Blake POV:

Chyna' s face lit up, a predatory glee flashing in her eyes. "Oh, wonderful! So, she's finally out of the picture? That's fantastic news, Blake! Now we can finally make things official. The guru always said I was your true destined wife." She clapped her hands together, a sound normally sweet, now grating on my raw nerves. "We can announce our engagement! And I can officially become the boys' mother! The Hodge matriarch!"

Her words, once so alluring, now felt like gravel grinding in my soul. Matriarch. Destined wife. The titles, the ambition, clawed at me. My mind, still reeling from my mother' s brutal honesty, saw Chyna' s calculated joy as grotesque, a stark contrast to Amelia' s quiet dignity, even in her fury.

"No," I said, the word a flat, unexpected refusal.

Chyna's smile faltered, freezing on her face. Her eyes widened, a flicker of confusion, then annoyance, replacing the triumph. "No? What do you mean, 'no,' Blake?"

I pulled my hand away from her insistent grasp. "Amelia is my wife. She always will be. In my heart, she is the mother of my children, the true matriarch of my household." The words, spoken aloud, were a revelation even to me. They were true. Terribly, painfully true.

Chyna stared, utterly stunned. "But... but the guru said... and the divorce papers..."

"The guru was wrong," I interrupted, my voice firm, resolute. "And the divorce papers... they are a mistake I intend to rectify." My decision hardened. "The ceremony, the public announcement, everything is on hold indefinitely. Until Amelia returns. I will wait for her."

Chyna gasped, her jaw dropping. "Wait for her? Blake, she's gone! She hates you! I'm here! I'm the mother of your sons! The prophecy is fulfilled through me!" She gestured wildly to herself, then to the nursery where the twins lay sleeping.

I shook my head, my mind suddenly clear, brutally clear. In the cruel light of my mother' s indictment, the guru' s vague pronouncements twisted and warped. He had spoken of a spirit of the earth, of resilience, of a gentle heart. He had never said it had to be Chyna. Amelia, my Amelia, had embodied all of those things. Her love for my garden, her quiet strength, her unwavering devotion-she was the true embodiment of his prophecies. I had been so blind, so arrogant, so consumed by the superficial. I had chased a phantom, while the true treasure was right beside me.

My heart, a frozen block for so long, began to thaw, an agonizing thaw that brought with it a flood of regret. I loved Amelia. I didn't want to admit it, not to myself, not to anyone. I had convinced myself it was gratitude, convenience, a comfortable arrangement. But seeing her fury, feeling her contempt, hearing her raw pain-it had torn through my carefully constructed defenses. She was everything. And I had destroyed her.

I had never truly considered a life without her. Even through my cruel manipulations, my deliberate lies, I had subconsciously believed she would always be there, a constant, gentle presence. The thought of her truly gone, legally severed, emotionally detached, was a new, terrifying abyss.

"She's not coming back, Blake!" Chyna shrieked, her voice rising hysterically. "She's a vindictive bitch! She probably took everything she could get her hands on! She burned your things out of spite!"

"No," I said, my voice soft, almost a whisper. "She burned her own things. Her roses. Her memories. She burned us." The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. She wasn't spiteful. She was heartbroken. And I was the cause.

Chyna, seeing her carefully laid plans unraveling, let out a frustrated scream and swept her arm across the nearby coffee table, sending a vase of flowers and a stack of books crashing to the floor. "She's a poison! She'll ruin you, Blake! Just like she tried to ruin my babies!"

Her hysterics were punctuated by the sudden, sharp cry of one of the twins from the nursery. Orion. Chyna, her face contorted in a mask of pure rage, turned towards the sound, her eyes wild. "Quiet, you little brat!" she shrieked, stomping towards the nursery.

I didn't see what happened next, only heard the increasing wails of the baby, and Chyna's muffled curses. My mind was consumed by a different kind of pain, a deeper, more profound regret.

I stumbled out of the mansion, blindly getting into my car. I drove, aimless, the city a blur, until I found myself in front of a small, unassuming baby store in a quiet suburban strip mall. The brightly lit windows displayed tiny outfits, colorful rattles, and plush toys. A young couple stood inside, gazing at a tiny pair of booties, their faces alight with an innocent joy.

A sudden, sharp pang, a sensation utterly new to me, twisted my insides. It was regret. Pure, unadulterated regret. I had seen such joy once, in Amelia's eyes, when she spoke of our future children. I had seen her trace patterns on her belly, whispering names, names like Phoenix and Orion.

A horrifying memory, sharp and vivid, pierced through the fog of my denial. The guru's commands, my cold, deliberate actions to ensure the "negative energies" of Amelia's pregnancies were "cleansed." Four times. Four times, I had, with cold calculation, orchestrated the termination of her hopes, her dreams, her children. Four times, I had watched her face crumple in despair, her body wracked with pain, her spirit slowly dying. I had dismissed it as weakness, as her inability to carry the "destined" heirs.

Now, standing here, watching the innocent joy of strangers, the full weight of my monstrous deeds crashed down on me. I had killed my own children. I had shattered Amelia's heart, not once, but four agonizing times. Her tears, her silent pleas, her broken expressions-they all flooded back, each one a fresh stab to my soul.

And for what? For a manipulative guru? For an opportunistic woman who only saw my wealth and power? For a twisted prophecy that I now realized I had gravely misapplied? I had convinced myself I loved Chyna, that she was my destiny. But it was a shallow, empty thing compared to the deep, quiet love Amelia had offered, a love I had so casually, so cruelly, discarded.

The taste of regret was bitter, sickening. It was a new kind of pain, one that burrowed deep into my bones, a constant, gnawing ache that would never truly heal. I had just begun to understand what I had truly lost.

