Chapter 3

The water was a cold, crushing weight.

Mia gasped, salt stinging her eyes, her lungs burning.

She kicked, trying to stay afloat, but her dress felt like lead, pulling her down.

Panic clawed at her throat. She couldn' t swim properly like this.

She saw Ethan. He was looking right at her, then his eyes shifted to Victoria, who was screaming, closer to the yacht.

His choice was instant.

He dove, but not for her. He went for Victoria.

Mia watched him reach his fiancée, his arms strong and sure as he pulled Victoria towards safety.

He didn' t even glance back.

It was as if she didn' t exist. Or worse, as if she was a problem he' d decided to ignore.

A wave crashed over Mia' s head, pushing her under.

The cold was absolute. Despair, sharper than the cold, pierced through her.

He' d left her.

He' d chosen. And it wasn' t her.

The fight went out of her. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy.

The world turned dark. Her last thought was of Alex, the kind man who had loved her. He was truly gone.

She woke up shivering, wrapped in a scratchy blanket, in a small, sterile-looking cabin on the yacht.

Her head throbbed. Her chest ached with every breath.

She heard voices outside the door, low and careless.

"Is she alright?" A man' s voice.

"Yeah, some deckhand pulled her out. The boss only had eyes for Miss Sterling." Another voice, rougher.

"Figures. She' s just some charity case, right? The ranger girl?"

"Guess she learned her lesson. Don' t get between a rich man and his rich fiancée."

Their laughter was muffled but clear.

Mia closed her eyes. Expendable. That' s what she was.

She remembered a time, back in her cabin, when she' d caught a bad cold after a long rescue in the rain.

Alex had been frantic.

He' d tucked her into bed, piling blankets on her. He' d made her soup, his brow furrowed with worry.

He' d sat by her side for hours, holding her hand, telling her stories, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

He' d pressed cool cloths to her forehead, his touch gentle, his concern palpable.

"Don' t you worry, Mia," he' d whispered. "I' m here. I' ll take care of you."

That Alex, the one who had cared so deeply, was a ghost.

The man who was Ethan Ashford had made his priorities clear.

He had saved Victoria. He had left Mia to drown.

A profound sense of finality washed over her.

There was nothing left of Alex in Ethan. Nothing at all.

The love they had shared, the promises he had made, were ashes.

It was over. Irrevocably.

Later, after the yacht docked, Ethan came to the guest house on the Ashford estate where Mia had been moved.

She had a raging fever, her lungs rattling. Pneumonia, the doctor had said.

Ethan looked awkward, uncomfortable.

He carried a lavish bouquet of flowers and a small, elegantly wrapped gift box.

"Mia. How are you feeling?"

His voice was strained.

She just looked at him, her eyes dull with fever and heartbreak.

"The doctor said you' ll be fine. Just need some rest."

He placed the flowers on a side table. They were exotic, expensive, and utterly meaningless.

"Victoria was quite shaken. She' s resting too. These are for her, actually, when she wakes up properly. I just... wanted to see you."

He opened the gift box. Inside, nestled on velvet, was a delicate diamond tennis bracelet.

"This is also for Vicky. A little something to cheer her up after the ordeal."

He looked at Mia, a strange expression on his face. Almost pleading.

"The wedding is next week, Mia. Victoria needs a lot of support. I was hoping... perhaps you could help? With some of the last-minute arrangements? Keep her company?"

Mia stared at him, speechless.

He wanted her to help plan his wedding to the woman he' d saved instead of her?

The audacity was breathtaking. The cruelty, unintentional or not, was a fresh stab.