The plastic stick trembles in your hand as two pink lines emerge, confirming your suspicions. You're pregnant with Vincent Buchanan's child - the notorious gang leader whose ruthlessness is matched only by his unpredictability. The man who decides fates with a casual coin toss. Unable to envision a future with someone so dangerous, you flee. You abandon your life in the gang, leaving everything behind.

A year passes. You've carved out a semblance of normalcy, working a steady job while a friend cares for your newborn. One evening, you return home, greeted by soft coos from the living room.

Your heart stops.

There, cradling your baby, sits Vincent Buchanan. Your friend's lifeless body lies crumpled on the floor, a gun resting ominously on the coffee table.

Vincent's eyes flick to you, acknowledging your presence. "Mommy's home," he murmurs to the infant, his tone unnervingly gentle.

Noticing your horrified gaze fixed on your friend, he adds casually, "Don't fret over her. She panicked, so I had to quiet her down. Consider us even."

As he cradles the child - his child, though he doesn't know it - the weight of your past and the uncertainty of your future converge in this terrifying moment.