I CAME HOME THREE DAYS EARLY TO CATCH THE TRAITOR INSIDE MY ORGANIZATION—BUT INSTEAD, I FOUND MY 17-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER BLEEDING BEHIND A LOCKED DOOR AND MY QUIET MAID DIGGING A BULLET OUT OF HER LEG.

By 6:00 a.m., the rain had stopped, and the first rays of golden morning sunlight broke over the horizon, illuminating the scarred, water-logged grounds of the Sterling estate.

The driveway was filled with dozens of Federal Bureau of Investigation tactical vehicles, state police cruisers, and ambulances with flashing lights. Federal agents were busy cataloging evidence, hauling away Kozlov’s surviving mercenaries, and securing the financial ledgers recovered from Julian’s office.

Julian and Kozlov were loaded into separate armored medical transport vans under heavy federal guard, facing federal charges of corporate treason, murder, attempted murder, and organized racketeering.

I stood on the front marble steps of the mansion, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, as an EMT finished bandaging the bullet graze on my shoulder.

Federal Special Agent Sarah Miller walked up the steps, holding a digital tablet.

"Mr. Vance," Agent Miller said respectfully. "We've reviewed the bunker recordings, the financial transfers, and the audio confessions from Julian. Your actions tonight were fully cleared under state self-defense laws. Your empire is secure, and the threat to your daughters has been completely eliminated."

"And what about Claire Whitman?" I asked, looking toward the ambulance where Claire was sitting while a paramedic checked her cuts.

"Her military background is classified, but her record is clean," Agent Miller replied. "Technically, she saved three lives tonight. The Bureau owes her a debt of gratitude."

I walked down the steps toward Claire. She looked up as I approached, holding a warm cup of coffee.

"You look better in a uniform than a maid’s apron, Captain Whitman," I said with a faint smile.

Claire let out a quiet laugh, looking down at her torn, blood-stained clothes. "I think my days of dusting your library are over, Vance."

"I don't want you to dust my library, Claire," I said, my tone turning serious.

She looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you want?"

"I want you to head my entire global security detail," I said clearly. "I want you to build an impenetrable team to protect this family. And I want to offer you a full partnership in the foundation we're launching in your brother Marcus’s name to support veterans' families."

Claire stared at me in silence for several long seconds, her dark eyes searching my face for any trace of hesitation. Finding none, a genuine, warm smile slowly spread across her lips.