She Found Another Woman’s Ultrasound Hours Before Her Wedding, but the Mafia Boss Who Came for Her Groom Knew Why He Had Kept It

Trevor’s knees visibly buckled. He stumbled back two steps, his face turning an ashen gray under the harsh glow of the SUV headlights. The rain poured over his head, soaking his hair and plastering his white shirt to his skin.

"Vane," Trevor gasped, his voice barely audible over the roaring jet engines. "How... how did you..."

Lucian walked forward with slow, deliberate steps, his boots tapping rhythmically against the wet asphalt. A tall guard held a large black umbrella over his head, keeping the rain off his shoulders. He stopped five feet from Trevor, completely ignoring the terrified man and looking directly at Camille.

"Excellently done, Miss Hunt," Lucian said gently. "Your performance was remarkably convincing."

Trevor’s head snapped toward Camille, his eyes wide with a horrifying realization. "You... you brought him here?"

Camille stepped away from Trevor, walking over to stand beside Lucian under the edge of the large umbrella. She looked down at Trevor with cold, unyielding indifference.

"You told me last night that there were hundreds of things I didn't know, Trevor," Camille said, her voice carrying over the rain. "You were right. But the one thing I do know now is that you are a pathetic thief who thought he could use my family as collateral."

"Camille! No!" Trevor fell to his knees on the slick pavement, reaching out toward her. "He's a murderer! He's going to kill me! Tell him to stop! You love me, Camille!"

"I loved the man I thought you were," she replied coldly. "That man didn't exist."

Lucian snapped his fingers softly. Two large men in black tactical gear stepped forward from the shadows, grabbing Trevor by his arms and lifting him effortlessly from the ground. Trevor thrashing wildly, screaming into the night air as they dragged him toward the back of one of the black SUVs.

"Where is the drive, Trevor?" Lucian asked, his voice calm, almost polite.

"I don't have it!" Trevor sobbed, rain and tears mixing on his face. "It's... it's in the house! In the bridal trunk! Please, Lucian, give me a week! I'll get the rest of the funds! I'll pay you double!"

Lucian reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the sleek black USB drive Camille had retrieved from her hallway, and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.

"You mean this drive?" Lucian asked smoothly. "Miss Hunt was kind enough to deliver it to me personally."

Trevor stared at the drive, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. The final piece of his elaborate escape plan had been stripped away by the very woman he had planned to abandon.

"Put him in the vehicle," Lucian ordered flatly. "Take him to the warehouse in Cicero. I will deal with his transfer back to federal authorities once our accounts are fully restored."

"Federal authorities?" Trevor shrieked as he was shoved into the back seat. "You're turning me in to the FBI?"

Lucian leaned down to look through the open door of the SUV. "Did you think I was going to kill you, Trevor? Dead men cannot repay four million dollars. You are going to spend the next twenty-five years in a federal penitentiary working off your debt through asset liquidation. A far more practical punishment, don't you think?"

The door slammed shut, cutting off Trevor's frantic screams. The SUV pulled away immediately, disappearing into the dark, rainy night.

The tarmac fell quiet again, save for the steady patter of rainfall.

Lucian turned to Camille. He took the black umbrella from his guard's hand and held it over her head, shielding her from the storm.

"It is finished, Miss Hunt," Lucian said softly. "Your father's name is clear. Your family will not be contacted by federal investigators. And Trevor Ames will never bother you again."

Camille looked up into Lucian's dark, intelligent eyes. Her dress was damp, her hair was wet, and her wedding day had ended in a confrontation on a private airfield with a syndicate boss. Yet, for the first time in two years, she felt entirely light.

"Thank you, Mr. Vane," she said quietly.

Lucian looked down at her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her face. "The night is late, Camille. Let me take you home."

"No," Camille said, looking back toward the terminal. "Not home yet. My mother is probably still weeping over place cards. I need a drink."