"My father sold me to a New York mob boss on my wedding night—unaware the scars on my body revealed his darkest secret."

Tonight, it looked like a battleground.

Eight broad-shouldered men wearing dark tactical jackets stood near the entrance, their hands resting flat against their weapons. Standing in the center of the marble floor, looking disheveled, flushed, and panting with a wild, greedy desperation, was my father, Edmund Ashford.

His expensive tailored suit was rumpled, his hair unstyled, and his bloodshot eyes darted frantically around the room, looking past the six armed Ferrara operators standing on the perimeter.

When Nico stepped smoothly down the final marble stair, his hands resting casually in his trouser pockets, the entire foyer fell dead silent.

"Edmund," Nico spoke softly, his baritone carrying clean and cold across the marble floor without the need to raise his voice. "You're making a spectacle in my foyer. It's past midnight."

Edmund spun around, pointing a trembling, manicured finger directly at Nico’s chest.

"Nico! This deal is off!" Edmund shrieked, his voice cracking into a high, pathetic pitch. "The marriage is invalid! My lawyers are already drafting the annulment papers! I came to take my daughter back home!"

Nico took two slow, deliberate steps forward, stopping four feet from my father.

"Six hours ago, Edmund," Nico reminded him, his gray eyes holding a terrifying, weightless intensity, "you begged me on your knees inside the private room at St. Jude's. You offered me your daughter as collateral for the eight million dollars you stole from my family's investment fund."

"I was under duress!" Edmund lied, his chest heaving as sweat poured down his forehead. "You threatened my life! I didn't know what I was saying! Nora is an innocent girl who knows nothing about business! She is mentally unstable—she requires constant medical supervision at my estate!"

Nico's jaw locked into stone.

Mentally unstable.

The exact lie a monster would use to explain away the scars covering a young woman's body.

Nico reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a gold fountain pen and a sealed leather folder.

"Your daughter is currently upstairs, Edmund," Nico said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register that made the eight Ashford guards take an involuntary step back. "And thirty minutes ago, she showed me the permanent physical marks of your 'medical supervision.'"

Edmund's face went dead, paper-white under the crystal chandeliers.

The color drained from his lips, leaving him looking like a corpse standing in the center of the foyer.

"You... you looked at her...?" Edmund stammered, his bloodshot eyes bulging out of his head in total, horror-stricken panic.

"I looked," Nico confirmed softly, taking another step closer until his shadow completely engulfed my father. "And now I am going to ask you a very simple question, Edmund. What happened to my younger brother, Marco, on the East River drive three weeks ago?"

Edmund stumbled backward, his knees buckling slightly until his chief guard caught his arm. "I... I told you! It was a street robbery! I had nothing to do with Marco's car going off the road!"

Nico offered a faint, dry smile that held zero warmth.

"My wife knows the truth, Edmund," Nico lied smoothly, playing the ultimate card. "She told me everything five minutes ago."

Edmund let out a choked, terrified gasp, turning on his heel, screaming at his guards: "GET TO THE CAR! NOW!"