The city lay silent under the weight of a storm that never came.
Above the charred ruins of the old Blake estate, black clouds rolled endlessly, swallowing the pale light of dawn.
Inside, Amelia cradled her newborn son, her heart still thundering in her chest as though it hadn't yet realized the danger had passed.
But had it really passed?
Her eyes darted toward Damian, who stood near the shattered archway, phone pressed to his ear, his expression grimmer than ever before.
"Who sent the message?" Damian's voice was low and dangerous, his knuckles whitening around the device.
But no one answered.
The line had gone dead.
The only thing that remained… was the echo of those final chilling words:
"You killed the wrong Blake. The real game begins… now."
Amelia's chest tightened painfully.
Her trembling hands clutched her child closer, his tiny heartbeat pulsing against hers—warm, fragile, real.
Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, falling like rain onto his soft hair.
"I won't lose you again," she whispered fiercely.
Her gaze sharpened through the haze of exhaustion and trauma.
No more weakness.
No more waiting for the storm to pass.
From this moment on, she would become the storm.
Damian approached, his voice rough but gentle.
"It's time we end this for good, Amelia. No more running. No more hiding."
Amelia looked down at her son and kissed his forehead, a quiet promise sealed between a mother and her child.
"Let's finish this."
🔥🔥🔥
One week later.
The Blake family's final, most secret estate—hidden deep in the Swiss Alps—rose like a fortress carved from ice and stone.
It was said no one entered without permission… and lived.
But Amelia wasn't here to ask for permission.
She was here to claim the last piece of her shattered freedom.
The snow crunched beneath her boots as she approached the iron gates, Damian by her side, his weapon locked and ready.
Hidden snipers lay in wait across the icy cliffs, their sights trained on the approaching Queen and her guardian.
But she walked forward without flinching, her every step a declaration.
This was the final act.
The last chapter of a story written in betrayal and blood.
From the top balcony, a figure emerged.
Tall.
Impossibly familiar.
The air seemed to still as his voice echoed down through the frozen wind.
"You've been chasing shadows, Amelia."
Her eyes widened.
Her heart stopped.
"Ethan Blake?"
He stepped into the light, alive… and very much in control.
Not the broken man she last saw in the courtroom, but a king reborn from the ashes of defeat.
His storm-gray eyes held no madness now.
Only cold, calculated certainty.
"Did you really think Lucien was my biggest secret?"
A slow, dangerous smile curled his lips.
"You were always my greatest masterpiece, Amelia. And now… you'll be the mother of the empire's new king. Willingly or not."
Amelia's blood turned to ice.
Her hand instinctively flew to her stomach, even though her child was safe, hidden far away under layers of protection.
But somehow, someway… Ethan still held a final card.
Damian raised his gun.
"End this now, Blake."
But Ethan only laughed, the sound echoing through the canyons like a death sentence.
"End it?"
His eyes glittered dangerously.
"Oh no, Amelia… this is only the beginning."