“Mister... may I eat with you?” No one in my mansion dared sit beside me without permission, yet my maid’s three-year-old daughter walked straight toward the empty chair beside mine. What she whispered after I let her stay made me realize her mother hadn't entered my house by accident.

The storm raged with unrelenting fury over the harbor at Devil’s Cove.

Rain lashed against the concrete docks as massive waves slammed against the wooden pilings. Tied to the end of Pier 4 was a sleek, ninety-foot luxury yacht—the Titan—its engines roaring as it prepared to cast off into the open ocean.

Inside the high-end master cabin of the yacht, Victor Sterling sat behind a mahogany desk, rapidly pouring gold bullion and stacks of bearer bonds into an open titanium briefcase. He was a silver-haired man in his late fifties, dressed in a sharp tailored suit, his face flushed with panicked sweat.

"Is the anchor raised?" Sterling screamed into his satellite phone at his captain. "Get us out of these waters now!"

“Sir, the lines are secured, but the weather—”

BOOM!

A deafening explosion rocked the stern of the yacht, sending glass shattering across the cabin floor. The vessel lurched violently as the main power grid shut down, plunging the interior into pitch darkness.

Outside on the rain-soaked deck, Julian Hale walked through the swirling fog, holding a heavy shotgun in his hand. Behind him, two black SUVs were parked sideways on the pier, their high-beam headlights blinding the yacht's deck.

Julian racked the shotgun with a lethal CLACK.

Sterling’s remaining three bodyguards rushed out onto the deck, drawing their weapons. Julian fired twice, the heavy buckshot tearing through the rain and dropping two men into the churning black water below. Ethan, moving swiftly from the side, neutralized the third bodyguard with a swift tactical strike.

Julian kicked open the shattered glass doors of the lower cabin and stepped inside.

Victor Sterling was scrambling backward across the floor, his hands covered in glass cuts, desperate to reach a pistol dropped near the couch.

Julian stepped on the gun, kicking it out of reach across the slick floorboards. He grabbed Sterling by his jacket lapels, lifting the older man off the floor with effortless strength and slamming him back against the heavy wooden desk.

"Julian!" Sterling gasped, choking for air as his eyes bulged with terror. "Wait! Listen to me! We can make a deal! I'll give you my entire logistics company! Fifty million in offshore accounts!"

"You tried to kill my infant daughter," Julian whispered, his face inches from Sterling's trembling jaw. "You sent men to poison her in a hospital crib. You murdered my wife."

"It was business!" Sterling shrieked, tears of terror mixing with the sweat on his face. "In our world, you eliminate the bloodline! You would have done the same to me!"

"No," Julian replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I wouldn't have touched a child. That is the difference between a boss and a rat."

Julian pulled out a heavy black tablet from his vest pocket, throwing it onto the desk in front of Sterling.

"Look at the screen, Victor," Julian commanded.

Sterling blinked through his fear, looking at the tablet display. On the screen were live financial feeds showing Sterling’s international bank accounts dropping to zero one by one. Federal law enforcement logos flashed across the top of the encrypted files.

"While you were busy sending mercenaries to my house," Julian explained coldly, "my legal team delivered Grace Vance's sworn affidavit, the original hospital records from St. Jude's, and the blood samples to the FBI and the Department of Justice. At this very second, federal agents are raiding your corporate headquarters in Boston, your docks in Maine, and your estate in the Hamptons."

Sterling stared at the screen in utter disbelief. "You... you ruined me..."

"You ruined yourself the night you targeted my family," Julian said.

The sound of loud police sirens and marine coast guard horns suddenly roared through the rain outside. Bright blue and red lights illuminated the fog as three Coast Guard cutter ships pulled up alongside the yacht, their heavy searchlights locking onto the cabin.

Through the broken windows, federal agents dressed in tactical gear breached the vessel, their rifles raised.

"FBI! Don't move!" an agent shouted.

Julian slowly stepped back, raising his hands casually as the federal agents flooded the room, forcing Victor Sterling face-down onto the glass-strewn floor and slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.

The lead FBI agent, a senior director named Vance, walked up to Julian, lowering his sidearm. "Julian Hale. We received the package your attorneys sent over. It’s the most ironclad RICO case we've seen in twenty years. Sterling is going away for the rest of his life."