A senator’s daughter slapped a pregnant maid at her mother’s grave—then the mafia boss who fathered her child walked through the cemetery gate.

Adrian pulled a sleek black tactical pistol from his desk drawer, racking the slide with practiced ease.

He bounded up the central staircase two steps at a time, bursting into Mara’s master bedroom just as she sat up in bed, terrified by the wailing sirens.

"Adrian! What's happening?" Mara cried out, clutching her chest.

"Whitmore’s mercenaries are attempting a breach," Adrian said calmly, walking over and lifting her into his arms. "We're moving to the subterranean bunker."

"What about Charlotte?" Mara gasped as he carried her down a hidden service corridor behind the room's grand wardrobe.

"She's already locked in the safe room below," Adrian replied.

They reached a reinforced heavy steel door embedded deep in the granite bedrock beneath the mansion. Adrian entered a seven-digit code and pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner.

The heavy door slid open with a hiss, revealing a luxurious, fully-equipped bunker featuring plush seating, medical supplies, and live security monitors displaying the estate grounds.

He settled Mara onto a soft leather sofa, placing a warm blanket over her lap.

"Stay here," Adrian instructed, placing a small emergency communicator in her hand. "The door seals automatically from the inside. Nothing short of a bunker-busting missile can pierce these walls."

"Adrian, please don't go out there!" Mara grabbed his sleeve, tears shining in her eyes. "You don't have to fight them for me!"

Adrian looked down at her hand on his wrist. He reached up, cupping her face gently, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her lips that tasted of rain and sweet promise.

"They brought violence to my home, Mara," Adrian whispered against her cheek. "And they threatened the woman I love. I am coming back to you. I promise."

He stepped outside, and the steel door sealed shut with a heavy, pressurized lock.

On the security monitors, Mara watched in horror as dark-clad mercenaries stormed the front lawn, exchanging heavy automatic fire with Adrian’s security force.

In the center of the screen, Adrian moved with terrifying precision. He wasn't just a wealthy businessman; he was a man trained in the darkest arts of defense. Flanked by Marcus and his men, Adrian pushed the attack back toward the ruined gates, dropping mercenary after mercenary with surgical accuracy.

Suddenly, Mara noticed a flash of red on one of the secondary monitors showing the rear greenhouse.