Marco's ultimatum hung in the air like a blade—accept his terms or face oblivion. Danielle's response was ice: she wanted him dead, wanted him to pay for every stolen moment, every broken promise. But Marco only laughed, intoxicated by his own power, his billion-fold advantage over the woman who once meant everything. He taunted her mercilessly, daring her to chase him, wondering if beneath all that hatred, love still flickered in her heart. Her fury was a wildfire. She'd lost her children to his cruelty, and now she swore vengeance—this time, she'd finish what she started. Marco's rage exploded in response. Those were his children too, torn from him by her vindictive hands. She knew how much he loved them, and she'd weaponized that love against him, keeping them locked away like treasures in a prison. His fury consumed him until Mike intervened, dragging him behind the shadows, forcing a sedative through his veins that brought instant silence. When the fog cleared, Marco's voice was steady once more, laced with dangerous certainty. He issued his final command to the couple: "I expect you both. Don't be late." The threat was unmistakable. This wasn't over—it was only beginning.