The sun had barely begun its descent when the sound of roaring engines shattered the tranquil peace of the island.
Amelia stood on the balcony of the estate, a silk robe draped gently over her shoulders, her fingers subconsciously caressing her belly.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
She didn't need to look.
She knew who had arrived.
Down by the estate's grand entrance, Damian stood tall and unwavering, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
His face was a mask of calm control, but his obsidian eyes burned with barely restrained fire as the black sports car screeched to a stop.
The door flew open.
And Ethan Blake emerged.
Disheveled, eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights, but still carrying that damnable arrogance etched into every line of his chiseled face.
He didn't even glance at the guards trying to block his path.
His storm-gray eyes locked directly on Damian.
And then…
On her.
From the balcony, Amelia met his gaze.
Her expression?
Cold.
Unshaken.
Untouchable.
Ethan's voice thundered through the courtyard.
"I'm here for my family!"
Damian took a single, calculated step forward, his tailored shoes clicking sharply against the marble.
His voice was low and deadly.
"You don't have a family here, Blake. You lost that right the night you left her in the rain like a discarded toy."
Ethan's fists clenched at his sides.
His breathing was harsh, his chest rising and falling like a man on the brink of collapse.
"Don't test me, Frost. She's carrying my child. And you… you think you can replace me?"
Damian smirked, a dangerous glint in his eye.
"I don't need to replace you, Blake. You erased yourself the moment you walked away."
On the balcony, Amelia closed her eyes for a brief moment, a storm of emotions swirling beneath her calm exterior.
But when she opened them again, her gaze was cold steel.
She descended the stairs slowly, every step echoing through the estate like the beat of a war drum.
She stopped between the two men, her head held high.
"This isn't a battlefield," she said calmly, her eyes flicking between them.
"But if you want a war, Ethan…"
Her voice lowered, each word sharp enough to draw blood.
"…be prepared to lose everything you're still clinging to."
Ethan's face crumbled for the briefest second before that familiar, dangerous pride rose again.
"You'll regret this, Amelia," he hissed.
Without another word, he turned on his heel, his retreating figure swallowed by the setting sun.
But even as he walked away…
His mind raced with a plan.
One last card to play.
One last desperate move to win her back—
Or destroy them all.