Geneva Cathedral – Timer: 00:00:01
The gunshot cracked through the ancient stones like the voice of God.
Selina fell forward, her eyes wide with disbelief as her body shielded her son instinctively. Blood bloomed beneath her shoulder, warm and heavy.
But the explosion never came.
Because Damian had shot the detonator from X's hand.
It wasn't fate that saved them. It was love. It was trust. It was the promise they had made in silence over a thousand near-deaths: "I'd bleed for you. Again and again."
The silence after the shot was deafening, like standing in the eye of a hurricane while the rest of the world fell apart around them.
X staggered back, eyes wide.
His hand trembling.
"You shot me… for her?" he whispered to Damian, eyes filled not with hatred—but heartbreak.
Damian's voice was cold. "No. I shot you for what you did to our son."
X sank to his knees as sirens approached from outside.
Scene Switch – Three Months Later
Global Reconstruction Conference – New York
The empire was rebuilding. Not through war or wealth—but through unity.
Selina stood before the world, a white blazer over her scars, her hand resting on her son's shoulder, Damian standing beside her as her equal, not her savior.
Her eyes no longer held fire—they held peace.
But when she smiled, there was still steel beneath.
This was what she bled for. Not a title. Not a throne. But a world where no woman had to beg to be heard, where no child had to grow up in fear.
Her voice cut through the assembly like a blade wrapped in silk—beautiful, but impossible to ignore.
"The crown doesn't belong to kings or queens," she said, "It belongs to those who never stopped fighting for others—no matter the cost."
Applause thundered. But her gaze drifted to the sky.
Somewhere out there, shadows still lingered.
That night, in her private study, Selina opened a sealed envelope.
Inside—an old photograph.
Her, X, and a third child.
On the back, a handwritten note:
"The third piece of the game is coming. Prepare."
Her hand trembled.
She whispered: "It's not over."