"They starved and locked my daughter away thinking I was a helpless old man—unaware I was an anonymous mob boss."

Leo didn't wait for a second order. He kicked the heavy double mahogany doors off their brass latches with an explosive CRACK. The wooden frames shattered, sending splinters flying through the grand foyer.

Richard Thorne stumbled backward over a marble pedestal, falling hard onto his back, while Evelyn screamed hysterically, clutching her husband's arm as four tactical operators swept past them, clearing the main floor in five seconds flat.

I walked through the shattered entrance, my heavy leather shoes clicking against the marble floorboards.

"Where is the room?" I asked, my gray eyes locking onto Richard, who was squirming on the floor like a wounded rat.

"Second floor... end of the east hall..." Richard whimpered, his aristocratic pride completely vanished, tears of pure terror cutting through the dust on his face. "Please... don't shoot! We didn't know! We thought you were nobody!"

"That was your first mistake," I replied deadpan.

I climbed the grand curved staircase, three steps at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs like a war drum. Behind me, Leo and three operators covered the landing.

At the end of the east hallway stood a reinforced oak door. On the outside, welded directly into the wood, was a heavy iron slide bolt and a padlocked chain.

They had locked my child inside a room like a rabid animal.

"Clear it," I ordered, my voice trembling with an explosive mix of rage and agonizing grief.

Leo brought a heavy hydraulic pry-tool to the iron chain.

SNAP!

The heavy lock shattered. The chain rattled to the carpeted floor. Leo kicked the door open.

The room inside was dark, freezing cold, and smelled faintly of damp concrete and copper. There was no bed. Only a thin, stained mattress resting directly on the bare floorboards near a single barred window.

Curled in the corner, clutching a torn linen sheet around her frail, shivering body, was my Audrey.

My mind flashed back to her twenty-first birthday—the radiant, laughing girl who loved painting sunflowers, whose smile could light up an entire room, who used to hug me around the neck every time I came home from a "business trip."

Now, her collarbones protruded sharply against her pale skin. Her dark hair was matted and dry. Her left eye was swollen shut, a dark purple contusion spreading across her jawline, and her arms were covered in finger-shaped bruises. She weighed no more than seventy pounds.

"Audrey..." I choked out, dropping onto my knees on the cold floor, reaching my broad hands out toward her.

She flinched violently, burying her face into her knees, trembling with an instinctual, heartbreaking terror that ripped my soul into pieces.

"Don't hit me... please..." she whimpered, her voice barely a thread of sound amidst the quiet room. "I'm sorry... I'll clean the floors... please..."

A tear spilled over my lash, burning hot against my cheek.

"Audrey, baby," I whispered raspy, pulling off my dark wool coat, wrapping it gently around her shivering shoulders. "It's Dad. It's Daddy. Look at me, sweet girl."

She slowly raised her face. Her one open hazel eye focused on me through the dark.

"Dad...?" she gasped, a small, fragile sob tearing from her throat. "Daddy... you came..."

"I came, baby," I wept softly, lifting her frail, light body into my broad arms, holding her tight against my heart as if she were made of delicate porcelain. "Daddy's here. The nightmare is over."

I carried her out of the room, down the grand staircase, stepping cleanly past Julian, who sat handcuffed on the floor weeping pathetically.