“Because,” I pointed a finger toward the front door. “The ten minutes are up.”
Right on cue, the heavy oak front door of the house clicked.
The sound was sharp, cutting through the tense, suffocating atmosphere of the room like a gunshot. Gloria froze, the silver vase gripped tightly in her hands. Marcus and Tessa whirled around to face the foyer.
The brass doorknob turned slowly.
For a second, the only sound in the house was the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Then, the door swung open.
The evening breeze swept into the hallway, carrying with it the scent of rain and asphalt. Stepping through the threshold was a towering figure clad in full military desert camouflaged utilities. His combat boots clicked sharply against the hardwood floor. His frame was broad, his jawline rugged and set in a hard, unyielding stone. On his chest, the name COMMANDER DANIEL VANCE was stitched in stark black letters. 48
He didn’t look tired from his flight. He looked like a storm incarnate.
But he wasn’t alone.
Stepping in right behind him were four men. Two of them were dressed in sharp, dark suits with earpieces winding down their necks—Federal Bureau of Investigation agents. Behind them stood two immaculate Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) officers, their badges gleaming under the foyer lights.
Gloria dropped the vase. It hit the thick Persian rug with a dull, heavy thud.
“Daniel…” Gloria gasped, her voice instantly transforming from a venomous shriek into a whimpering, fragile sob. She took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “Oh, thank God you’re home! Daniel, thank God! This… this horrible woman you married, she’s gone insane! She attacked me! Look at my wrist, she bruised me! She’s threatening us, she’s embezzling your money—”
Daniel didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at his mother.
His piercing blue eyes scanned the hallway, bypassing Gloria, bypassing Marcus, bypassing Tessa, until they locked directly onto me sitting in the armchair.
He saw the blood on my lip. He saw the angry, red, swelling imprint of a hand across my left cheek.
I saw the exact moment the control broke behind his eyes. A terrifying, murderous spark ignited in his gaze. The air in the room instantly grew cold enough to freeze.
Daniel took three slow, deliberate steps forward. The federal agents and NCIS officers moved with him, forming a wall of authority that effectively trapped Gloria, Marcus, and Tessa in the center of the room.
Marcus tried to speak, his voice cracking. “Danny, bro, listen, she’s lying about everything, she—”
“Shut up,” Daniel said.
It wasn’t a shout. It was a low, guttural command that carried the absolute weight of military authority. Marcus snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked.
Daniel stopped just at the edge of the living room. He didn’t look at his family. He kept his eyes fixed entirely on me.
“Elena,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion he was fighting desperately to suppress. “Did she hit you?”
I didn’t answer with words. I simply looked at Gloria, then back to Daniel, and gave a single, slow nod.
Daniel closed his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them, the man standing before us was no longer a son or a brother. He was a commander executing an operation. He turned his head slowly, finally addressing the three people who shared his blood.
Gloria tried to smile, a desperate, pathetic smirk. “Daniel, darling, she’s manipulating you. Family sticks together. We did this for you, to protect your house, to protect your—”
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