At 2:17 in the morning, I walked into my Chicago penthouse smelling faintly of another woman and found my seven-months-pregnant wife beside a half-packed suitcase. Claire didn’t scream, throw anything, or demand an explanation—she simply looked at me with the eyes of a woman who had finally stopped hoping I would change, and somehow that terrified me more than any enemy ever had.

A flashbang grenade burst through the shattered window, detonating with a blinding light and a deafening roar.

Michael screamed, instinctively covering his eyes and firing wildly into the ceiling.

I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, slamming my shoulder into his midsection. We crashed hard onto the floor, rolling through the broken glass. I grabbed his wrist, slamming it repeatedly against the hardwood floor until his gun clattered away.

"You built your career on my authority, Michael!" I roared, driving my fist into his jaw with twenty years of built-up fury. "You think you can touch my family?!"

Michael spat blood, chuckling darkly through his shattered teeth. "You're already dead, Daniel! Look out the window!"

Red and blue police lights were already flashing thirty stories below, illuminating the rain-slicked streets of Chicago. Sirens wailed in the distance, closing in fast.

I smashed the heavy brass desk lamp against Michael's head, knocking him unconscious, grabbed his weapon and the encryption tablet from his belt, and sprinted out of the nursery.

I didn't run to the main elevator. I knew the federal agents would be coming up that way. Instead, I ducked into the service corridor behind the kitchen, took the hidden spiral staircase down to the private underground parking garage, and jumped into an unmarked, armored SUV I kept hidden for emergencies.

As I smashed through the garage security gate into the pouring rain, three federal vehicles screeched to a halt behind me, their tires smoking on the wet asphalt.

I floored the gas, disappearing into the dark, labyrinthine alleyways of the industrial district.

My heart pounded like a war drum in my chest.

Claire.

She was right about everything. My arrogance, my distraction, my betrayal—it had almost cost me everything. I had let a viper nest inside my home while I played the untouchable king.

I pulled over under a rusted railway overpass, wiped the blood from my face, and turned on Michael's encrypted tablet.

Michael had been thorough. He had set up a countdown script that would transfer all Carter Organization assets to his offshore accounts by midnight tomorrow. But he had made one mistake: he kept a live tracking log on his personal network.

I opened the satellite tracking tool on the tablet.

Among the dozens of monitored signals, one red dot was pinging steadily from a small, secluded farmhouse near Galena, Illinois—three hours west of Chicago.

Beside the ping was a note written by Michael's henchmen: Subject: Claire Carter. Status: Monitored. Execution scheduled post-indictment.

My chest slammed against my ribs.

Michael hadn't just let Claire leave. He was keeping her under surveillance, waiting until I was arrested before sending a hit squad to eliminate her and our baby to ensure no legal heirs could ever contest his stolen fortune.

"Not while I breathe," I growled through gritted teeth.

I reached under the passenger seat, pulled out a satellite burner phone, and dialed a number I hadn't called in ten years.

The line rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"Daniel? I thought you were dead or in handcuffs."

It was Marcus Vance—my old mentor, the man who had retired from the Chicago underworld years ago after I took the throne.

"Marcus," I said, my voice cutting through the speaker like a blade. "I need men. I need guns. And I need them in two hours."

"That sounds expensive, Daniel. And dangerous. Word on the street is your chief of security just sold you to the Feds."

"He did," I admitted quietly. "And I lost my wife because I was too stupid to see it. I don't care about the money, Marcus. I don't care about the territory. You can have every warehouse, every contract, every dollar in my name. Just help me get my family back."