Chapter 1 WHEN IT HURT THE MOST

The first time Jackson Reid laid eyes on the Dungeon, he hadn't come for the view.

It wasn't a real dungeon-just what the locals called the forgotten edge of Maine where saltwater hung thick in the air and lobster traps lined the docks like prayer beads. Officially, it was Fisherman's Corner, but no one who lived here used that name. It didn't matter to Jackson. He hadn't come here to belong. He'd come here to disappear.

Two years ago, his life had looked nothing like this. Penthouse views. Six-figure job. A woman who swore forever. When Tessa told him she was pregnant, he threw himself into the dream-bought a house, painted the nursery, gave her access to his bank accounts. Love had felt like something solid back then.

Then came the DNA test.

He wasn't the father.

She didn't even shed a tear when she told him.

She just packed her things-including most of his money-and left him with a hollow nursery and an emptier heart.

The only person who didn't ask questions was Ben-his younger brother, the one who never left their hometown. Ben offered him a cot in his fishing shack, a mug of strong coffee, and silence. Jackson took all three.

Now the Atlantic wind bit at his skin every morning, and that was fine. The cold didn't lie to him. Neither did the sea. It just kept pulling and pushing-like life.

Mia Carter tightened her grip on the wheel as her Tesla rattled over yet another pothole, her nerves frayed like the hem of a worn dress.

She didn't know where she was headed-only that she couldn't stay where she was.

The Boston skyline had disappeared behind her hours ago, swallowed by dusk and distance. Her charger had stopped working somewhere near Portsmouth. Her mascara had started to smudge just after that.

She hadn't packed a bag. Just threw a few things into the trunk and fled. No destination. No plan. Just the ache to escape.

Men had always admired her confidence-until they didn't. Until it became too much. Too loud. Too ambitious. Too hers. They wanted the version of her they could mold. Quiet. Pretty. Useful.

Derek wanted money. Bryan wanted a business partner in disguise. The names blurred now. But the pattern? That was crystal clear.

Give. Be enough. Get left.

So when the car gave a sputtering jolt and rolled to a stop in front of a sun-bleached sign that read Fisherman's Corner – Pop. 1,028, Mia let out a shaky laugh.

Perfect.

Of course it would die here.

She stepped out, her designer boots crunching on gravel, and looked around. A worn-down gas station slouched in the distance. A crooked wooden sign hung by a thread-Nancy's Motel – $35 a Night.

The air smelled like salt and woodsmoke. The ocean murmured beyond the hill.

It was the ugliest place she'd ever seen.

But for the first time in months, she wasn't scared.

Jackson stood on the dock, his hands calloused and raw from hauling nets all morning. He saw the car before he saw her.

Sleek. Too shiny for this town.

When the woman stepped out, he raised an eyebrow.

Heels. Silk blouse. That city look in her eyes.

"Wrong place for a shopping spree," he muttered to no one.

Ben, beside him, gave a low whistle. "Lost, you think?"

"She'll be gone in three days," Jackson said flatly.

Ben chuckled. "Ten bucks says she stays."

Jackson grunted but kept watching.

She didn't panic. Didn't scream or check her phone. She just stood still, like someone used to losing things-and too tired to chase them anymore.

He knew that look.

He used to wear it.

Mia signed in at the motel using a fake name. Old habit. She didn't feel like being found.

The room smelled of old wood and cleaning spray. The bed squeaked. The mini fridge wheezed like it had asthma. But when she opened the window, a breeze rolled in, thick with brine and silence.

She exhaled. Maybe for the first time in weeks.

No city horns. No pitying texts. No mirrors telling her she was too much or not enough.

Just stillness.

She climbed onto the bed, lay back, and stared at the ceiling until her breathing slowed.

Sleep found her, not because she was comfortable-but because she was finally... still.

Across the village, Jackson sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug, eyes fixed on the sea.

She didn't matter. Just another outsider.

But something in him... paused.

Something said this time might be different.