Part 1
My name is Clara Vance, and thirty seconds ago, I realized the man I spent six years building an empire with would rather see me bleed out on cold Italian marble than let me speak.
I stood beneath the blinding crystal chandeliers of the Grand Imperial Ballroom in downtown Chicago, seven months pregnant, clutching my trembling stomach. Across the...
Part 1
My name is Clara Evans, and six months into carrying my husband’s child, I walked into the Grand Imperial ballroom in Manhattan knowing my marriage was dead, and what I didn’t know was that my life was about to be on the line.
Flashbulbs exploded across the gilded foyer as Richard, the high-flying CEO of Evans Technologies and the...
Part 1
My name is Clara Evans, and six months into my high-risk pregnancy, I learned how quickly a marriage can become an active crime scene.
I was standing under the blinding chandeliers of the Grand Imperial Hotel in Manhattan, my hands trembling against my swollen belly, watching my husband Richard—the celebrated CEO of Evans Technologies—parade down the red carpet. Clinging...
Part 2
“Brigadier General Daniel Reeves.”
For a second, I thought I had heard the colonel wrong. Rourke definitely had.
“General?” he whispered.
Colonel Thomas Avery kept his eyes on me. “Deputy commander, Joint Task Force Sentinel. He was traveling under an operational alias because his presence on that mission was classified.”
My grip tightened around the crutch. I saw the wounded man again...
Part 2
I returned the salute.
Admiral Hale smiled. “Good to finally meet you without a secure video link.”
Mom stared at me. “You know him?”
“Commander Monroe and I have worked the same problem set for almost three years.”
Mason stepped forward. “Admiral, Mason Cole, Atlantic Meridian Systems.”
“I know the company.”
Mason brightened.
Hale did not.
He turned to me. “Shall we?”
We entered through the protocol...
Part 1
My name is Elena Hartman. At six months pregnant, every shift hauling heavy cocktail trays across the polished mahogany of a Midtown Manhattan lounge felt like sheer survival. My ankles were swollen, my winter coat was threadbare, and all I cared about was saving enough cash tips to keep a roof over my unborn baby’s head.
Then the front...
Part 1
My name is Elena Hartman, and right now, my shaking hands are the only thing keeping a silver cocktail tray from crashing onto the marble floor of Manhattan’s most exclusive lounge. I’m six months pregnant, wearing a cheap black server uniform that barely stretches over my swollen stomach, breathing through sharp pelvic pain while forty wealthy patrons turn...
Part 1
My name is Elena Hartman, and at twenty-six, carrying a six-month-old unborn baby beneath a borrowed winter coat that barely zipped, I never imagined my rock bottom would look like a crowded rooftop lounge in Lower Manhattan.
"Well, look who finally found a job," a voice boomed over the thumping bass, sharp and rehearsed.
I froze, the metal tray trembling...
Part 1
The glass shattered into a thousand jagged needles, and I hit the hardwood floor before the sound even registered in my brain.
My name is Ethan Vance. I am a thirty-four year old digital forensic analyst for the Chicago Police Department, and until thirty seconds ago, I thought my biggest problem was surviving the graveyard shift. But when an...
Federal Auditor Vance stormed into the Oregon tactical center demanding immediate control, mistaking Captain Elena Ross for a junior receptionist. When he barked, "Who’s your commander?", Elena calmly flashed her Presidential Task Force credentials and smiled: "You’re looking at him, sir." Was Vance secretly targeted before he set foot inside?
Vance thought he held all the cards, but Elena’s sudden...
