THE COLD MAFIA HEIR THREW HIS PREGNANT MAID INTO A CHICAGO BLIZZARD—FIVE YEARS LATER, SHE RETURNED AS A CEO WITH A FEARED BOSS BESIDE HER AND MADE HIM BEG FOR MERCY

Henry returned to his crumbling mansion in the suburbs, his mind in complete ruin.

He sat in his dark study, drinking straight whiskey, staring at the old leather sofa near the corner where Sophie had once stitched his bullet wound five years ago.

How had she survived?

How had she become the daughter of Victor Vance—the most powerful man in the underworld?

The door to his study burst open. Vincent ran inside, holding an encrypted tablet.

"Boss!" Vincent panted, his face pale. "I ran the private registry records for Vance Global's executive estate in Lake Forest!"

"Did you find a vulnerability?" Henry asked desperately, standing up. "A way to stall the bankruptcy?"

"No, boss... it’s worse," Vincent whimpered, handing him the tablet. "Look at the medical and school records attached to Victoria Vance’s private residence."

Henry took the tablet. His eyes scanned the document.

DEPENDENT: LEO VANCE-BANNER AGE: 4 YEARS OLD BLOOD TYPE: AB NEGATIVE

Henry’s heart stopped.

AB Negative.

It was an extremely rare blood type—the exact same blood type Henry carried.

Henry’s hands shook so hard he nearly dropped the tablet. He stared at the small school photograph attached to the file.

A little boy with dark messy hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes that were an exact replica of Henry’s own.

"The baby..." Henry choked out, tears suddenly spilling down his cheeks, blinding him. "The baby lived..."

Five years ago, he had condemned his own flesh and blood to freeze to death in a park. He had called his unborn child 'trash.'

The magnitude of his crime crashed over Henry like a tidal wave. He fell to his knees on the Persian rug, clutching the tablet to his chest, weeping hysterically into the empty, cold room.

"My son..." Henry sobbed, his voice raw with agony. "I tried to kill my own son..."

Vincent stood silent, unable to offer a single word of comfort.

Henry wiped his eyes fiercely, his despair turning into a frantic, chaotic determination. He stood up, grabbing his gun and his coat.