The man I loved for eight years refused to marry me—then he married my older sister. Three years later,

The cabin door of the Gulfstream swung open, and an aluminum airstair extended downward with a motorized hum.

Julian Moretti appeared at the top of the stairs, the cold wind whipping his silver-streaked hair across his forehead. He wasn't holding a gun; instead, he had one arm locked tightly around Victoria’s neck, the barrel of a polished Walther PPK pressed firmly against her temple.

Victoria was sobbing hysterically, her immaculate honey-blonde hair ruined by the wind, her expensive emerald trench coat stained with grease and rain.

"Stay back, Dante!" Julian screamed over the deafening shriek of the jet turbines. "One step closer, and I scatter your precious wife's brains across this tarmac!"

Dante slowly stepped out of the Maybach, his Sig Sauer raised, the laser sight painting a bright red dot squarely on Julian’s chest. I stepped out right behind him, keeping a protective hand on the rear door where Leo slept safely inside.

"Let her go, Julian," Dante said, his voice cutting through the roar of the engines like a blade. "This between you and me. The ledger is public. Your accounts are frozen. Your empire is gone. You have nowhere left to run."

"I have a plane," Julian laughed maniacally, tightening his grip around Victoria’s throat as she let out a choked gasp of terror. "And I have your cheating, manipulative bitch of a sister as my ticket out of this God-forsaken country. Drop the gun, Dante, or she dies right now!"

Victoria’s terrified eyes locked onto mine through the distance. "Elena!" she screamed, tears streaming down her painted face. "Help me! Don't let him kill me!"

For a long, agonizing moment, the world seemed to stand still. The wind whipped across the dark tarmac, carrying the scent of jet fuel and rain. I looked at the woman who had tormented my childhood, who had stolen my fiancé, who had ruined my family—and yet, as I looked at her terror, I felt no hate. Only pity.

"You really think she’ll stay loyal to you once you cross the Atlantic, Julian?" I called out, my voice steady and clear. "Victoria doesn't love you. She only loved your name. The moment the money disappeared, she tried to sell you out to Interpol."

Julian’s face twisted in sudden doubt. He glanced down at Victoria, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.