"She woke up on an island—isolated, bound, and declared dead to the world.
But Aurielle isn't done fighting.
Not when her son still needs her.
Not when her husband still believes she's gone."
I woke to cold air brushing against my skin.
Not the basement cold from before.
This was sharper. Saltier. The kind of cold that clung to your clothes and slipped through your bones. When I opened my eyes, the ceiling above me looked old, cracked in some places, and the light bulb flickered like it had been dying for years.
My wrists ached.
Not metal cuffs this time—rope. Rough, coarse rope that had burned my skin red.
I tried to move and the chair scraped the floor beneath me. Not loudly enough for anyone to hear… but enough to remind me I wasn't dreaming.
Where was I?
I turned my head slowly, ignoring the pounding in my skull. That's when I heard it.
Waves.
Not loudly—just the distant hush of water pulling back and pushing forward, like something breathing beyond the walls.
A beach?
A coastline?
My heart began to pound for a different reason now. Wherever Jason had taken me… it wasn't anywhere familiar.
The window across the room was small and dirty, but dark sky leaked through it. Nighttime. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? A full day?
My throat felt clogged, dry enough to hurt when I swallowed.
I forced my voice out anyway.
"H-hello? Can someone hear me? Please—somebody?"
My voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
A few seconds later, the door opened with a slow creak.
Jason walked in.
My stomach dropped.
He looked almost casual—hair pushed back, T-shirt, jeans—like he hadn't just destroyed my entire life. He carried a glass of water in one hand and brought it to my lips as if we were in some normal conversation.
"You're finally awake, Aurielle," he said.
I glared at him, but my mouth moved toward the water instinctively. I hated that I needed it. I hated that I even accepted a sip, but the dryness in my throat was burning.
I drank just enough to speak.
"What do you want from me?" My voice was hoarse but steady. "Jason, where is my son?"
He rolled his eyes, annoyed as if I were the one being unreasonable.
"I told you, didn't I? I want you. That's all."
"You can't have me," I snapped. "I'm married. I have a family. I—"
The slap came so fast I didn't see his hand move.
My head snapped to the side, the sting flooding my cheek instantly. My breath caught in my throat. No man had ever hit me before—never—and the shock of it made my eyes widen.
Jason leaned close, voice low and hateful.
"Don't you ever say you're married again."
I stared at him, breathing hard. Anger and fear tangled inside me. "Kieran will find me," I hissed. "When he does, he'll kill you."
Jason laughed. Actually laughed. A dry, mocking sound that scraped at my nerves.
"Aurielle… no one is finding you. Not him. Not anyone."
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Then he held up a phone.
A plain phone—no network, no SIM, nothing. The kind people use for offline pictures.
He swiped once… showed me a photo.
A car engulfed in flames.
And he looked smug when he whispered, "I faked your death."
W….what?
"They all think you died in that car, Aurielle," Jason said. "Your precious CEO isn't looking for you anymore."
"No," I whispered. "No, that's not possible—"
"Oh, it gets better."
He showed me another photo.
This one made my heart stop.
Kieran.
Holding a woman.
The same moment from the hospital when the nurse slipped and he caught her. The angle made it look intimate, wrong, like something it wasn't.
Jason grinned like he enjoyed watching my heart break.
"You see? He's moved on already. Probably planning to marry her. Men like him don't stay loyal. Not to someone like you. You were just… fun. A distraction."
My jaw locked. My chest tightened painfully.
"You're lying," I whispered.
He shrugged. "Believe what you want."
I pulled at the ropes, the chair scraping beneath me. I wanted to hit him, scream, anything—but the ropes dug deeper into my skin.
Jason stepped back toward the door.
"You're mine now, Aurielle. And there's nothing you or your big bad CEO can do about it."
The door clicked shut behind him.
And the moment his footsteps faded…
I broke.
Not loudly.
Just a quiet, shaking, breathless kind of crying that hurt more than screaming. My entire body felt heavy, like grief had weight.
Then my eyes landed on a small table beside me.
A bottle.
Glass.
My heartbeat quickened.
I shifted the chair. Inch by inch. Grinding the legs across the floor. Slow, steady, controlled. I kept going until the chair bumped the table.
The bottle wobbled… then fell.
It shattered into pieces.
I forced myself sideways, letting the chair tip just enough so I could reach the shards. Pain pricked my fingertips as I grabbed one.
I pressed the rope against the jagged edge.
Rubbed.
Rubbed again.
Harder.
My wrists burned. My fingers shook. Sweat gathered at my temples. But I kept going. I didn't stop. I refused to stop.
Minutes passed.
Then—
The rope snapped.
My hands fell free.
I didn't breathe. I just moved—fumbling for the rope around my ankles, tearing it off, pushing myself off the floor. My legs were weak but adrenaline held me upright.
I went to the door.
Listened.
No voices.
No footsteps.
I opened it slowly.
Empty hallway.
I moved fast, barefoot against the cold floor, down the corridor and toward the faint glow coming from the far end.
When I stepped outside…
Cold wind hit me instantly.
And then—
the sound of waves.
Louder now.
I walked forward until the view opened.
My heart dropped.
It was an island.
Nothing but dark water surrounding every edge. No lights. No buildings. No boats. Just an old house sitting alone at the edge of a private shoreline.
Jason hadn't lied about one thing.
I was trapped in the middle of nowhere.