned to face him fully. “I want a paternity test. The fastest, most discreet service available.” Marcus’s eyebrows lifted. “You doubt her?” “No.” The answer was immediate. I didn’t doubt Sierra. I saw the truth in her eyes, felt it in my bones. “But when I destroy Victor, and when I claim Katie publicly, I want every piece of paper in the world to back it up. I want no one to ever be able to question that she is mine. It’s not for me. It’s for her protection.” He nodded in understanding. “I’ll arrange it.” After he left, I stood there for a long moment, listening to the quiet. Then I heard a giggle from the kitchen. A high, sweet sound that cut through the darkness in my heart. I walked out of the study and down the hall. I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Sierra was sitting at the island, a bowl of crackers in front of her. Katie was on the counter next to the sink, “helping” wash a single strawberry under the tap. Water was everywhere. On the floor, on the cabinets, on Katie’s shirt. Sierra was laughing, trying to guide her. “Like this, sweetie. Gently.” “I’m being gentle!” Katie insisted, splashing more water. I leaned against the doorframe, just watching. This scene—the mess, the laughter, the simple, ordinary love—was more beautiful than any painting in my house. This was what I had been missing. What I had been working for all these years without even knowing it. Katie saw me first. She held up the dripping strawberry. “Look! I cleaned it for you!” I walked over. “It’s the cleanest strawberry I’ve ever seen.” She beamed with pride. “You can have it.” She held it out. I took it from her small, wet hand and took a bite. “Best strawberry ever.” Sierra smiled at me, a real, relaxed smile that reached her eyes. In this messy, chaotic moment, she looked happy. Katie wiped her hands on her jeans. “Mommy said you’re my friend. But friends have sleepovers. Can I have a sleepover here?” Sierra’s smile faded slightly. She looked at me, the fear returning. I crouched down so I was level with Katie again. “You know, this is my house. And you are always welcome here. You can have a sleepover anytime you want.” “Tonight?” she asked, her eyes hopeful. I looked at Sierra. It was her call. This was moving fast. Too fast. Sierra took a deep breath. She looked from Katie’s hopeful face to mine. She saw the raw want in my eyes. The promise of safety. “Okay,” she said softly. “One night. A special sleepover.” Katie cheered and threw her wet arms around my neck in a hug. The sudden, unconditional affection knocked the air from my lungs. I carefully put my arms around her small, damp body and held her. Over her shoulder, my eyes met Sierra’s. *Thank you,* I mouthed. She gave me a small, shaky nod. In that moment, holding my daughter for the first time, with her mother watching, I knew one thing for certain. I would kill for this. And I would certainly destroy Victor Hale for it.Louis’s POVNormalcy was a fragile, precious thing. We clung to it like a life raft. Katie started at her new, absurdly secure private school. Sierra began working with the architects and bakers to design a flagship location for “Savarina,” a patisserie concept that would be part of the Katherine Hope Initiative’s vocational wing. It was her dream, reborn in fire and gold. She was in her element, her eyes alight with a passion that had nothing to do with threats or security briefings.For two weeks, the monster in Sydney was silent. The ledger showed the monthly retainer payment had been received. No emails, no assessments. It was as if Alistair Ford was just a wealthy, reclusive man enjoying his retirement.I almost let myself believe it.Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, my assistant’s nervous voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Trevane, there’s a… a Mr. Donovan Shaw here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment. He says it’s urgent, and that you’d want to see him. He mentioned… he me
Sierra’s POV The week that followed was the strangest of my life. It felt like living in the calm eye of a hurricane we had hired to protect us.There were no more threatening texts. No sinister figures in grainy photos. Instead, I received a single, efficient email from an address named “AFord Consulting.” It contained a detailed, three-page security assessment of our estate, pointing out two vulnerabilities in the perimeter fence our own team had missed. The tone was cold, professional, utterly devoid of emotion. It was signed, *A. Ford*.Elias Crowe was already at work.Louis handled the correspondence, his responses just as clipped and businesslike. It was a transaction. A monstrous, necessary transaction. But seeing him interface with the man who had threatened to hurt Katie made my skin crawl.The psychological whiplash was severe. One day I was tasting genuine peace, the next I was co-signing a deal with the devil. I’d lie awake at night, Louis’s steady breath against my neck,
