When my ex-husband sent lawyers to seize my unborn triplets, he had no idea who was waiting for him at the hospital entrance.

Three weeks before my scheduled delivery date, the peace of the Bellevue estate was shattered by a sudden, desperate final move from a dying cornered predator.

It was 7:00 PM on a stormy Thursday evening.

Lucian had been called to an emergency board meeting in downtown Seattle regarding the final liquidation of Drake Development assets. He had left four additional armed security guards at the estate, ensuring the perimeter was entirely locked down before his departure.

I lay on the living room sofa, reading a book on infant care, while Mrs. Hughes prepared a warm bowl of soup in the adjacent kitchen.

Suddenly, the grand glass chandelier overhead flickered violently twice, then went completely dark as the main power grid of the estate dropped out.

The low, mechanical hum of the emergency backup generators engaged three seconds later, illuminating the hallways with soft amber night-lights.

"Mrs. Hughes?" I called out, setting my book down, my instinct instantly on high alert.

"Stay right there, Mrs. Bennett," Mrs. Hughes called back, stepping out of the kitchen with a flashlight. "I’ll check the main breaker panel in the service hallway."

Before she could take five steps, the heavy oak front doors of the estate shattered inward with a violent crash.

Three men wearing rain-soaked coats and black tactical masks rushed into the grand foyer, holding stun weapons and heavy metal crowbars. Behind them, stepping through the broken doorway, was Nathan Drake.

He looked unrecognizable. His hair was long, matted, and filthy. His clothes were ragged, his face gaunt, and his eyes burned with a wild, psychotic madness.

"Ava!" Nathan shrieked, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings of the foyer like a demon. "Where are my children?!"

Mrs. Hughes screamed, but one of the masked men roughly grabbed her arm, shoving her onto the leather sofa in the reception area.

I scrambled off the sofa, clutching my immense stomach, my heart exploding into panic. "Nathan! Stop! Have you lost your mind?!"

"You ruined me!" Nathan screamed, stepping toward me with a heavy iron wrench in his hand, his teeth bared in a terrifying sneer. "You and Blackwood stole my company! You stole my money! You stole my reputation! But you won't steal my heirs!"

Outside, the estate’s primary alarm sirens began to wail, cutting through the thunderous rain.

"The perimeter team is dead, Nathan!" one of his masked accomplices yelled nervously, checking his watch. "Blackwood’s main convoy turned around on the highway three miles back! We have four minutes before his tactical team gets here!"

"Four minutes is all I need!" Nathan roared, grabbing my arm with iron force, dragging me toward the shattered entrance. "Get her in the van! We’re taking her to the private clinic in Oregon!"

"No! Let me go!" I screamed, fighting against his grip with all my strength, my heels digging into the thick Persian rug. "Lucian! Help me!"

Nathan raised his hand, his face twisting into pure, unadulterated hatred as he prepared to strike my face with the heavy iron wrench.