a.THE MILLIONAIRE WHO SPIED ON HIS HOUSEKEEPER—AND DISCOVERED WHO WAS REALLY HURTING HIS TWINS

The gray morning fog was heavy over Westchester County Airport.

I sped my car through the side gate reserved for private hangar access, pulling up directly behind a Gulfstream G550 idling on the tarmac. Its jet engines were whining, preparing for takeoff.

Standing at the bottom of the air-stairs was Julian. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, carrying a single leather duffel bag.

When he saw my black SUV screech to a halt, blocking the stairs, his eyes widened in shock.

I opened the driver’s door and stepped out into the chilly morning air.

"Going somewhere, Julian?" I asked, my voice echoing over the roar of the engines.

Julian quickly recovered his composure, slicking back his hair with a slick, practiced smile. "David! What are you doing here? I... I heard about Marissa. Shocking news, absolutely horrifying. I was actually just heading to London for an emergency investor meeting regarding the European expansion—"

"Save it," I interrupted, walking toward him. "The flight plan says Dubai. Non-extradition."

Julian’s smile slowly faded. The warmth in his eyes died, replaced by the calculating look of an accountant covering a debt.

"You picked up the notebook, didn't you?" Julian said, dropping his duffel bag onto the tarmac.

"Valerie recorded everything," I said, stopping ten feet from him. "Every dollar. Every shell company. Every wire transfer to the cartel. You used our father’s company—our family name—to launder blood money."

"Father left you everything!" Julian suddenly snapped, his voice breaking into a venomous snarl. "He gave you the CEO chair! He gave you the stock! What did he give me? A vice-presidency! A seat at the kids' table! I built 'Project Vanguard' to get what was mine!"

"You killed Valerie!" I screamed, stepping closer. "She was the mother of my children! She was your sister-in-law!"

"It was Marissa’s idea!" Julian yelled defensively, backing up one step toward the airplane stairs. "Marissa panicked! She said Valerie was going to the SEC! She cut the brake lines—I told her not to do it!"

"But you helped her cover it up!" I shouted. "You let my sons believe they were losing their minds! You let Marissa go into my house and bruise Ethan’s arms!"

Julian sneered. "Those little brats don't matter! You don't matter, David! You're a pathetic, workaholic fool who didn't even notice his own wife was dying of fear in her own house! You were too busy staring at spreadsheets to protect your family!"

His words hit me like a physical blow. Because deep down, I knew he was partly right. My neglect had created the dark vacuum in which they operated.

"Maybe I was a fool," I said softly, looking him dead in the eye. "But I'm awake now."

Behind my SUV, three unmarked police sedans screeched onto the tarmac, sirens blaring, tires leaving black streaks on the wet asphalt. Detective Vance and six armed officers stepped out, weapons drawn.

"Julian Carter!" Vance shouted through a bullhorn. "Step away from the aircraft! Put your hands above your head!"

Julian looked at the police, then back at me. A desperate, wild look entered his eyes. He reached into his coat pocket.

"Don't do it, Julian!" I yelled.

He pulled out a small silver revolver—Valerie’s gun, the one that had gone missing from our gun safe two years ago. He pointed it straight at my chest.