Chapter 1

The call came on a Tuesday, a gray, unremarkable day that smelled of rain and old oil at the garage.

My mother was dead.

Not just dead.

The words the detective used were cold, clinical, but they painted a picture of pure hate.

Mutilated.

Dismembered.

Eyes gouged.

Tongue cut.

My mother, Elena Vance, an investigative journalist who never backed down, who chased truth like a bloodhound, silenced in the most brutal way imaginable.

She' d been working on something big, something about corporate fraud, a smuggling ring.

She told me she was close, her voice tight with a mix of excitement and fear the last time we spoke.

I should have done more, I should have known.

But I was just Ethan, ex-Army Ranger, now a mechanic with a bad heart, a constant reminder of the explosion that ended my service.

My father, a Green Beret, died a hero in Vietnam, Medal of Honor posthumously.

Mom always said I had his courage, his loyalty.

Now, all I felt was a hollow, burning rage.

The police had leads, but nothing solid, until the security footage.

A shadowy figure, and a glint of steel.

The murder weapon.

A unique hunting knife, custom-engraved.

They showed me a still from the grainy video.

My blood ran cold.

I knew that knife.

Or rather, I knew of its design.

My mother had described it, part of a collection belonging to someone she was investigating.

Then, a week later, the world tilted.

An email, a glossy invitation to a high-profile charity auction in New York City, forwarded by a former colleague of Mom' s.

"Thought you might be interested in Lot 37," the message read.

I clicked the link.

Lot 37: "An exquisite, custom-engraved hunting knife, recently acquired."

The picture was clear, unmistakable.

It was the murder weapon.

Displayed openly, for the highest bidder.

My heart hammered, a painful, familiar rhythm against my ribs.

This was it. The key.

I had to get it.

The auction was hosted by Thorne Industries, my wife' s company.

Cassandra "Cassie" Thorne, CEO, wealthy, powerful.

And my wife.

A wife who barely saw me, who lived in a different world, a world of boardrooms and galas.

A world where Marcus Vance, her executive assistant, was her shadow, her confidant.

Marcus, charismatic, cunning.

The man Cassie believed saved her from a kidnapping years ago.

A kidnapping I actually thwarted, a truth buried, a credit stolen.

I never corrected the record, thinking it was better for her, for us.

What a fool I' d been.

Now, the knife, my mother' s murder weapon, was at her auction.

And Marcus would be there, by her side.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut.

This was no coincidence.