Colton stared at her, as if trying to process the words. For a moment, it didn't register.
It couldn't be real.
He looked at her flat stomach, back to her eyes, and then at Ross's smug expression.
Then it hit.
And it hit hard.
"Fuck you!" he roared, his voice echoing through the house.
His face twisted with pure rage as he lunged toward the nearby drawer, yanked it open, and grabbed the pistol he kept inside for emergencies.
His hands trembled—not from fear, but from fury—as he turned back, raising the gun.
His eyes locked on Ross. His vision tunneled.
But before he could pull the trigger—
A blur of motion.
A crushing force.
"Bang!" Ross's fist slammed into his face with brutal precision, catching him squarely between the eyes.
Pain exploded in Colton's skull. His grip on the gun loosened. His knees buckled.
"Sleep tight, princess." Ross said mockingly, watching as Colton collapsed to the floor like a rag doll.
Silence returned.
