A bucket of freezing water hit Heidi's face.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her lungs burned as she sucked in the foul air. The heavy stench of gasoline and rotting mold filled her nose.

She was lying on a freezing concrete floor. Dust coated her skin. A violent, tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen, making her curl inward.

Brigette stood a few feet away. In her arms, she held two screaming newborns. A boy and a girl.

Heidi tried to push herself up. Rough nylon rope bit into her wrists. She was tied securely to a rusted iron pillar.

Brigette looked down at her with absolute disgust.

"You are like a cockroach," Brigette sneered. "I can't believe you actually birthed them in the back of the transport van."

"Give them to me," Heidi rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper. "Leo. Luna. They are mine."

Brigette laughed. She turned and handed the two crying infants to a massive bodyguard wearing a black ski mask.

Brigette walked up to Heidi. She crouched down. Her sharp acrylic nail dug into Heidi's cheek, slicing a thin line down to her jaw. Warm blood trickled down Heidi's neck.

"They are my children now," Brigette whispered.

The bodyguard picked up a red plastic jug. He started walking in a circle around the iron pillar, pouring the pungent gasoline over the concrete. The liquid splashed onto Heidi's bare legs.

Heidi pulled frantically at the ropes. The friction tore the skin off her wrists. Blood dripped onto the floor. The iron pillar didn't move an inch.

Brigette pulled a thick Cuban cigar from her pocket. She lit it, took a long drag, and smiled.

She flicked the glowing cigar directly into the puddle of gasoline.

Whoosh.

A wall of blue and orange flames erupted instantly. The heat hit Heidi's face like a physical blow. The fire formed a perfect, deadly circle around her.

Brigette turned her back. She walked out the heavy metal doors of the warehouse with the bodyguard and the babies. The heavy deadbolt slammed shut from the outside.

The temperature skyrocketed. Heidi's skin began to blister. Thick, black smoke poured into her lungs. She coughed violently, her chest heaving.

She was going to burn alive.

Suddenly, a contraction hit her so hard her spine bowed against the iron pillar.

Heidi's eyes widened in sheer horror. The pain wasn't over. The pressure in her pelvis was unbearable.

Her body convulsed, a primal, undeniable pressure bearing down on her pelvis. It didn't matter what the incompetent doctors had told her four years ago about twins. Her body knew the terrifying truth. There was another life fighting to escape the inferno.

Survival instinct hijacked her brain. The heat was melting the soles of her hospital socks. Heidi bit down on her own lip until she tasted copper. She let out a blood-curdling scream and pushed.

The induction drugs from the hospital were still ravaging her system. Combined with the extreme adrenaline, her body forced the process.

A third baby slid out onto her blood-soaked hospital gown.

Heidi's hands shook violently. She reached down, her fingers brushing against a sharp piece of broken glass on the concrete. She grabbed it. She didn't hesitate. She sawed through the umbilical cord.

A minute later, another agonizing push tore her open. The fourth baby arrived.

Their weak, tiny cries were completely drowned out by the deafening roar of the wooden roof beams catching fire above her.

Heidi pulled the two tiny, slippery bodies to her chest. She curled her body over them, using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers. Searing pain lashed across her shoulder blades as sparks burned into her flesh.

The smoke was too thick. She couldn't breathe. Her vision faded to black. The only thing keeping her conscious was the tiny, rapid heartbeats fluttering against her chest.

CRASH.

The glass skylight above shattered into a million pieces. A massive gust of wind hit the warehouse floor, blowing the smoke outward.

A military-grade, unmarked black helicopter hovered directly above the hole. A blinding spotlight pierced the smoke, locking onto Heidi's curled body.

Two men in full tactical gear rappelled down the ropes. They landed perfectly inside the ring of fire.

One man whipped out a tactical knife. He sliced through the thick nylon ropes binding Heidi's wrists in one fluid motion.

The second man threw a heavy, silver fire blanket over Heidi and the two babies. He secured a heavy carabiner to her waist.

The winch engaged. Heidi felt her feet leave the ground.

In the final second before she completely lost consciousness, she felt the cool night air hit her face as she was pulled up into the dark sky.

Inside the helicopter cabin, a man in a bespoke suit caught her. Iain Mcdaniel looked down at his sister's severely burned face. His jaw clenched tight. His fists shook with pure rage.

The helicopter banked hard and sped into the New York night.

Below them, the Brooklyn warehouse collapsed in a massive, fiery explosion, leaving nothing but ash.

The Gulfstream G650 touched down smoothly on the private runway at JFK Airport. The roar of the engines slowly died down.

The cabin door opened.

Heidi stepped onto the stairs. The crisp autumn wind of New York whipped her long, dark, wavy hair back. She wore a custom-tailored, deep-V black trench coat and red-bottom stilettos.

She raised her chin. Her face was entirely different. Four years of agonizing reconstructive surgeries had erased the soft, timid girl she used to be. Now, her features were sharp, cold, and breathtakingly striking.

Four-year-old Caleb walked calmly by her left side. He wore a miniature tailored suit. He pushed his blue-light blocking glasses up his nose, his eyes scanning the tarmac with unnatural calculation.

On her right, four-year-old Seraphina bounced on her heels. She wore a fluffy pink dress and clutched a worn stuffed bunny to her chest.

Heidi gripped their small hands. She walked into the VIP arrivals terminal. Her presence immediately drew the stares of the few wealthy travelers scattered around the lounge.

Suddenly, a rapid burst of camera flashes erupted from the right corridor.

Heidi stopped. Her eyes darted toward the noise behind her dark sunglasses.

