The sound of shattering crystal echoed like a gunshot across the sunlit courtyard of the Montgomery estate. Up on the second-floor balcony, Eleanor Montgomery stood frozen, her manicured fingers trembling where her champagne flute had just slipped from her grip.

I stared at the faded ink inside Arthur Montgomery’s personal journal, my breath catching in my throat.

“If anything should happen to my son Charles,” the old man’s jagged handwriting read, “Eleanor will stop at nothing to seize the primary holdings. I have hidden the true primary deed inside the vault at the Lake Geneva estate—accessible only by the true bloodline of the firstborn son.”

I slowly lifted my eyes from the page and looked at Victoria.

"You didn't come here to ruin us," I realized, the pieces finally clicking together in my mind with terrifying clarity. "You came here because Eleanor knows you exist. And she's coming for you."

Before Victoria could answer, the heavy double doors of the library blew open with a deafening crash.

Lightning flashed across the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a figure standing in the doorway. It was Eleanor. But she wasn't the defeated old woman who had shuffled out of the mansion six months ago.

She wore a dark velvet trench coat, her hair styled in its usual flawless bun, and in her gloved hand, she held a heavy, vintage silver revolver pointed directly at the center of the room.

Behind her stood three armed private mercenaries in tactical gear, their rifles raised.

"Well, well, well," Eleanor smiled, a cold, deranged sound that echoed off the oak paneling. "Family reunions really are becoming a habit around here."

I stepped instinctively in front of Victoria, my hand sliding toward the panic button hidden beneath the edge of the mahogany desk. "You're trespassing, Eleanor. The police are already on their way."

"Let them come," Eleanor laughed softly, stepping further into the room, her eyes locked on the leather journal in my hand. "By the time they hack through the perimeter gates, this house—and everyone inside it—will be nothing more than ash and bitter history."

Victoria gasped, trembling beneath her woolen blanket.

I didn't flinch. I kept my eyes locked on Eleanor’s deranged gaze, slowly sliding my fingers beneath the desk edge until my thumb pressed hard against the brass button.

"You think you're the first person to try and outsmart a Montgomery, Katherine?" Eleanor sneered, raising the revolver slightly. "I built this dynasty in blood and silence long before you were born. And I will burn it to the ground before I let a nobody from the South Side—and a bastard niece I spent twenty years erasing—take it away from me."

"Mama!"

A tiny voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.

My heart stopped.

Liam, Noah, and Caleb stood blinking sleepily in their dinosaur pajamas at the top of the landing, rubbing their eyes, completely unaware of the guns aimed in their direction.

Eleanor’s head whipped around toward the stairs, a wicked, triumphant smile spreading across her lips. "Ah. Perfect timing. The rest of the heirs can watch the finale."

"Don't you dare touch them," I whispered, every drop of maternal fury rising up from the depths of my soul, overriding fear, replacing it with pure, unstoppable fire.

"Say goodbye, Katherine," Eleanor whispered, her finger tightening on the trigger.

Click.

The heavy steel doors behind Eleanor suddenly blasted inward, showering the room in splinters of oak and blinding white light.

Before Eleanor could pull the trigger, a dozen red laser dots danced across her chest.

"Drop the weapon! Federal marshals! Drop it now!"

Julian Vance stepped through the smoke, flanked by heavily armed federal agents and local police, followed closely by a familiar, terrified figure—Ethan Montgomery, handcuffed and trembling in the custody of two officers.

Eleanor froze, the revolver slipping from her fingers to crash heavily onto the Persian rug.

"It's over, Eleanor," I said, stepping forward from the desk, my voice ringing out with absolute, unshakable power. "You lost."

As the federal agents swarmed the room and pinned Eleanor to the floor, I turned and ran up the stairs, sweeping my three boys into my arms, holding them tight against my chest as they buried their faces in my neck.

The empire was safe. My sons were protected.