Blake POV:

The bitter taste of regret lingered on my tongue, a constant, nauseating reminder of my monstrous deeds. My empire, my legacy, my perfect life-all shattered by my own hand. The phone in my pocket buzzed, jolting me from my self-flagellation. It was Chyna. She was crying, hysterical.

"Blake! You have to come home! Orion, he's... he's choking! He can't breathe!"

My heart seized, a sudden, primal fear overriding all other emotions. My son. My only son, the one for whom I had sacrificed so much. I jammed the phone back into my pocket and sped home, ignoring all traffic laws, my mind a blur of terror.

I found Orion blue in the face, struggling for breath, Chyna sobbing incoherently beside him. Without a moment' s hesitation, I scooped him up, performing the Heimlich maneuver instinctively, then raced him to the emergency room.

Hours later, the doctors confirmed Orion was stable, a piece of a toy lodged in his throat. Chyna, her face streaked with tears, collapsed into my arms, sobbing. "Oh, Blake, I was so scared! I don't know what I would do without you!"

Her voice, usually so comforting, now grated on my nerves. I patted her back, my gaze fixed on Orion, who was now sleeping peacefully in his crib. I felt a profound sense of relief, but also a simmering resentment towards Chyna. Why was she so helpless? Why hadn't she known what to do?

Just then, my phone buzzed again. It was Marcus. "Sir, I have an update on the investigation into Ms. Hatfield's past."

My blood ran cold. The thought, unbidden, had already begun to form in my mind: Could Chyna have been lying about everything? Had she orchestrated other "accidents"?

"What is it, Marcus?" I demanded, my voice tight.

"Sir, we ran a more thorough background check, as you requested. It appears Ms. Hatfield has a history of... embellishment. Her claims of being the guru's 'destined partner' are entirely fabricated. She paid him a substantial sum to endorse her, to create a false prophecy. And the twins, sir... a paternity test conducted discreetly reveals that neither of the boys is yours."

The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly on the sterile hospital floor. The words echoed in my head, a deafening roar. Not yours. Fabricated prophecy. Paid him. My world, already fractured, imploded entirely.

Chyna, who had been listening, her face draining of color, stammered, "Blake, I... I can explain! It was for us! For our future! I just wanted to give you what you deserved!"

I stared at her, my vision blurring with a red haze of rage. Explain? Explain that she had lied about everything? That my entire life, my every monstrous action, had been based on a perverse lie? That the children I had sacrificed Amelia for were not even my own?

I pushed her away, a cold disgust churning in my gut. "Get out," I snarled, my voice low and dangerous. "Get out of my sight. Don't let me ever see you again."

Chyna, sensing the absolute finality in my tone, stammered a few more pathetic excuses, then fled, leaving me alone in the silent, sterile room. My mind, now stripped bare of all illusions, began to frantically piece together the horrifying truth. The miscarriages. Amelia's garden. The spiritual cleansing. Had Chyna orchestrated it all? Had she driven Amelia away, knowing I would be distracted by the "destined" children? The thought was a sickening realization, tearing at my soul.

I stumbled out of the hospital, the fresh air doing nothing to clear the suffocating fog in my mind. I called Marcus. "Find Chyna. Confine her. And then, find Amelia. Spare no expense. Bring her back. I need to talk to her." I needed to beg for forgiveness. To explain. To atone for my unforgivable sins.

The days that followed were an agonizing blur. My entire network, my vast resources, were mobilized. Private investigators, international search agencies, every contact I possessed-all searching for Amelia. But she had vanished without a trace, a ghost in the wind. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole.

My office, once a symbol of my power, became a cage of despair. I paced constantly, barking orders, throwing things, my rage and frustration spiraling out of control. My subordinates, terrified, scattered at my approach.

Then, a chilling thought emerged from the chaos. Amelia hadn't just disappeared. She had been helped. Someone, somewhere, had intentionally hidden her from me.

I immediately knew who. My mother. Kyleigh.

I returned to her estate, the grandeur of it now mocking my brokenness. She was in her study, as serene as ever, a book in her hand.

"You helped her, didn't you?" I demanded, my voice hoarse. "You hid her."

Kyleigh closed her book, her gaze calm, unwavering. "Yes, Blake. I did. She needed protection. From you."

"But why?" I cried, the desperation in my voice raw. "She's my wife! I need her! I've made a mistake! I need to apologize, to make things right!"

"Mistake?" Kyleigh's voice was sharp, a cutting blade. "You call orchestrating her miscarriages a 'mistake,' Blake? You call destroying her garden, subjecting her to a barbaric ritual, and leaving her for dead a 'mistake'? You call basing your entire life on a fabricated prophecy and raising another man's children a 'mistake'? You destroyed her, Blake. Completely. And you almost destroyed yourself in the process."

Her words, though harsh, were a painful truth. My chest tightened, a suffocating pressure. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, a wave of nausea washing over me. The pain was unbearable, a physical manifestation of my profound guilt.

Kyleigh watched me, her gaze softening slightly. "She's safe, Blake. Far away. Somewhere you'll never find her. She deserves peace. And you, my son, deserve to face the consequences of your actions." She paused, her voice hardening again. "Your actions have brought scandal to our family, Blake. The truth about Chyna, about the paternity of her children, is about to break. Our company, our legacy, everything you so desperately sought to protect, is on the brink of ruin."

My mind went blank. Scandal. Ruin. The words echoed in my head, a terrifying prophecy of my own.

"I am temporarily suspending you from all corporate duties," Kyleigh continued, her voice firm. "You will remain at the estate for now. And understand this, Blake. You will not pursue Amelia. Ever again. She is free. And you have lost her, completely and irrevocably."