He Came Home to an Empty Penthouse Smelling of His Mistress, But His Runaway Wife Left a Secret That Would Bring Chicago’s Deadliest Billionaire to His Knees

The corridor erupted into violence.

Victor didn't fight like a billionaire in a suit; he fought like a demon forged in blood. He caught the first gunman by the throat before the man could raise his rifle, driving his blade beneath the body armor into the subclavian artery, stripping the man’s assault rifle in the same fluid motion.

He spun, firing a three-round burst that dropped the second attacker instantly.

"He’s in the hall! Light him up!" the third gunman screamed.

A hail of bullets tore through the corridor. Victor dove behind a steel medication cart, feeling two rounds slam directly into his left shoulder and side. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, a searing fire spreading across his ribs as warm blood soaked through his shirt.

He gritted his teeth, ignoring the agony. He kicked the heavy steel cart with all his strength, sending it crashing into the third gunman, knocking him off balance. Victor leaned out and put two rounds through the man’s visor.

The fourth attacker—the leader—retreated toward the emergency exit stairwell, firing blindly behind him.

Victor chased him through the heavy double doors out onto the snow-covered loading dock. The freezing sea wind whipped rain and ice against his face, mixing with the blood pouring down his arm.

The gunman turned to fire, but Victor tackled him into a massive snowdrift. They wrestled in the freezing slush, the man desperately trying to bring his pistol to Victor’s temple. Victor grabbed the slide of the gun, twisting the man's wrist until the bone snapped with a sickening crunch. He ripped the weapon away, pressed the barrel under the man’s chin, and pulled the trigger.

Silence fell over the snowy dock, broken only by the howling wind and Victor’s ragged, wheezing gasps.

Victor collapsed onto his back in the red-stained snow. His vision blurred, the gray Maine sky spinning above him. The cold was creeping into his limbs, the blood pooling beneath his back freezing in the slush.

"Leo..." Victor whispered into the falling snow. "Mia... Nora..."

He closed his eyes, ready to let the darkness take him.

"Victor! Victor, wake up!"

Warm hands grabbed his face. He forced his heavy eyelids open. Nora was kneeling beside him in the snow, her coat soaked in red as she pressed her bare hands against the bleeding wound in his side. Behind her, the sirens of state police cruisers and ambulances echoed in the distance.

"Don't you dare die," Nora sobbed, her tears burning against his icy cheeks. "Don't you dare leave me to raise these babies alone, you coward! Wake up!"