My mother’s killer was New York City’s mayoral hopeful Bigsby Calhoune—and I wanted him dead. But killing him fast would be too easy. I planned to ruin him, stripping away everything he held dear—his wealth, his trophy fiancée, his political career, and his freedom. Bigsby was a dirty criminal underneath his slick, cleaned-up politician veneer. He might have a new identity and life, but he was still the power-hungry thug who had killed my mother and left me to die. “He’s going to pay for what he did,” I hissed. Bigsby was unfinished business, business I’d been waiting to resolve for far too many years. I had thought of nothing but revenge. It’d consumed me. Just thinking about the night when the unknown assailant wearing a ruby and diamond-encrusted horseshoe gold ring had shot my mother and left me choking on my own blood fueled my hate fire. My mother had died, but I survived. I’d finally found the owner of the ring—Bigsby. What are the odds of that? I had been searching for that ring for years, and it was right under my nose.
