SHE TRIED TO KILL HIS PARALYZED MOTHER ON CAMERA—BUT WHEN HER HUSBAND WALKED IN EARLY, HER SICKEST SECRET WAS FINALLY EXPOSED!

"Gas!" Detective Miller shouted, coughing violently as the halon fire-suppression agent began flooding the enclosed study, rapidly displacing the oxygen in the room. "Step back from the glass! Vance, get down!"

Miller fired three consecutive rounds into the locking mechanism of the reinforced security shutter. The deafening cracks of the gunshots ricocheted within the enclosed space, but the heavy steel bolts held firm.

Julian dropped to his knees, his lungs burning as the oxygen levels plummeted. His vision began to swim with black dots. Outside the window, Evelyn was already turning, walking away with deliberate, unhurried grace toward the private balcony that led to the service stairwell.

"Miller... the emergency release..." Julian choked out, his fingers clawing at the wall beneath the mahogany desk.

"Where?" Miller gasped, dropping to his hands and knees, struggling to draw breath.

"Behind... the center drawer... manual red lever..."

Miller scrambled across the floor, his heavy tactical vest scraping against the carpet. He reached up, tearing the wooden drawer completely out of the desk frame. His gloved hand blindly searched the recessed cavity until his fingers caught the cold steel of the mechanical override lever.

With a desperate, guttural roar, Miller pulled down with all his body weight.

A pneumatic hiss cut through the roar of the fire alarms. The heavy security shutter shuddered, groaned, and retracted six inches upward before jamming on the damaged track.

"Go!" Miller wheezed, shoving Julian toward the gap. "I’m right behind you—go!"

Julian threw himself onto his stomach, squeezing through the narrow gap beneath the steel shutter. The jagged edge of the metal tore through his suit jacket and sliced into his shoulder, but the adrenaline numbing his nerves propelled him forward. He rolled onto the marble floor of the main corridor, coughing uncontrollably as cool, clean air rushed into his burning lungs.

He looked down the grand hallway. The double glass doors leading to the exterior terrace were swinging open in the howling wind. Rain was driving horizontally into the living room, soaking the silk rugs and modern art installations.

Julian stood up, his jaw set, his vision tunneling. He didn't wait for Miller. He didn't wait for the SWAT team ascending sixty flights of stairs.

He ran toward the terrace.

The storm outside was deafening. Midtown Manhattan stretched out below like a sprawling carpet of glittering, wet charcoal, sixty stories down. The wind blew with gale-force intensity, nearly knocking Julian off his feet as he stepped onto the wrap-around limestone terrace.

At the far corner of the terrace, near the private maintenance gantry that connected to the building's exterior window-washing cradle, stood Evelyn.

She had clipped a heavy industrial harness over her black gear. A heavy nylon tow line was anchored to the structural steel beams of the building's maintenance track. She wasn't taking the stairs. She was using a base-jump extraction system, designed to drop her twelve floors down to the rooftop of the adjoining commercial building, where a private helicopter was already hovering through the mist.

"EVELYN!" Julian roared over the howling tempest.

Evelyn spun around, the suppressed pistol coming up instantly.

*PFT. PFT.*

Two rounds snapped through the air. One shattered the glass balustrade inches from Julian’s head, showering him in crystalline fragments; the other ripped through the fleshy part of his left bicep.

Julian stumbled back against the brick facade, crying out in pain, clutching his arm as blood welled between his fingers.

Evelyn lowered the gun slightly, laughing into the wind, her wet hair plastered across her face. "You really are pathetic, Julian! Did you think you could physically stop me? You've never thrown a punch in your soft, pampered life!"

"You're not taking the child," Julian shouted back, his voice raw, taking a step toward her despite the blood dripping down his sleeve. "I don't care about the money. I don't care about the family name. You will not turn my child into another monster like you!"

"It isn't your child, you idiot!" Evelyn screamed back, her face contorting with a sudden, malicious euphoria.

The words cut through the roar of the rain louder than any gunshot. Julian froze.

Evelyn sneered, reveling in the agony she was inflicting. "You think you were the only one? Dominic Kane isn't just my lawyer, Julian! He’s been my partner for five years! He handles the corporate shells, I handle the marks! The baby is Dominic's! We used your name, your marriage, and your pristine reputation to create the perfect legal shield!"

Julian stared at her. The final piece of the horrific puzzle clicked into place.

The seamless legal filings. The immediate motion for dismissal. The perfectly timed ambush of the transport van. Dominic Kane wasn't representing her. He was co-conspiring with her.

"Now," Evelyn shouted, raising the pistol once more, aiming directly between Julian’s eyes. "Thank you for the twenty million, darling. Say goodbye."