genuine hearted

Edwin Cole has kept himself invisible, living quietly on the margins, drawing no attention. Then word comes that his younger sister has been seized by Tyler Thorne, a brutal criminal lord operating out of a foreign nation. The police need someone inside. He says yes. What follows is a tightrope walk through a den of violence: Edwin earns Tyler's trust inch by inch, deflecting tests and power plays from suspicious lieutenants while building a case from the inside out. His only lifeline is a police informant codenamed Rose, and together they chip away at the organization's foundations by dismantling cells, neutralizing enforcers, and surviving confrontations with genuine killers. He never loses his line. No matter how deep the cover, how high the stakes, how brutal the world he's navigating, the mission stays the same, to tear it all down, get his sister back, and make sure no one else's family ends up where his did.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?