MY BILLIONAIRE EX THREW $30 AT ME WHEN I WAS PREGNANT AND SAID: "TAKE IT AND DISAPPEAR!" 10 YEARS LATER, I SAW HIM ON TV TELLING MILLIONS: "MY GREATEST REGRET IS THAT I NEVER HAD CHILDREN." I LOOKED AT THE 10-YEAR-OLD TWINS SLEEPING BESIDE ME—BOTH CARRYING HIS UNMISTAKABLE FACE—AND LAUGHED. THEN I TEXTED MY LAWYER: "GET THE INVITATIONS READY. WE'RE ATTENDING HIS COMPANY GALA." / Chapter 175 / 181

Chapter 175 - The Depths of Como

The water was black as coal, freezing, and thick with shifting currents.

I opened my eyes against the stinging cold, kicking downward with all the desperate, primal strength in my limbs.

Ten feet beneath the surface, illuminated by the fading, ghostly blue glow of the magnesium flare drifting through the water above, I saw them.

Noah had his arm wrapped tightly around Sophie’s chest, holding her face toward the surface, but his heavy wet clothes and his electronic chest rig were dragging them both downward toward the rocky lakebed twenty meters below.

Sophie’s small legs were kicking frantically, her bubbles rising in a frantic silver stream, her hand still miraculously clutching the blue ribbon of her plush rabbit.

I reached them.

I grabbed Noah’s tactical vest with my left hand, hooking my right arm around Sophie’s waist, pulling both of them against my chest.

I kicked upward with every fiber of muscle in my legs, my lungs burning, the darkness roaring in my ears.

Break the surface. Break the surface.

We burst through the water into the freezing mountain air, gasping for breath, coughing up lake water.

Two massive, strong hands reached down from the stone retaining wall, grabbing my wrists, hauling all three of us out of the lake in a single, magnificent heave of pure adrenaline.

Ethan.

He pulled us onto the stone flagstones, wrapping his broad arms around the three of us, pressing our wet, freezing bodies against his chest, weeping silent, ragged tears of gratitude that mingled with the rain on his cheeks.

"I’ve got you," Ethan choked out, his voice cracking into pieces. "I’ve got you... Mommy’s got you... Daddy’s got you."

Sophie coughed, sputtering water, looking down at her soaked stuffed animal.

"Barnaby... can swim, Daddy," she whispered through chattering teeth, a tiny, defiant smile touching her lips.

Noah pushed his wet hair from his forehead, looking at his father with fierce, triumphant eyes. "Did the dive angle work, Dad?"

Ethan let out a broken, joyful laugh, burying his face in his son’s wet hair, kissing his temple over and over.

"It was a perfect dive, Noah," Ethan sobbed. "A perfect dive."

Behind us on the dock, the heavy tactical boots of thirty Italian Carabinieri commandos thudded against the wood, their assault rifles raised, sweeping the perimeter as naval patrol boats illuminated the villa in overwhelming, permanent daylight.

Marcus Vance stepped onto the stone landing, accompanied by the Chief Magistrate of Milan.

"Seraphina Sterling is in custody, Victoria," Marcus announced, tossing a dry wool blanket over my shoulders. "And the Italian State Police just breached the upper library. Victor Sterling is cornered in the vault."

Ethan slowly stood up, pulling his dripping sidearm from his holster, racking the slide with a cold, final snap.