The silence in the cathedral was absolute. Even the soft humming of the projector sounded like a roaring engine. On the high-definition screen hung above the mahogany casket, Ethan Carter sat in his familiar leather armchair, leaning forward, looking directly into the lens. His expression wasn't one of a dying man; it was the sharp, calculated gaze of a man who knew every move his enemies would make before they even made them.

Victor Vance adjusted his tailored Italian suit, stepping into the center of the library with a smug grin. The three mercenaries behind him kept their automatic rifles trained directly on Ethan's chest and my swollen abdomen.

"You always were too clever for your own good, Ethan," Victor said smoothly. "Just like your father. He thought he could turn against Apex, too. Do you know what happened to him? He didn't die of a heart attack. I sat in his bedroom and held a pillow over his face while your mother watched from the doorway."

I gasped, pressing my back against the bookshelf. Ethan’s jaw clenched so hard a vein throbbed along his temple, but he kept his firearm lowered, evaluating the distance between himself and Victor.

"You're a sick bastard, Victor," Ethan growled. "You murdered your own brother-in-law."

"It was business," Victor replied casually. "And now, it’s time to clean up the loose ends. Hand over the red ledger, Ethan. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll let your pathetic wife live long enough to deliver that child in a federal prison."

Ethan slowly raised the red ledger in his left hand. "You want the ledger, Victor? Come take it."

Victor smirked and stepped forward, reaching out his hand. "Wise decision—"

Before Victor could finish his sentence, Ethan tossed the ledger straight into the air toward the massive crystal chandelier hanging above the room.

Victor’s eyes instinctively tracked the book upward.

In that split second of distraction, Ethan fired two rapid shots. The first bullet took out the mercenary on the left; the second hit the light switch panel, plunging the entire mansion into pitch-black darkness.

"Kill them!" Victor shrieked in the dark.

Muzzle flashes illuminated the library in rhythmic bursts of bright white light. Gunfire deafened the room. Glass shattered, books were ripped to shredded paper, and plaster rained down from the ceiling.

Ethan grabbed my arm in the dark, pulling me hard toward the heavy mahogany desk. "Get down!" he shouted over the noise, pushing me under the heavy wood structure just as a hail of bullets ripped through the wall where we had been standing a second ago.

Ethan returned fire in the dark, his shots precise and deadly. Two loud thuds signaled the remaining mercenaries hitting the hardwood floor.

"Ethan!" Victor screamed frantically from near the doorway. "You can't win! The charges are set!"

I heard the distinct sound of a footstep right beside our desk. I looked through the darkness and saw the silhouette of Victor raising his gun toward the back of Ethan's head.

Without thinking, I grabbed a heavy brass paperweight from the bottom shelf of the desk and swung it with all my strength into Victor’s ankle.

"AAAGH!" Victor screamed, tumbling sideways into the bookshelf. His gun clattered across the floor.

Ethan spun around, grabbed Victor by his lapels, and slammed him face-first into the stone fireplace. The detonator slipped from Victor's grip, bouncing across the floor toward me.

I lunged forward, grabbing the detonator and squeezing the safety switch shut so it couldn't be triggered.

Ethan threw Victor onto his back, placing his knee heavily onto his chest and pointing his weapon straight between Victor’s eyes.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out right now," Ethan panted, his breath ragged.

Victor spat blood onto the rug, laughing maniacally despite the gun at his forehead. "Go ahead, shoot me! It doesn't change anything! You think this was about money, Ethan? You think your mother hated Sarah because she was poor?"

Ethan's finger tightened on the trigger. "Shut up."

"She hated Sarah because of WHO she is!" Victor cackled, his blood-stained teeth glistening under the moonlight filtering through the broken windows. "Ask your wife, Ethan! Ask her about her biological father! Ask her why her mother abandoned her at an orphanage in Los Angeles twenty-six years ago!"

My blood turned to ice. I stared at Victor in horror. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mother didn't abandon you, Sarah," Victor sneered, turning his bloody gaze to me. "She was forced to hide you! Because your biological father was Arthur Carter—Ethan’s father!"

The library fell into a terrifying, suffocating silence.

The wind roared through the broken windows, blowing cold rain into the room.

I felt as if the ground beneath me had dissolved into nothingness. I stared at Ethan, my eyes wide with shock. Ethan looked down at Victor, his face completely pale, his hands trembling on the weapon.

"You're lying," Ethan whispered, his voice stripped of all confidence. "You're lying to save your life."

"Check the red ledger, boy!" Victor laughed hysterically. "Page forty-two! Arthur Carter’s private estate disbursements! He paid five million dollars to an off-shore trust for Sarah Vance’s adoption! Sarah isn't an outsider, Ethan..."