All this time, he’s had access to the cameras. All these months, he’s been watching me, my children, our family, like some creepy, clandestine version of Big Brother.

I stare at him in shock, in horror. “You’ve been spying on us?”

“Don’t look so disgusted. I closed my eyes to your and Cam’s, uh, alone time. I didn’t watch because hell, good on you. Married all these years and still getting it on, bravo for you two lovebirds. But I’m no Peeping Tom. That’s not what any of this is about.”

“What’s it about, then?”

“I just told you. Those three cameras have been uploading today’s action—and hoo boy, has there been some action—to the internet.”

“Why, so there’s video of you killing us?”

The bastard rolls his eyes. “Hello. Who’s the one holding the weapon?”

“You still have a switchblade.”

“I also have a bullet in my shoulder, which hurts like a mother, by the way. And judging from the volume of those sirens outside, cops are about to bust through the front door and storm up here in—” he points a gloved finger to the ceiling, listening “—what do you think—two, three minutes tops? That doesn’t give us much time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for your darling husband to get here with my money. Time for me to take it and disappear into the night.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! You just told me there are people watching, which means they’ll know who you are. Cam and I know who you are. All of us can pick you out of a lineup.”

He winces. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, the pulling-off-the-mask bit wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but we’ve already determined I am a desperate, desperate man. I can’t let my baby girl die, Jade. Her death is not an option.”

A tiny pang beats behind my breastbone.

Understanding.

Sympathy.

As much as I hate Sebastian, as much as I hate what he’s done to me and my family, I feel sorry for the father who’s about to lose his daughter. I feel sorrow for Gigi’s illness, for having to live however many days she’s got left with the knowledge of what her father did—for her.

Focus, Jade. This man doesn’t deserve your compassion.

I spot a roll of duct tape on the floor by the windows.

“Get up.” Without taking my aim off him, I push to a stand and shuffle Beatrix and me that way. “Stand up and move to the chair. Slowly.”

“I hear it’s hard to get blood out of such fine Italian leather. That doesn’t seem like a very good plan.”

“Get up.” I kick the roll closer with a foot, then poke the gun in his direction, aiming it at his face. “I mean it, Sebastian. Get on the chair.”