The first thing Lucas Moretti saw when he entered his penthouse at three in the morning was a woman in a champagne-colored nightgown sleeping on his leather couch.

“Hurry,” I whispered, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. The thermal cutter hissed louder, a tiny stream of sparks eating through the thick steel hinge of the wall safe.

Outside, the heavy footsteps grew closer. Tap, tap, tap. The unmistakable sound of Derek’s Italian leather shoes hitting the hardwood hallway floor.

Lucas didn’t rush. His hands remained steady, guiding the laser with terrifying precision. But every second felt like a lifetime.

“Lucas,” I breathed, reaching out to grab his sleeve.

“Almost,” he murmured without looking up.

Click.

With a soft, metallic thud, the heavy steel door of the wall safe swung open. Without missing a beat, Lucas reached inside, his gloved hand sweeping up a thick leather-bound ledger and a bundle of yellowed documents tied with twine. He shoved them into his tactical bag just as the handle of the study door began to turn.

In a blur of motion, Lucas grabbed my waist, yanking me behind the heavy velvet drapes of the French doors into deep shadow just as the study door swung wide open.

“Who’s there?” Derek’s voice barked into the empty room, laced with sudden paranoia.

I held my breath, pressing my face into the solid warmth of Lucas’s chest. I could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. One of his arms wrapped securely around my back, holding me flush against him, while his other hand hovered near the concealed firearm under his jacket.

A floorboard creaked as Derek stepped further into the room. The beam of a high-powered flashlight swept across the carpet, cutting through the darkness, missing us by mere inches as the heavy velvet curtain shielded us from view.

“Damn it,” Derek muttered to himself, sensing something was off. He walked over to the desk, his hand reaching out—and freezing.

The wall safe stood wide open, its hinges melted by thermal heat.

For a second, the room was utterly dead. Then, a roar of pure, unadulterated fury ripped from Derek’s throat.

“LILY!”

He slammed his fist against the mahogany desk so hard pens and ceramic holders rattled.

“I know you’re here, you ungrateful bitch!” Derek screamed, his voice echoing off the walls like a madman’s. “You think you can steal from me? You think you can ruin everything? When I find you, I’ll finish what I started!”

Inside the dark alcove behind the drapes, my entire body trembled, old trauma threatening to paralyze me. But as I looked up, the ambient moonlight caught Lucas’s face. There was no fear in his eyes—only a cold, calculated wrath.

Slowly, silently, Lucas stepped out from behind the curtain, drawing his weapon with practiced ease.

“Looking for someone, Vance?” Lucas’s voice cut through the dark room like a razor blade.

Derek spun around, his face draining of all color as he stared down the barrel of Lucas’s gun. For a moment, the high-flying corporate lawyer looked like a cornered rat, his eyes wide with stark terror.

“Moretti?” Derek choked out, staggering back against the desk. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Retrieving what you stole from my family five years ago,” Lucas said smoothly, stepping closer, closing the distance between them like an executioner advancing on his prey. “And collecting a debt for every time you laid a hand on my future.”

Derek’s eyes darted toward the drawer of his desk, where a hidden backup pistol was stashed.

It was a fatal mistake.

Before Derek’s fingers could even brush the drawer handle, Lucas moved with terrifying speed. The butt of his gun cracked sharply across Derek’s temple. With a muffled groan, the corporate titan collapsed hard onto the Persian rug, unconscious before he even hit the floor.