Chapter 1

My husband gave me a cruise ship for my birthday, but his secretary had her name written on the hull—"The Nina."

My blood ran cold.

Ethan Cole's face also stiffened as he immediately dialed his phone, his voice dark: "Nina Quinn, where are you? What's with the name on the ship?"

A delicate crying voice came through from the other end. Moments later, a woman in a Chanel suit with perfect makeup came running over—his secretary, Nina Quinn.

When she saw me, she immediately fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face, her forehead hitting the teak deck with a "thud": "Mrs. Cole, I'm sorry! My mother has a terminal illness, and I lied to her that this ship was mine, just so she could pass away peacefully. Please make this right!"

I watched her performance—absurd, yet familiar.

Hadn't Megan used similar tricks to win Harry's sympathy back then?

I sneered, looking down at her: "The cruise ship is my birthday gift. Why should it have your name on it?"

She froze, as if I were the heartless one: "Ma'am, I just wanted to give my mother peace of mind—"

"She's your mother, not mine." I cut her off, stepping closer. "You have countless ways to show filial piety—rent a ship, photoshop pictures. Why did you have to tamper with my gift?"

I called the captain directly to change the name.

Nina collapsed, her face ashen.

Ethan pulled me aside, frowning: "She's doing it for her dying mother..."

I shook off his hand: "If she really cared about being filial, there are plenty of ways. Why did she have to touch my things?"

He fell silent and turned to handle the ship's renaming.

On my birthday, the weather was clear and bright. He acted as attentive as usual: making breakfast himself, giving me a diamond necklace, saying he wanted to throw me a grand party on "my cruise ship."

I thought the matter was closed.

We took a speedboat out to the luxury cruise ship anchored in the middle of the sea. I had renamed it "Priceless."

The speedboat stopped dozens of meters from the cruise ship. Ethan stood up, extending his hand with a gentle smile: "Come, let me carry you over."

I had no guard up. The moment I placed my hand in his palm, his smile vanished, his arm yanked, and he shoved hard against my back with his other hand.

I fell backward. The last thing I saw was his cold, hard face.

"Splash!"

The icy seawater swallowed me, salt burning my nose and throat, my lungs feeling like they were on fire. The evening dress absorbed water and became impossibly heavy, dragging me down.

I struggled desperately, finally breaking the surface, gasping for air, wiping away the seawater, and looking up at the speedboat.

He stood at the bow, watching me coldly, his phone screen glowing.

The cruise ship's deck was somehow now full of people, Nina wearing a fire-red bikini leaning against the rail, waving at me with a smile full of mockery.

Ethan's voice came from above, cold as a blade: "Didn't you say you had plenty of ways? Figure out how to get up here yourself."

Above my head, something buzzed—a drone hovering. Its black lens was like a merciless eye, pointed directly at me.

He was livestreaming. Making everyone watch me struggle in the water.

Laughter erupted from the deck, camera flashes creating a blinding white.

I could imagine the online frenzy: wardrobe malfunction screenshots, vicious comments spreading like a virus.

Panic and humiliation gripped my throat. The seawater was freezing, my limbs growing weak.

No. I couldn't die, especially not like this.

After the initial panic, anger replaced fear. I stopped thrashing, regulated my breathing, let myself float efficiently, no longer looking at the laughter and that nauseating face.

I looked up, staring directly into the drone's lens, my voice quiet but crystal clear: "Had enough of a look? Now get your ass down here and get me."