A Little Girl Told Me She Was the Boss—Then the Watch in Her Purse Turned Out to Be Buried With My Dead Brother.

The luxurious Las Vegas penthouse was silent except for the soft hum of the city far below. It had been four hours since Adrian’s teams began sweeping the city. Claire was in the expansive master bedroom, having just put an exhausted Nora to sleep in the massive, plush bed. The little girl was curled around her pink purse, completely unaware of the manhunt happening outside.

Claire walked out into the main living area. The room was bathed in the warm, cinematic glow of the modern chandelier and the bright city lights shining through the glass. Adrian was sitting on a sleek leather sofa, an untouched glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. His suit jacket was draped over a chair, and his black tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked tired, but the dangerous, magnetic aura surrounding him was as strong as ever.

Claire sat in the armchair opposite him. She tucked her legs under her, looking delicate and incredibly beautiful in the soft lighting.

Any news? Claire asked quietly.

Adrian shook his head, his thick dark-brown hair catching the light. Nothing concrete. He’s bouncing between high-limit rooms. He knows how to avoid the main cameras. He learned that from me.

Claire sighed, staring at her hands. I spent a year wondering what I did wrong. Wondering if I wasn't enough to make him want to stay. I told myself he must have been taken, that he would never just abandon Nora.

Adrian leaned forward, his intense gray eyes filled with a fierce, protective anger. Do not ever blame yourself for the actions of a coward, Claire. You gave him a home. You gave him a beautiful daughter. If he walked away from that, the flaw is entirely in him.

His words were firm, carrying absolute certainty. Claire looked up into his eyes, feeling a powerful, undeniable connection sparking between them. Adrian was everything James was not. He was present, unyielding, and profoundly strong.

Suddenly, the encrypted phone on the glass table buzzed loudly.

Adrian picked it up, his expression instantly shifting back to the controlled mafia boss. Speak, he commanded.

It was Marco. Boss, we have a visual. He’s at the Bellagio. High-limit baccarat room. He’s cashing out.

Lock down the exits, Adrian ordered, standing up, his muscular frame tense with action. Do not engage him in public. Box him in. I am on my way.

Adrian grabbed his suit jacket, slipping it flawlessly over his broad shoulders. He looked at Claire. Stay here. Marco has guards stationed at the elevator and the stairwells. You are completely safe.

I want to come with you, Claire said, standing up, her expressive blue-gray eyes filled with determination.

Adrian stopped. It’s too dangerous, Claire. He might panic. He might be armed.

I need to see him, Adrian, Claire pleaded, stepping closer to him. I need to look him in the eye and ask him why he left his daughter. Please. I need closure.

Adrian stared down at her. He saw the fierce strength hidden beneath her delicate features. He respected her courage more than he could express. He gave a single, decisive nod.

Stay exactly behind me, Adrian instructed.

They rode the private elevator down in heavy silence. The armored SUV tore through the bright, neon-lit streets of Las Vegas. Claire’s heart hammered violently against her ribs. The confrontation she had dreaded and desperately needed was finally happening.

They arrived at the massive casino. Adrian’s presence was immediate and overwhelming. The casino security, recognizing the powerful mafia boss, parted like water, allowing Adrian, Claire, and four bodyguards to bypass the crowds and walk directly into the private, velvet-lined high-limit rooms.

The room was bathed in bright golden light, quiet and exclusive.

Standing near the cashier’s cage was James Cole.

He looked older, but he still possessed the unmistakable Cole family features. He wore a sharp, expensive gray suit, looking entirely relaxed as he collected a massive stack of high-denomination chips. Standing next to him was a beautiful blonde woman in a glittering cocktail dress, laughing at something he said.

Claire stopped dead in her tracks. The air left her lungs. Her husband, the man who claimed they had to live in poverty to stay hidden, was living a life of extreme luxury with another woman.

Adrian did not hesitate. He walked forward, his heavy, polished black shoes making no sound on the thick carpet.

James turned around, a casual smile on his face. The smile vanished the second his eyes locked onto Adrian.

The color completely drained from James’s fair skin. He dropped the chips on the counter, his hands shaking violently.