A Six-Year-Old Girl Came to My Mansion in Her Sick Mother’s Place—Then the Name on Her Résumé Brought Back a Secret Buried Fifteen Years Ago.

The words hit the silent room like a thunderbolt.

Lucas stood frozen, his hand still gripping Julian’s collar. His mind, usually a fortress of cold logic, reeled in shock.

"What did you say?" Lucas asked, his voice barely audible, yet edged with lethal sharpness.

"It's true!" Julian gasped, clutching his chest in terror. "Arthur Vance had an affair thirty-two years ago with a woman named Mary Carter! Anna is Arthur Vance's illegitimate daughter! That's why Victor tried to get rid of her fifteen years ago! It wasn't about her poverty, Lucas—it was because she was a Vance!"

Lucas slowly let go of Julian’s collar. He took two steps back, his chest tight.

The piece of paper. The note hidden behind Anna's résumé.

You promised you would protect her if I ever sent the mark.

The mark—the silver oak leaf crossed by a dagger—wasn't the Blackwood crest. It was the personal seal of Arthur Vance.

Anna hadn't brought that note from a dead father's legacy. She was carrying her own father's mark.

Which meant Emma wasn't just a Blackwood. She was the direct blend of both warring families—the ultimate heir to both the Blackwood empire and the Vance syndicate.

And Marcus Vance had known it all along.

Lucas pulled his satellite phone from his pocket, his thumb pounding the speed dial for Marcus Vance's boat.

The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then it clicked open.

"Marcus," Lucas barked into the phone. "Turn the boat around."

Static hissed through the speaker. A moment later, Marcus's smooth, dry voice came through, entirely unbothered by the storm.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Lucas," Marcus said calmly.

"You knew," Lucas growled, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth hurt. "You knew Anna was Arthur's daughter. You used me to get her and Emma out of the city."

"Of course I knew, boy," Marcus chuckled softly over the line. "Arthur was my brother. Did you really think I'd let a Blackwood control the entire three-billion-dollar trust? Anna is a Vance. Her daughter is a Vance. The bloodline returns to its rightful owners tonight."

In the background of the call, Lucas heard a muffled scream—Anna's voice.

"Lucas!" Anna shouted through the speaker, her voice distant and terrified. "The boat isn't going to Maine! He's—"

The call abruptly cut off, replaced by a dull dial tone.

Lucas shoved the phone into his pocket, his dark eyes burning with absolute, terrifying fury.

He turned around to face Julian, who was cowering in the leather chair.

"Where is Marcus taking them?" Lucas demanded, leaning over the desk, his massive frame blocking out the light.

"I... I don't know!" Julian squealed. "I swear I don't know! Marcus operates independently!"

Lucas grabbed a heavy glass paperweight from the desk and slammed it down onto the wood, inches from Julian’s face. The desk cracked under the impact.

"Think again, Julian!" Lucas roared. "Where does Marcus hide his heavy assets?!"

"The old lighthouse!" Julian yelled, shielding his head with his arms. "The abandoned station on Blackwood Island! Near the mouth of the bay! He owns the deed through a shell company!"

Lucas released the collar, leaving Julian gasping for air.

Without another word, Lucas turned and headed for the study doors. But as he reached the hallway, a shadow stepped out from the darkness near the grand staircase.

It was Harold.

He was bleeding slightly from a cut on his forehead, his suit jacket torn, holding a heavy shotgun at his hip.

Lucas stopped, his hand instantly dropping to his holster. "You again, Harold?"

Harold didn't raise the shotgun. He held it pointed at the floor, his head bowed in quiet shame.

"I overheard the phone call, Lucas," Harold said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "I was wrong. I thought Marcus was trying to save the family. I didn't know he was planning to take the child for himself."

Lucas stared at his former head of security, his expression unreadable. "Get out of my way, Harold."

"No," Harold said, taking a step forward and tossing the shotgun across the floor. It clattered to a stop at Lucas's feet. "I failed your father, and I failed you tonight. But I won't let Marcus Vance take that little girl. Take my boat key. It's the high-speed interceptor docked at Pier 14. It's twice as fast as Marcus's launch."

Lucas looked down at the silver key ring resting near his boots, then up into Harold's tired, aging eyes.

"Why should I trust you?" Lucas asked cold.

"Because I watched that little girl look at you in the foyer tonight," Harold said quietly, a faint, sad smile appearing on his stern face. "She has your eyes, Lucas. And whatever mistakes Victor made... you're a better man than your father ever was."

Lucas stayed silent for two seconds. Then he stooped down, picked up the boat keys, and looked at Harold.

"Keep Julian locked in the cellar until I return," Lucas ordered. "If he escapes, I'll hold you personally responsible."