The car slowed to a halt at the gates of Castillo de Oro, a mansion so opulent it shimmered under the low light like something out of a dream. But for her, it felt more like a golden cage, silent and suffocating. A gilded prison where power breathed through the walls and shadows held secrets. It was here, behind carved doors and marble halls, that Leonard waited. Hidden from the world, but now too exposed in his fury.

He hadn’t moved. Not even turned his head, but he knew. The distinct click of heels echoed across the cold marble, sharp and slow like a countdown. The soft, familiar scent of roses trailed after her — once calming to him, once capable of grounding the storm inside his chest. But not tonight. Not after what she had planned.

His fingers twitched around the rim of the glass, whiskey half-forgotten in his hand. The alcohol did nothing. The burn down his throat hadn't even scratched the surface of the fire inside him. For the first time since their marriage, it wasn’t war or betrayal from outside that made his vision blur with rage. It was her.

“Perhaps I have spoiled you too much, mi reina,” Leonard said coolly, gesturing her closer with a slow tilt of his hand. The air had shifted, no longer warm but sharp and cold. It crept over the floor like a warning. “I think it's time I remind you of the lessons you’ve clearly forgotten.” This was not how he ever imagined discovering the truth — that she was carrying his child.

Their child.

She had made plans to erase that child from existence without ever telling him. The woman he trusted most had kept a secret that burned through his chest like betrayal made flesh. How dare she. How dare she try to remove what was his — his heir, his bloodline, without a word?

Silence hung between them now. Heavy. Tense. It only stoked the fire in his chest. His grip tightened instinctively around the glass until it cracked — then shattered — under the pressure of his fury. Shards dug into his skin, drawing blood, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes, sharp as steel and impossibly blue, never left her face. There was pain in her expression too. Maybe even guilt. But he didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. How could she even think of erasing something that was part of both of them?

“You will never try to do that again,” he said, low and lethal, stepping forward with a calmness that frightened more than rage ever could. His hand lifted, firm fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“You. Will. Never. Do. That. Again.” Each word carved into the air like a blade. “Are we clear?”