"I'm going to kill her!"
That has been the only thought pounding in his head the moment Jake told him she was married. The idea of another man touching what belongs to him—Antonio Blackheart—was enough to drive him mad.
At first, Antonio didn't want to conclude that it was all her fault. He tried to convince himself that maybe she had been forced, maybe she had no choice. But the moment he realized that Arianna had moved on—moved on with her life as if everything they shared meant nothing—his fury ignited like wildfire.
Arianna breathes for him and him alone. And if he can't have her, then no one—no one—will.
But just as he was about to end it all, just as his finger tightened on the trigger aimed at the bastard's child, Arianna's next words froze him.
"He's your son!" Arianna screamed.
That sentence slashed through the haze of rage, pulling Antonio's attention. He turned sharply toward her, eyes narrowed, wondering if she was bluffing, trying to save the child by claiming something ridiculous.
But when he looked down at the baby, his breath caught.
The child…
The boy had his eyes.
Though the child had Arianna's striking red hair, every other detail was his. The nose. The ears. The sharp structure of the face. Everything screamed Antonio Blackheart reborn.
It was like staring at a ghost of his own childhood.
Was this not incredible?
This was the reason she ran. Because she was carrying his baby.
Clearly, his father had no idea. Christopher Blackheart wouldn't have lifted a finger to help her escape if he had known she was carrying his grandson.
"I'm a father?" Antonio whispered to himself, the words tasting strange, unfamiliar.
He wasn't denying it. He didn't need a DNA test. The proof was staring back at him with his very own eyes. But still—shock rattled him.
Then anger followed.
How wicked. How heartless Arianna had been. To keep his child from him. To make him seem like a deadbeat father—just like his own father had done to him and his poor mother. Antonio's lips curled as he let out a frustrated sigh. History had repeated itself. And Arianna had made him into the very thing he despised.
"You can't think of killing your own child, Antonio," Arianna said, breaking into his storm of thoughts. Her voice was trembling, but her words carried strength.
Antonio glared at her, his grip on the gun tightening. But slowly, he lowered it.
The baby chuckled—a soft, innocent laugh that made Antonio's hard expression break. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at the boy.
Blood truly was thicker than water. His fate had changed the moment he confirmed the child was his. And not the son of that dimwit Arianna married.
But that's fine. She won't be married for long.
"Aren't you a cute little one? You already know who your father is," Antonio murmured proudly, his grin dark and dangerous.
His son.
That had a nice ring to it.
"How old is he?" Antonio asked, eyes never leaving the boy.
Arianna stood frozen, fear etched all over her face. She didn't like this. She didn't like the shift in power. But what she thought didn't matter. Antonio would never hurt his son. The boy would never lack anything—not while he was alive. And anyone who tried to harm him would face Antonio's wrath. Even his own mother.
"He turned six months old a few weeks ago," Arianna said, her voice shaking. "Can I have him now, please?" She tried to step forward, but one of Antonio's guards yanked her back, stopping her several feet away.
"Antonio, I need to feed him…" she tried again, desperately searching for an excuse to separate Liam from his dangerous father.
Her mind was spinning. She didn't know what Antonio was thinking. Whatever it was, she needed Liam out of harm's way.
What if Antonio decided to kill her?
The thought sent chills down her spine. If she died, Liam would be left alone in this cruel world. She couldn't let that happen.
"Pack your bags. We're leaving," Antonio interrupted sharply, not even bothering to listen.
"What?" Arianna's eyes widened in horror.
She couldn't go back. No, she wouldn't. Returning to his house, his life, would be like walking willingly back into hell. She had escaped once—barely. With Liam now in the picture, there was no second escape.
"I see you've grown some wings in these past few months," Antonio sneered. "But don't worry. I'll fix everything back to the way it was."
"Give me back my son!" Arianna screamed. She lunged at him, but Antonio struck her across the face with the butt of his gun.
She hit the floor hard, crying out in pain as blood pooled at the corner of her lips. Liam wailed, his cries piercing the air.
"It's okay," Antonio cooed, ignoring Arianna's pain as he cradled the boy. "Your mother was just trying to play smart. I love you, son."
Love.
The word made Arianna sob harder.
Antonio didn't know the meaning of love. He was a monster. A man incapable of empathy. His therapists had said so, his psychiatrists had confirmed it. He was dangerous. Broken. A man not right in the head.
She had prayed from the moment Liam was born that he wouldn't turn out like his father. But heaven had turned its face away.
Coughing through the blood on her lips, Arianna crawled forward, dropping to her knees in front of him.
"Please," she begged, her voice cracking. "I can't go back there. Can't you just leave me and my son alone? We'll disappear. You'll never see us again. Please, Antonio… let us go."
Antonio scoffed. Clearly, these past few months had made her forget who she was talking to. And he was more than willing to remind her.
"If you truly want to save that bastard you married," he spat bitterly, "as well as your son, then listen to me. We both know you have no say in anything right now."
He snapped his fingers. Instantly, one of his guards returned carrying a gallon of gasoline.
Arianna's eyes widened. "W… what are you doing?"
She staggered to her feet, panic flooding her chest as she realized what was about to happen.
"Stop it! Please!" she screamed, running toward the men as they began dousing the house in gasoline. Her cries went unheard.
Liam's screams rose to match hers, but Antonio held him firmly, not letting Arianna anywhere near.
"It's okay, little lion," Antonio whispered to his son. "Your father has you now. That's all that matters."
Arianna clawed at the guards, her voice raw from screaming. "Andrew! Where's Andrew?!"
Her pleas fell to nothing as flames erupted, swallowing the house she had built with Andrew, burning every memory, every shred of her new life into ash.
Antonio didn't care. He never had. Her pain meant nothing to him. What mattered was that she had run, and now she was back where she belonged. He had always been selfish. He always would be.
What Antonio Blackheart wanted, he got.
He hadn't planned on a child. He had always wanted her love and attention undivided, all for him alone. But now, looking down at his son, he was willing to make an exception.
A family.
That was what he wanted. And this time, she would wish she had never run in the first place.
"Let's go home, shall we?" Antonio said coldly to his driver as he slid into the backseat of his Audi.
He cradled Liam proudly, while Arianna was shoved in beside him, her body shaking from both fear and despair.
The car pulled away, leaving the flames behind.
Antonio Blackheart couldn't wait to show the world that he was a father.