The courtroom victory was still fresh in everyone's minds.
Outside, cameras flashed wildly as Amelia stepped into the blinding sunlight, the headlines practically writing themselves—
"Queen of Ice Crushes the Blake Empire!"
Yet under that perfect, composed exterior, Amelia's heart was far from calm.
Each step she took felt heavier, as if the very air had thickened, pressing against her ribs like an unseen force trying to crush her newfound freedom.
Damian appeared at her side, his tall figure a silent wall of protection.
His eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and calculating.
"Something's wrong," he muttered, his jaw clenched tight.
Before Amelia could respond, the sea of journalists parted—unnaturally, like a wave recoiling from a hidden predator.
A man in a dark hooded jacket stood at the center of the clearing, his face obscured, his hands hidden deep in his pockets.
Time seemed to slow.
Amelia's breath caught.
Her instincts screamed at her to run.
But her feet… refused to move.
The man took a step forward.
Then another.
And then—
With a swift motion, something flashed silver in his hand.
A knife.
Damian reacted instantly, stepping in front of Amelia, his voice a low, deadly snarl.
"Get back!"
The guards lunged, but before the man could reach Amelia, he was tackled to the ground.
The knife clattered across the marble steps, spinning in slow, agonizing circles before coming to a complete stop right at Amelia's feet.
Her hands flew to her stomach, her heart hammering so violently it drowned out every sound.
My baby…
As the attacker was dragged away, his hood fell back—
And Amelia's world tilted again.
It wasn't just any man.
It was someone she knew.
Adrian Hale's right-hand man—Nathan Cole.
Damian wrapped a protective arm around her trembling shoulders, his voice harsh and urgent.
"This isn't over, Amelia. This is just the beginning."