Her Abusive Husband Broke Into Her Apartment — Until He Realized Who Was Waiting Inside

The small Chicago apartment was suffocatingly quiet on the freezing February morning. Pale winter daylight filtered through the narrow windows, illuminating absolute destruction.

A heavy wooden chair was overturned. Groceries were scattered wildly across the cheap linoleum floor. The landline phone was shattered into plastic shards near the baseboards.

Lying in the center of the wreckage was Isa.

She was twenty-seven, beautiful, with long wavy chestnut-brown hair and delicate features. But right now, she was shivering violently in a simple white blouse and pale-pink trousers. Her cheek was heavily bruised, faint scratches marred her neck, and she was clutching her visibly injured right arm against her chest in agonizing pain.

Kneeling right beside her on the cold floor was Rhett Valin.

Rhett was in his late thirties, tall, extremely muscular, and terrifyingly intimidating. He wore an impeccably tailored black suit, his dark wavy hair slightly tousled. He was the undisputed mafia boss of Chicago, a ruthless man who controlled shipping empires and private security firms with absolute authority.

But as he looked down at Isa, the cold executioner completely vanished. He had draped his incredibly expensive, heavy black winter coat gently over her trembling shoulders.

He had driven across the city because his quiet, perfectly reliable housekeeper hadn't shown up for her shift for the first time in fourteen months.

"Isa?" Rhett whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft, gently brushing a strand of wavy hair from her bruised cheek.