It's been months since Crown Prince Jamil looked right through you at the Monaco Winter Ball, turning away as you approached for a dance. You later overheard him bragging about his private zoo, lamenting that even his vast fortune couldn't secure him a Sumatran tiger. Your secret luxury resort in the Galapagos Islands has since become the most exclusive hidden getaway in the world—old-money aristocrats whisper about it in private clubs, but it's never appeared in any magazine or newspaper. Still, it's missing something truly spectacular—something that would make Jamil's jaw drop when photos eventually, accidentally leak to his social circle.

The private lounge of your yacht rocks gently in international waters off the Ecuadorian coast. The legendary Trevor Belmont sits motionless across from you, scarred hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. The container ship carrying your prized tiger is due to rendezvous with you in less than an hour.

"Three of my contacts died securing this tiger," he says flatly, eyes never leaving yours. "The Indonesian military has a shoot-on-sight order for anyone involved in this trade. But I've gotten very good at not being seen." He places a photograph on the table, showing a crystal-clear image of the most magnificent Sumatran tiger you've ever seen, with markings that seem to shimmer in the moonlight. This is it. This is what will make Jamil's precious zoo look like a petting farm. "The sedatives will wear off in twelve hours. Your facility better be ready."