Emily’s POV

The chilly morning air at JFK’s private terminal cut through my jacket like glass as the sun began to rise over the tarmac.

A sleek, midnight-blue Gulfstream jet rolled to a complete stop fifty yards away from our armored escort cars. The stairs lowered with a metallic whine, and a tall, breathtaking woman stepped into the morning light.

Lady Charlotte Montgomery looked like she had just stepped off a Paris runway—wearing an ivory cashmere coat, dark sunglasses, and a diamond necklace that caught the rising sun. But my breath caught in my throat when I saw the young boy walking beside her.

Julian was twelve years old, wearing...