Louis’s POVSierra was silent on the ride back, her face turned to the window, her profile carved from marble. I watched the live feed from the car, my hands clenched into fists on my desk. I had heard every word. The threat to Katie. The blackmail. The *recording*.My own voice, coolly offering Victor exile, played back in my head. It was a conversation that could be twisted a dozen ways by a prosecutor. At best, it was unethical. At worst, it was criminal conspiracy. Crowe was right—the stink would never leave. The Katherine Hope Initiative would be stillborn. Sierra’s hard-won public respect would evaporate. And Katie… her name would be dragged through a legal and media sewer.The car hadn’t even stopped at the porte-cochere before I was out the front door. I pulled Sierra from the vehicle and into my arms, holding her tight. I could feel the fine tremors running through her frame.“He has a recording,” she whispered into my chest.“I know.” I guided her inside, straight to the st
Sierra’s POVThe wire was a tiny, cold disc against my skin, just below my collarbone. The panic button was a smooth, flat pea in my bra strap. They felt like foreign objects, like tumors of fear grafted onto my body. Claudette had chosen my outfit—cream-colored trousers, a simple silk shell, a lightweight trench coat. “Elegant, unthreatening, easy to move in,” she’d said with chilling practicality.Louis hadn’t slept. He’d spent the night in his study with Marcus and a team of security specialists, mapping the botanical gardens inch by inch, programming earpieces, running scenarios. I’d finally crawled into bed at 3 AM, finding the sheets cold on his side.Now, in the grey afternoon light, he stood before me in the foyer, adjusting the lapel of my coat. His hands were steady, but his eyes were a turbulent sea of fear and fury.“Remember,” he said, his voice rough. “You are not alone. I will be in your ear every second. Marcus will be thirty feet away, dressed as a gardener. There are
Louis’s POV At 8:00 AM sharp, Sierra walked into my study. She wore dark jeans and a simple sweater, her hair pulled back. She looked like she meant business. She carried a notebook and a pen.Marcus, standing by the screens, gave a slight, approving nod. My mother, who had insisted on attending—"This concerns the family's security, I am family"—sat in a wingback chair, a silent observer.“Alright,” I began, gesturing to the main screen where Marcus had pulled up a file. “Elias Crowe. Forty years old. Former military intelligence, dishonorably discharged for unspecified ‘ethical breaches.’ Went private fifteen years ago. He’s a ghost. No fixed address, uses burn phones, operates through a network of cutouts. He wasn’t Victor’s employee. He was a contractor. High-end, discrete surveillance and… problem solving.”“Problem solving,” Sierra repeated, her voice flat. “What does that mean?”Marcus answered. “It means he makes problems go away. Sometimes through blackmail. Sometimes through
Sierra’s POVThe morning after the gala, I woke up wrapped in Louis, our limbs tangled, the scent of his skin and my faded perfume mingling on the sheets. Sunlight poured in, bold and confident. A smile touched my lips before I even opened my eyes. We had done it. I had done it.The memory of the night replayed like a beautiful film—the applause, the weight of his gaze as I spoke, the feel of his hand steady on my back, the way he looked at me when the dress came off. For the first time, I felt like I belonged. Not as an impostor, but as his equal.He was already awake, propped on an elbow, watching me. His expression was soft, satisfied. “Good morning, Ms. Trevane.”The name, said like that in the quiet morning, felt like a caress. “Good morning.”He kissed me, a slow, lazy kiss that promised a day spent in this bed. But the real world, in the form of a five-year-old tornado, had other plans. A door slammed down the hall, followed by the quick patter of feet.“Mommy! Daddy Louis! The







