The evening before our wedding anniversary, my husband confessed he had fallen for someone else.

The private aviation terminal at Los Angeles International Airport was slick with midnight rain, reflecting the neon runway lights in long, shimmering streaks of red and blue. A sleek black SUV sat idling near the private hangar, its headlights cutting through the heavy coastal mist.

Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was thick with quiet tension. Alexander sat in the driver's seat, his hands resting lightly on the leather steering wheel, his expression carved from stone. Claire sat beside him, watching the private jet taxiing smoothly toward the private tarmac after touching down from Chicago.

The aircraft’s stairs lowered with a hydraulic hiss, and two figures stepped out into the damp night air.

Vanessa Blake wore a heavy designer trench coat, her dark hair blowing wildly in the airport wind. Beside her, Vance clutched a leather briefcase, scanning the perimeter with paranoid alertness. They had expected to catch Alexander off guard, perhaps meeting them with hired muscle or a panicked phone call.

Instead, they stepped off the stairs and found themselves standing alone in the vast, open expanse of the tarmac, with only a single black SUV waiting for them.

Alexander pushed open his door and stepped out into the rain, followed closely by Claire.

Vanessa froze halfway down the metal steps. Her smug, calculating expression evaporated instantly, replaced by a flash of genuine terror as she recognized the tall, imposing figure walking toward her out of the shadows.

"Alexander..." Vanessa breathed, her voice catching in her throat.

Alexander stopped ten feet away from the base of the stairs, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his dark wool coat, his dark eyes radiating pure, unadulterated ice.

"You have a terrible habit of overstaying your welcome, Vanessa," Alexander said, his voice cutting cleanly through the howling airport wind.

Vance instinctively stepped forward, reaching inside his coat. "Mr. Moretti, we just wanted to talk—"

Before Vance could finish his sentence, two unmarked federal vehicles materialized from the hangar shadows, their high-beam headlights instantly blinding the pair as half a dozen armed federal agents swarmed out, weapons drawn and ready.

"Federal agents! Keep your hands where we can see them!" a sharp voice echoed across the tarmac.

Vance froze, his hand hovering over his empty jacket as federal zip-ties were instantly clamped around his wrists.

Vanessa stood paralyzed on the metal stairs, staring down at Alexander in sheer disbelief. "You... you set us up with the feds?"