Silence reigned in the Blake throne room.
Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that comes just before the sky rips open.
Amelia knelt in front of the boy—the son she never knew existed—and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause.
His small hand, warm and trembling, curled around hers.
Ethan's breath caught.
His face, once carved from stone, now cracked—his composure shattered like crystal dropped on marble.
"I choose my own future, Father. And it begins… without you."
The words hung in the air like smoke after gunfire.
Damian's hand moved subtly toward his weapon.
Ethan's eyes burned with disbelief.
Amelia felt the storm stirring within her—not fear, not anger—
But power.
A mother's power.
A queen's fury.
Ethan stepped down from the obsidian dais, his footsteps echoing like the heartbeat of a dying empire.
He stopped mere feet away from the boy.
"You're confused," he said, his voice low, almost gentle.
"You're just a child. You don't understand what legacy means."
The boy tilted his head.
"Legacy? You mean the pain? The lies? The people you hurt just to wear a crown made of ash?"
Ethan flinched.
For the first time.
Like the words had physically hit him.
Amelia rose to her feet, placing herself between Ethan and the boy.
"He sees it clearer than any of us ever did, Ethan."
"You built this empire on fear. I'm going to burn it down with truth."
Thunder cracked overhead.
The storm outside finally broke, lightning slashing across the sky like divine judgment.
And just then—
The massive iron doors of the fortress burst open.
Blake family loyalists stormed in, weapons drawn.
Damian stepped in front of Amelia and the boy.
"Go," he said.
"I'll hold them off."
Amelia's eyes met his, a thousand words exchanged in a single breath.
She grabbed her son's hand and ran.
Down the spiral stairs.
Through the ancient corridors.
Every heartbeat a countdown to something irreversible.
Behind them, gunfire.
Shouts.
Walls cracking from the weight of betrayal and collapsing loyalties.
Ethan stood on his throne platform, watching it all burn with a strange look on his face—something between madness… and peace.
As Amelia and her son reached the underground tunnel hidden beneath the fortress library, she finally allowed herself to breathe.
Her child was safe.
Damian was buying them time.
But nothing… was truly over.
Her son looked up at her, wide-eyed.
"Was he always like that?"
Her voice broke.
"No. Once, I loved him. Once… he saved me. Before he became the thing we had to escape from."
They emerged into the snow-covered clearing behind the mountain.
A helicopter waited—Damian had planned for every outcome.
As they took off, Amelia stared down at the fortress collapsing into flames.
Blake.
Dead.
But his shadow… still lingered.
Inside the vault of the burning fortress, a hidden chamber remained untouched.
And inside it…
Another cradle.
Another heir.
One Amelia never knew about.*