A PREGNANT STRANGER CRASHED MY BABY SHOWER CLAIMING TO BE MY HUSBAND'S WIFE—THEN MY FATHER CALLED HER BY A DEAD WOMAN'S NAME

My fingers wrapped around the soft blue velvet of the box. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, dense and cold beneath the fabric. Marcus took a measured step toward me, holding out his gloved left hand while keeping the weapon pointed steadily at my chest.

""A sensible woman,"" Marcus murmured. ""Bring it here.""

""Ava, don't!"" Ethan yelled, lunging forward, but the second gunman raised a secondary weapon, forcing Ethan to freeze in place with a sharp warning shout.

""Stay right there, Julian,"" the second man snarled. ""One twitch and she drops.""

I stood up straight, pretending to tremble more than I actually was. In reality, my mind had shifted into a cold, protective clarity. Seven years of longing for this child had turned me into something fiercer than a victim. I wasn't just a terrified housewife caught in a mob dispute; I was a mother, and these people had threatened my family in my own home.

""Is this what you want?"" I asked Marcus, holding the box out in the palm of my hand. ""Thirty million dollars on a tiny computer chip?""

""Smart girl,"" Marcus said, stepping closer, his focus entirely consumed by the small object in my hand.

He was two feet away when I didn't hand it over. Instead, I whipped my arm backward and hurled the heavy box with all my strength straight at the floor-to-ceiling bay window behind him.

The heavy metal casing inside the box shattered the tempered glass with a deafening crash, sailing out into the rainy garden and disappearing into the thick, thorny rose bushes below.

""You stupid bitch!"" Marcus roared, his composure instantly shattering.

That split-second distraction was all Ethan needed.

He vaulted over the overturned dining table, slamming his entire body weight into Marcus. The two men crashed violently onto the hardwood floor, knocking over a display of pastel gift bags and floral arrangements. The suppressed weapon flew from Marcus's grip, sliding across the slick floor toward the hallway.

The second intruder raised his firearm toward Ethan, but my father was already moving. With shocking precision, my father smashed a heavy crystal punch bowl directly against the man's temple. Glass and pink fruit punch exploded across the room. The second gunman crumpled instantly to the carpet, unconscious.

On the floor, Ethan and Marcus were locked in a vicious struggle. Marcus had gouged his fingers into Ethan's throat, but Ethan countered with a brutal palm strike upward into the man's nose. Bone cracked audibly. Marcus howled in pain, his grip loosening, and Ethan drove an elbow into his ribs before pinning him against the floor with an arm-bar maneuver that belonged to an operative, not a schoolteacher.

""Julianna!"" Ethan barked, breathing heavily as he restrained the struggling assassin. ""The zip ties from the tool kit in the pantry! Hurry!""

Julianna, shaking violently, scrambled across the room, ducked into the kitchen, and returned seconds later with heavy-duty plastic zip ties. Within moments, both Marcus and his unconscious partner were bound hand and foot, disarmed, and dragged into the downstairs coat closet.

The room fell into a terrifying, exhausted silence, broken only by the sound of rain blowing through the shattered bay window and the frantic sobs of my sister in the hallway.

I leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, clutch-holding my stomach as a sharp, agonizing contraction ripped through my lower abdomen.