The words struck Dorrent like a physical blow, detonating inside his skull with a force that made his vision briefly go pitch black. His breath caught in his chest, his frame shuddering as a cold dread flooded his veins. His silver eyes dilated, staring at his mother in shock.

No. It can’t be true.

The room seemed to spin around him, the air suddenly growing so thick and suffocating he could barely draw it into his lungs. The heavy silence of the study pressed against his eardrums, but inside his head, a memory was tearing its way out of the dark, forgotten corners of his mind.

Instantly, his brain flashed back to that storm-ridden night in Jannah’s bedroom—the night he had unearthed her lethal poisons and held her by the throat as she choked on her own venom. He recalled with terrifying clarity the exact way she had looked at him. He remembered the raw, venomous fire burning in her dark eyes, the tears of agony and hatred pouring down her cheeks, and the chilling rasp of her voice: I hate you... I hate you so bad, Dorrent Grefo. You are a monster!

At the time, he had been too blinded by his own rage to understand the depth of her words. He had dismissed it as the desperate lashing out of a trapped slum rat. But now, the memory mutilated his pride. The puzzle pieces didn’t just fit—they locked together with a horrific, bloody click.

"It can’t be true," Dorrent muttered, his voice dropping into a broken whisper. He shook his head, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the desk so hard the wood groaned. "It can’t be true..."

He lifted his gaze, his silver eyes flashing with a desperate denial as he glared at his mother. "You’re lying to me, Mother! You are weaving a sickening, pathetic fabrication just to force me to let go of Jannah! You want me to abandon her so I can fulfill your precious Moscow alliance and marry Joanne! It is completely impossible!"

Himelda did not flinch under his roaring denial. Instead, her face hardened into a look of profound, chilling pity. She stood perfectly still, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at her unraveling son.

"Believe whatever comforting lies you need to tell your pathetic conscience, Dorrent," Himelda delivered ruthlessly, her voice cutting through his panic like a scalpel. "But deep down, your inner self knows the reality. You know damn well that nine years ago, you underwent the black cycle rut. You were a monster, completely consumed by an unstable, S-tier primal madness that your body couldn’t control."

She took a slow, deliberate step toward him, he eyes locking onto his shaking form. "You know exactly what you did during those three days of absolute blackout, Dorrent. You broke free of the estate handlers, descended into the lower sectors, and completely destroyed and killed a number of innocent people in the 3rd Street slums. The family handlers had to deploy an entire tactical containment unit just to drag your blood-soaked body back to this mansion. And Jannah’s parents... they just happened to be among the pathetic casualties you slaughtered in your mindless frenzy."

Dorrent’s voice completely died in his throat. He went entirely silent, his jaw locking so tight a sharp vein pulsed against his temple.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find a single word to hurl back at her, because the dark reality of the black cycle rut was a permanent scar on his past. He remembered waking up nine years ago in a medical containment cell, his hands covered in deep lacerations, his mind completely wiped of the last seventy-two hours, and his father standing over him, coldly telling him that the "damages in the slums" had been financially taken care of. He had known he killed people during that primal madness—but how it had actually come about, whose lives he had taken, and what families he had shattered, he had absolutely no idea. Until this very moment.

Shock settled into his chest. The image of Jannah—fragile, delicate, and fiercely stubborn—flashed before his eyes. He realized now that the little herbalist hadn’t just been treating his unhealed system; she had been living under the roof of the executioner who destroyed her entire universe. She had harbored a vicious, cold-blooded hatred for him from the very moment he stepped out of the car on 3rd Street.

And as the brutal truth settled into his mind, an unexpected realization washed over him: I don’t blame her. If it’s the truth.

For the first time in his arrogant, dominant life, Dorrent felt the crushing weight of his own monstrous nature. She had every single right to detest him. She had every right to cultivate lethal toxins specifically meant to burn his veins out. He was the monster from her nightmares.

But then, a spark of his inherent, stubborn skepticism flared back to life through the fog of his guilt. His eyes narrowed as he analyzed his mother’s rigid posture. What if she was playing the ultimate psychological game? What if Himelda was only weaponizing a tragic coincidence from his past, weaving Jannah’s parents into his old blackout just to manipulate his guilt and force him to cast the girl out into the streets? There was no forensic evidence sitting on this desk. There was no proof that his hands had torn her family apart.

Dorrent straightened his spine, his winter-frost pheromones stabilizing into determination. He looked into his mother’s eyes, his voice returning with a terrifyingly quiet authority.

"I will have to find out the truth myself, Mother," Dorrent stated flatly, his chest expanding with a slow breath. "I will unearth the old sector grid records from nine years ago. I will find out whether it is a historical fact that I killed them, or if you are just sitting across from me bluffing to save your corporate wedding."

He paused, a light flaring within his silver eyes—a light that made Himelda’s breath hitch in her throat.

"And let me tell you this," Dorrent continued, his voice dropping into an intense, unshakeable vow. "If it turns out to be the truth... if I am the monster who killed her parents, I am not throwing her away. I will do the exact opposite. I will spend every single remaining day of my life right by Jannah’s side. I will lock her to my body, and I will use every ounce of my wealth, my power, and my soul trying to atone for my deeds."

A smirk touched his lips, his possessive alpha nature completely warping his guilt into a lifetime commitment. "I will heal her wounds. I will force her to look at me, I will make her love me, and we will live happily together. I will never let her leave."

Himelda stared at her son in jaw-dropping astonishment. Her eyes widened in horror and disbelief, her face turning pale as she looked at the towering Alpha as if he had entirely lost his sanity.

"Are you completely out of your mind, Dorrent?!" Himelda gasped out, her voice shaking with dread. "You think you can just buy her forgiveness with your billions?! Let me tell you the reality of a woman’s psychology, you foolish boy! Even if you married her in the grandest cathedral in the upper district, even if you gave her everything this world has to offer, she would never, ever fall for you! And because of that, you will never have those Enigma children that the two of you want!"

She lunged forward, slamming her hands against his chest, her voice rising into a frantic, desperate shriek. "A woman from that bloodline hates with all her heart, Dorrent! It is woven into their very DNA! What they can never do is fall in love with an enemy—especially a monstrous enemy like you who tore her family to pieces! She will look at your face every morning and see nothing but the blood of her mother and father!"

Dorrent didn’t flinch. He slowly reached down, his hands gently but unyieldingly wrapping around his mother’s wrists, pulling her hands off his chest with an unbending strength.

He leaned down, his face just inches from hers, his eyes flashing with a chilling triumph that signaled an obsession from which there was no return.

"Then I’ll just have to give it a try, Mother," Dorrent whispered into the quiet room.