The echo of gunfire rang through the broken estate like a death knell announcing the fall of an empire.
Smoke curled through the air, thick and suffocating, the acrid scent of burning debris mixing with the sharp, metallic tang of blood.
Amelia lay on the cold marble floor, her breath shallow, her vision blurred.
Her trembling hands pressed instinctively against her belly, her mind spiraling into a silent scream.
Please… not the baby. Anything but the baby…
Through the fog of pain, she saw two figures locked in a brutal struggle.
Damian and Ethan—two men fighting not just for power, but for her.
For control of her fate.
For the future of the child she carried.
Ethan's face was twisted in a mask of desperation, his fists flying with the fury of a man who had already lost everything.
Damian, blood trickling down his temple, stood unyielding—his eyes locked on Ethan with the cold focus of a predator delivering the final blow.
Suddenly, Ethan lunged for Amelia.
His hands reached toward her belly, his voice hoarse and wild.
"Give me my child, Amelia! You have no right!"
With the last strength she had, Amelia pushed herself up, her palm slamming across Ethan's face with a resounding crack.
Her voice tore from her throat, filled with every ounce of fury and pain she'd buried for years.
"You lost your right the day you abandoned me in that rain-soaked church!"
Ethan staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief.
And before he could recover, Damian's fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Breathing heavily, Amelia crawled toward the cradle, her tears falling freely now as she held her child close.
"You're safe, my love… Mama's here… I won't let anyone take you away…"
Sirens wailed in the distance, their piercing cries growing louder.
Damian stood over Ethan's fallen body, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched and ready to strike again if necessary.
Amelia's tear-filled eyes met his.
For the first time, she saw something more than just a protector in his gaze.
She saw hope.
She saw a future.
"It's over, Amelia," Damian said softly, his voice raw with emotion.
"You're free."
But even as those words left his lips…
A final, cold gust of wind swept through the shattered halls, carrying with it a chilling whisper that seemed to rise from the very shadows.
"You'll never be free of me… Amelia…"
Amelia's eyes darted toward the darkness beyond the crumbling arches.
But there was nothing.
Or was there?