The doctors gave up on my legs. The people I trusted buried the truth about my family. Then a fearless little girl crashed into my private garden, laughed at the men protecting me, made my paralyzed foot move for the first time in eight years—and wore the necklace that had disappeared with the baby everyone swore had died.

The private jet sliced through the midnight clouds at forty thousand feet, heading east across the Atlantic toward Switzerland.

Inside the luxurious leather cabin, Lily sat on a plush sofa, fast asleep with her head resting on a velvet pillow, holding her stuffed teddy bear close to her chest. Leo sat beside her, eating a massive steak dinner provided by my personal chef, looking at the high-tech tactical gear laid out on the cabin table with wide, amazed eyes.

I stood near the window, holding a glass of ice water, practicing my steps.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

My legs were stiff, the nerves firing with sharp, burning sensations as if thousands of hot needles were piercing my muscles, but I refused to sit back down in that cursed chair. Every step I took was a declaration of war against the lie that had kept me trapped for eight years.

Viktor stepped up beside me, handing me a satellite tablet displaying a high-resolution thermal map of a secluded compound situated in the snowy mountains near Lake Geneva.

"Sanatorium Mont-Blanc," Viktor explained, pointing at the glowing red structure on the screen. "It’s a black-budget medical facility owned by a shell corporation registered to Judge Vance's brother. It’s guarded by twenty private contractors from the Fenris Syndicate."

"How tight is the perimeter?" I asked, my voice steady and deadly.

"Heavy," Viktor admitted. "Motion sensors, heat cameras, and automated turret posts along the outer stone wall. They think they’re hidden from the world."

"They were hidden," I replied, looking back at Lily sleeping soundly on the sofa. "Until my daughter found me."

I walked over to the sofa and sat gently on the edge beside Lily. Her small face was so peaceful, her dark lashes resting against her cheeks, the silver anchor necklace rising and falling with her gentle breaths.

I reached out, my large, scarred thumb lightly brushing a speck of dust from her cheek.

"Is Aunt Sarah going to be okay?" Leo asked softly, setting his fork down and looking at me with anxious eyes.

"Sarah is out of danger, Leo," I assured the boy quietly. "My doctors performed surgery on her in New York. She is awake, and she will be taken care of for the rest of her life. You two will never have to worry about food, money, or safety ever again."

Leo looked at me for a long moment, then looked down at his clean, expensive clothes. "Are you really a King?"

A faint smile touched my lips. "I used to think I was. But real kings build empires to protect their families. I built mine to hide from my pain."