The hospital room was bathed in soft, golden light.
Birdsong filtered through the half-open windows, a rare moment of peace after the storm of blood and pain.
Amelia lay propped up against the pristine white pillows, her face pale but serene, her arms gently cradling her newborn son.
The boy slept soundly, his tiny fists curled near his rosy cheeks, each shallow breath a miracle she had fought death itself to witness.
Tears welled in Amelia's eyes as she traced her fingers gently along the soft curve of his fragile face.
His tiny heart beat against her chest—a quiet, rhythmic reminder that despite everything she had lost… this was her victory.
"My little prince…" she whispered, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead. "No one will ever hurt you. I swear it."
Damian stood quietly by the door, his usually sharp eyes softened by the sight before him.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, hope hung thick in the air—sweet, fragile, and almost too beautiful to be real.
"He's perfect, Amelia," Damian murmured, stepping closer.
She looked up at him, her lips trembling with the weight of emotions too deep for words.
"Thank you… for everything," she choked out.
Damian's eyes darkened slightly, his voice low and raw.
"I'd burn the whole world to keep you both safe."
But even as those words left his lips, a creeping unease settled over the room like a cold draft slipping through unseen cracks.
Hours later, as exhaustion finally claimed Amelia, she drifted into a deep sleep, the baby resting peacefully beside her crib.
Damian stepped out for just a moment—to make a security call, to ensure nothing could touch them now.
But it only took that moment.
The next time Amelia opened her eyes…
The crib was empty.
The blanket—a soft, pale blue embroidered with his name—lay folded neatly at the edge.
Her heart stopped.
Her throat constricted, a scream trapped within her chest as she stumbled from the bed, her legs weak and trembling.
"No… No… NO!"
She tore through the room, her voice raw and breaking with every cry.
"MY BABY! WHERE IS MY BABY?!"
Damian burst into the room, his gun already drawn.
The moment his eyes met the empty crib, his face turned to stone.
Without a word, he pulled out his phone.
A single message appeared on the locked screen.
"The game isn't over, Queen. If you want your son back… come alone. — L"