Surrounded by a dozen men in black suits, Christian Page walked into view.

He wore a charcoal gray suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. Four years had made his jawline sharper, his presence even more suffocatingly cold.

Brigette tried to cling to his arm, but he subtly kept a formal distance, allowing her only to lightly touch his elbow. She wore the latest Chanel tweed jacket, flashing a practiced, elegant smile at the paparazzi.

Heidi's hands shoved into her trench coat pockets. Her fists clenched so hard her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. Her blood boiled.

Caleb felt the sudden, rigid tension in his mother's arm. He tilted his head, his sharp eyes locking onto the crowd.

Seraphina stopped bouncing. Her large eyes fixed on Christian. She tilted her head.

"Mommy," Seraphina whispered, her voice soft. "That man looks really sad inside."

Heidi took a sharp breath. She forced her muscles to relax. "Don't stare, kids. Keep walking."

A gossip reporter shoved a microphone past the security line. "Mr. Page! When is the official wedding date with Miss Rutledge?"

Christian's footsteps stopped. A flash of pure disgust crossed his eyes. He glared at the reporter.

Brigette immediately pressed her chest against his arm. "We are currently planning the details," she answered sweetly.

Christian didn't say a word. He violently yanked his arm out of Brigette's grasp. He didn't care about the cameras. He didn't care about her frozen, humiliated expression.

Heidi watched from a distance. A cold smirk touched her lips. Trouble in paradise.

Christian turned to walk away. But then, he stopped.

His body went rigid. He snapped his head toward the VIP exit.

Across thirty feet of bustling terminal, his eyes locked directly onto Heidi.

Heidi's heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. But she didn't look away. She lifted her chin higher, staring right back at him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Christian's dark brows pulled together. He stared at the tall, cold woman in the black coat. His chest tightened. A bizarre, suffocating wave of familiarity slammed into his ribs.

Brigette followed his gaze. She only saw a wealthy woman with two kids. "Christian? The car is waiting."

His assistant leaned in. "Sir, the board meeting is in an hour."

Christian broke the eye contact. He swallowed hard, pushing down the sudden ache in his chest. He turned and walked through the sliding glass doors.

Heidi watched the black Page family motorcade pull away from the curb. She slowly took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were like arctic ice.

The Mcdaniel family butler stepped forward and bowed. "Welcome back, Miss. The Manhattan penthouse is ready."

Heidi put her sunglasses back on. She squeezed her children's hands.

"The game starts now," she said coldly. "Let's go home."

The black Lincoln Continental merged onto the Van Wyck Expressway. The air inside the cabin was suffocatingly thick.

Christian pressed a button on the armrest. The dark privacy glass rolled up, completely sealing the back seat off from the driver.

He yanked at his silk tie, loosening it. He couldn't get the image of that woman in the airport out of his head. The slope of her shoulders. The way she stood. It made his skin crawl with a ghost he had been trying to bury for four years.

Brigette picked up a crystal flute from the mini-bar. She poured champagne and leaned toward him, her voice dripping with honey. "Drink, darling?"

Christian didn't even look at her. He backhanded the glass.

The crystal shattered against the door panel. Amber liquid splashed all over Brigette's expensive Chanel skirt and the plush floor mats.

Brigette gasped, jumping back. She grabbed a napkin, her face flushing with anger and humiliation.

"Why did you do that in front of the reporters?" she snapped, her voice losing its sweet edge. "You made me look like a fool!"

Christian slowly turned his head. His eyes were dead. They sliced over her face like scalpels.

"Do not forget what you are," Christian said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "You are a PR tool. Nothing more."

Brigette bit her lip. Her hands shook. "I am the mother of your children! Everyone knows I gave birth to Leo and Luna. I am the future Mrs. Page!"

Christian's eyes darkened into something terrifying. He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug into her bones like a vice.

"If those children didn't need a mother on paper," Christian hissed, his face inches from hers, "you would have been thrown out of New York four years ago."

Brigette winced in pain. Panic flared in her chest. She knew he had been secretly investigating the hospital records from that night.

She forced tears into her eyes. "I almost died saving your life! I gave you your heirs!"

Christian's face twisted with absolute revulsion. He violently shoved her hand away. He leaned back against the leather seat, looking exhausted.

"I haven't touched a single hair on your head in four years, Brigette," he said, his voice hollow. "Don't push your luck."

The words slapped her across the face. The illusion she sold to the world was a lie. He had never slept with her. Not once since the fire.

"If you ever call the paparazzi to stage another wedding stunt," Christian warned, staring out the window, "I will cut off your trust fund by morning."

Brigette went pale. She swallowed her pride and nodded quickly.

The car fell into a dead silence.

Christian reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. His thumb rubbed against a small, silver ring. The edges were charred black from fire. It was the only thing they recovered from the warehouse. Heidi's ring.

Every time he closed his eyes, he heard her screaming his name on the phone. The guilt ate his stomach alive.

Brigette watched him stare at the ring. Pure venom flashed in her eyes.

She pulled out her encrypted phone. She typed a quick message to her biological father, Bobbie Weeks. Accelerate the plan. The old man needs to die now.

The Lincoln pulled up to the Wall Street headquarters. The bodyguard opened the door.

Christian stepped out, instantly transforming back into the ruthless CEO. He walked into the lobby without looking back.

Brigette sat alone in the back seat. She crushed the napkin in her fist and threw it at the floor.

Inside the elevator, Christian's assistant held an iPad. "Sir, the underground surgeon you hired has arrived in New York."

Christian's eyes sharpened. "Book the consultation at the hospital for tomorrow morning. Whatever the cost."