The ultrasound pictures were still warm from my fingers when my mother-in-law threw them into the kitchen trash.

The tension in the grand foyer was thick enough to cut with a diamond-tipped saw. Julian’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second as Roman closed the distance between them, towering over his cousin with a raw, athletic intensity that made Julian’s hired enforcers instinctively shift their weight. "Easy, Roman, easy," Julian sneered, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes darted nervously toward the two burly men behind him. "We’re not here for a street brawl. We’re businessmen. We’re here to talk a settlement. You two are in way over your heads. Cliffwood Manor requires millions in maintenance alone. You think a failed architect and a retail clerk can afford the taxes on this compound? Hand over the Project Omega files and the Zurich keys, and we’ll give you a clean exit—plus a fifty-thousand-dollar parting check to start your little family somewhere far away from Seattle." I let out a low, cold laugh that made Julian stop talking. I stepped out from behind Roman, my hand resting protectively over my stomach, my gaze locking onto Julian with an intensity that made the lawyer Henderson visibly shrink back. "Project Omega," I murmured, tasting the words like fine wine. "So you do know what’s in the safe, Julian. You didn't just come here for the real estate, did you? You came because you’re terrified that the financial audits Margaret left behind will expose every illegal kickback, shell company, and embezzlement scheme you’ve been running through the family trust for the last five years." Julian’s face drained of color, the slick arrogance instantly melting away into naked panic. "You... you don't know what you're talking about," Julian stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Bluffing won't save you, Clara. My men can—” "Your men can do nothing," a crisp, authoritative voice interrupted from the top of the grand staircase. We all looked up. Mrs. Gable stood on the landing, holding a heavy vintage telephone receiver in one hand while a pair of polished chrome handcuffs glinted ominously in her other hand. "I have just concluded a conversation with Sheriff Miller of the San Juan County Sheriff's Department," Mrs. Gable announced calmly, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "He and three deputies are currently at our front gates. Furthermore, I have transmitted copies of the Project Omega financial logs directly to the federal prosecutor’s office in Seattle, as per Mistress Margaret’s standing instructions in the event of an unauthorized breach of the estate." Julian spun around, staring up at Mrs. Gable as if she were a ghost. "You... you bitch!" Julian roared, losing all composure as he lunged toward the stairs. "You’ve ruined everything!" He didn't even make it two steps before Roman moved with blinding speed. Roman grabbed Julian by the collar of his expensive wool coat, hoisted him off his feet with effortless strength, and slammed him hard against the oak wall of the foyer, pinning him there with a forearm pressed tightly against his throat. "Don't you ever raise your voice in this house again," Roman hissed, his voice dropping into a terrifying, gravelly whisper that made the two hired enforcers freeze in absolute terror. "You came to our home. You threatened my wife. And now, you’re going to wait right here on this floor until the sheriff arrives to collect you." Sirens began to wail in the distance, their sharp, piercing sound echoing up from the winding coastal road below, growing louder and closer with every passing second.