The marble foyer of my River Oaks estate had always felt like a monument to my success, but as I stood silently just outside the kitchen doorway, it felt like an tomb.

The battle for my home was swift, violent, and absolute.

Within fifteen minutes, Marcus and my primary security force had completely retaken the estate. The Valdez Cartel had sent a ten-man strike team, expecting an easy snatch-and-grab while I was supposed to be in Chicago. They hadn't anticipated that I would be home, nor had they anticipated the sheer brutality of my response.

When the last gunshot faded, the ground floor of my mansion was littered with broken glass, spent shell casings, and dead mercenaries.

I stood in the ruined foyer, wiping blood from my cheek with a handkerchief, while Marcus instructed my clean-up crew to secure the perimeter and dispose of the bodies.

“Boss,” Marcus said, walking up to me with a tactical tablet. “We checked the leader’s phone. He was receiving live updates from outside the gates during the breach.”

“Who was giving him updates?” I asked, my voice deadly low.

Marcus tapped the screen, displaying a call log. “Patricia Hale.”

A cold, venomous rage burned through my veins.

Patricia hadn't just been bitter about being rejected. She had been in league with the cartel. When I kicked her out of the house earlier today, she had immediately called Mateo Valdez’s lieutenants, giving them the layout of my security system and telling them that Clara was inside with only a light guard detail.

“Where is Patricia now?” I asked.

“She’s at her private hangar at Hobby Airport,” Marcus revealed. “Her private jet is fueling up. She knows the breach failed, and she’s trying to flee to Cabo.”

I turned to my men. “Prepare three vehicles. We’re going to the airport.”

“What about the girls and Clara?” Marcus asked.

I walked back upstairs to the master bedroom and knocked three times on the steel safe door—our signal.

The heavy magnetic lock disengaged, and the steel door swung open.

Clara stepped out first, her arms wrapped protectively around Avery and Sophie. When she saw me standing there alive, a massive sigh of relief escaped her lips, and for a second, she looked as if she wanted to throw her arms around my neck.

“Daddy!” Avery and Sophie squeaked, running out of the safe room and wrapping their little arms around my legs.

I dropped to my knees, pulling both of my daughters into a fierce, tight embrace, kissing their foreheads repeatedly. “I’m here, sweeties. I’m here. The bad men are gone.”

Sophie looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Clara kept us safe, Daddy. She sang us songs in the dark room.”

I looked up at Clara, who was standing a few feet away, her hands shaking slightly, watching us with a tender smile.

“Thank you, Elena,” I said quietly, using her real name for the first time.

She flinched slightly at the name, but then gave me a brave, soft smile. “You kept your promise.”

“I have to leave for an hour to finish this,” I said, standing up and looking into her eyes. “Marcus’s best team is guarding the house. You are completely safe here.”