EMPIRE OF GLASS AND LIES

Charlotte was buying oranges at a small local grocer in Evanston when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She had learned to trust her instincts, a survival trait honed from years of sitting at tables with murderers and thieves.

A black sedan was idling across the street. Two men in heavy wool coats stepped out. They didn't move like Adrien's men; their suits were cheaper, their posture too aggressive. They were Russos.

Charlotte dropped the basket and ran toward the alley.

Her heart hammered in her throat, her breath pluming in the freezing air. She was ten weeks pregnant, her body exhausted, but adrenaline pushed her forward. She unzipped her purse, her hand closing around the cold grip of the Smith & Wesson.

Footsteps echoed behind her, boots crunching on the icy pavement.

"Stop right there, Mrs. Maro," a gruff voice called out. "Dominic Russo sends his regards. He thinks you'd make a wonderful bargaining chip."

Charlotte spun around, raising the gun with both hands, adopting the perfect weaver stance. "Tell Dominic he's out of his league," she said, her hands shaking only slightly.

The two men laughed, spreading out to flank her. "Put the toy away, sweetheart. You won't shoot."

The first man lunged. Charlotte pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafening in the narrow brick alley. The man cried out, clutching his shoulder, and went down. The second man charged, tackling her to the icy ground. The gun skittered away into the darkness.

Charlotte screamed, curling inward to protect her stomach as the man grabbed her hair, dragging her to her feet. "Stupid bitch," he spat, raising a fist.

Before the blow could land, a deafening roar tore through the alley. An SUV jumped the curb, its high beams blinding them. The doors flew open before the vehicle even stopped.

Adrien stepped out into the snow, looking like the devil himself. He held a custom automatic rifle, his face a mask of absolute, unhinged fury. Matteo and three other enforcers flanked him, weapons raised.

"Take your hands off my wife," Adrien commanded, the sheer authority in his voice freezing the Russo soldier in place.

The man let go, raising his hands in surrender, but Adrien didn't hesitate. He fired a single, precise shot into the man's kneecap. The soldier collapsed, screaming in agony.

Adrien dropped his weapon and ran to Charlotte, falling to his knees in the slush beside her. His hands hovered over her, afraid to touch her, afraid he might break the only pure thing left in his life.

"Charlotte," he breathed, his eyes scanning her for injuries. "Are you hurt? The baby?"

"I'm fine," she gasped, shivering violently from the cold and the shock. She looked at him, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks. He looked like a man who had been dead for weeks.

"I know the truth," Adrien said, pulling off his heavy cashmere coat and wrapping it around her trembling shoulders. "Vanessa lied. The baby is Russo's. She was a spy, a wedge they drove between us. I was a fool, Charlotte. A blind, arrogant fool. But I will spend the rest of my life making it right."