SINGLE DAD TAKES IN A BEGGAR GIRL — HOURS LATER, HE DISCOVERS SHE’S A BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET DAUGHTER

The pursuit was short and brutal.

Without Marcus’s tactical driving, Nolan was no match for the high-powered SUVs. As he smashed through the rear exit gate of the timber yard, the lead SUV slammed violently into his driver-side door.

The Subaru spun out of control, flipping onto its side and crashing hard against a row of heavy concrete barriers near the riverbank. Metal screeched, glass exploded, and the world went upside down.

Nolan lay suspended in his seatbelt, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead, his vision swimming in haze. Smoke poured from the crumpled engine bay.

Footsteps crunched over shattered glass.

A heavy hand yanked open the mangled driver's door. Strong hands unbuckled Nolan’s belt, dragging him out onto the cold, muddy ground. Nolan groaned, fighting to stay conscious as he was shoved onto his back.

Standing over him was a tall man in a tailored leather coat—Victor Vance, the head of Miranda Vail’s private security firm. Victor looked down at Nolan with cold, dispassionate contempt.

Two other mercenaries dragged the contents of the Subaru’s trunk onto the ground, kicking through broken spare tires and old tools.

"The girl isn't in the vehicle," one mercenary reported, shaking his head. "Neither are the internal audit files."

Victor’s eyes darkened. He knelt beside Nolan, pressing his heavy tactical boot directly onto Nolan’s chest, applying slow, agonizing pressure. Nolan gasped for air, his ribs cracking under the weight.

"Where are they, Reed?" Victor asked in a low, dangerous tone. "Where is the girl, and where are the documents she stole?"

Nolan spat blood onto Victor’s leather boot. He grinned through his cracked lips. "They're... somewhere you'll never find them."

Victor’s face twisted in rage. He drew a silenced pistol from his shoulder holster, aiming it directly between Nolan’s eyes. "You think you're a hero, don't you? A grieving widower playing knight in shining armor. You’re a janitor, Reed. You’re nothing. And Miranda Vail will erase you from existence."

Nolan closed his eyes, thinking of Jamie’s face, of Emily’s soft laugh, and of Leah’s newfound hope. He was ready.

BOOM!

A deafening flash-bang grenade exploded fifty yards away near the timber yard entrance. Blinding white light illuminated the fog, followed instantly by the thunderous tactical roar of multi-vehicle sirens.

"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS NOW!"

Spotlights cut through the mist from three massive black armored FBI vans that burst into the yard. Dozens of federal agents in tactical gear poured out, rifles raised, taking defensive positions behind their vehicles.

Victor’s eyes went wide with shock. "Shit! Fall back!"

"DON'T MOVE!" screamed a voice over a loudspeaker.

Victor tried to raise his weapon toward the incoming agents, but a sniper shot rang out from the treeline—THWACK!—striking Victor’s wrist. He screamed, dropping the gun as he collapsed into the mud. The other mercenaries immediately threw their hands into the air, dropping to their knees as FBI tactical officers swarmed the clearing, securing the scene in seconds.

Nolan lay in the mud, staring up at the dark sky, his lungs fighting for air.

A pair of heavy boots stopped beside him. A tall, gray-haired man in a federal suit knelt down, accompanied by Marcus.

"Get a medic over here now!" the man shouted. He looked down at Nolan, offering a respectful, warm smile. "Hang in there, Mr. Reed. I'm Special Agent Arthur Vance, FBI. Your friend Marcus got the kids to my strike team just in time."

Nolan looked past the agent. Standing at the edge of the treeline, held safely in the arms of two female federal agents, were Jamie and Leah.