Chapter 17
Devlin sat in the driver’s seat, starting the car with a smooth turn of the key. “Buckle up. you there–it’s safer that way.”
I’ll take
Sloane gripped the edge of her white cane tightly. For the past few days, her vision had slowly
started to return.
The haze clouding her sight had thinned considerably. She could now move about freely without much trouble. Medical tests confirmed the damage to her optic nerve was improving—which meant… She’d be leaving soon.
The car sped toward the marina. On the way, Sloane got out to buy a small bouquet of bellflowers.
She’d always loved bellflowers.
As a child, she and her mother had lived alone in a small cottage out in the countryside. The front
yard had been filled with rows of them.
Later, Declan brought in exotic, vibrant varieties from abroad and planted them across the entire
garden for her.
Now, all of that was just a memory.
“Mr. Sharpe, I’d like to go alone. I just want to take one last look at the sea–from afar.‘
Wearing a hat and mask, she stepped out of the car fully covered.
Devlin didn’t argue. He just gave a simple reminder. “I’ll keep the car here. If anything goes wrong,
ust hold down the power button–I’m set as your emergency contact.”
Sloane nodded, gripping her cane as she disappeared from Devlin’s sight.
What she didn’t see… was the familiar yacht pulling into dock not far from her.
Sloane stood quietly, gazing out at the wide, endless sea. Then she placed the bellflowers gently by
the fence.
“Happy birthday, Mom. It’s your first one since we’ve been apart. Since there’s no grave, this is the
only way I can be with you.”
Her tears had long since run dry, but her eyes still brimmed with heat. “By the way… I’ve done what I could, in my own way. I’ve fought hard to bring justice–for you. No matter how things end, I have
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no regrets.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “They say all the world’s oceans are connected. So next year, on this
day, I’ll probably be standing on another shore… celebrating with you.”
She took one last look at the water before turning away.
But that final glance made her blood run cold.
Beneath the brim of her hat, she caught sight of a man stepping off a nearby yacht.
It was Declan.
Her body acted faster than her mind. She turned on her heel and walked away. At that exact
moment, Declan–stepping off the yacht–froze. A strange jolt surged through him. He looked
just in time to catch a retreating figure.
The way she moved. The curve of her waist, the sway of her hips. It was her.
up-
His breath hitched. A lightning bolt surged through him as he bolted after her like a man possessed.
“Sloane?! Sloane, is that you?!”
Back at the car, Sloane dropped her cane. Without even thinking, she yanked open the door and
jumped into the passenger seat.
“Drive! Please–just go!” Her voice trembled uncontrollably.
Devlin didn’t waste a second. The sleek black car peeled out of the lot, racing down the coastal road,
leaving the marina in the dust.
Only when they were far enough away did he pull over to the side of the road.
“What happened?” he asked, frowning at her pale, shaken face. “Are you feeling okay?”
Something was clearly off. Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly, each shallow breath betraying a trace of unease–was it fear, panic, or just a surge of anxious tension?
“You’re safe now, Sloane. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
He reached out, about to fasten her seatbelt–when her icy hand clamped around his wrist.
“Mr. Sharpe,” she said, voice firm, “I need to leave. Now.”
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Back at the marina, Declan was still chasing the ghost of that moment. He’d sprinted after her,
heart in his throat–but he was too late.
He ran after her with everything he had, but still–he was a step too late. All he saw was her figure slipping into a sleek luxury car before it sped off and vanished.
Breathing hard, eyes reddened, Declan stood by the sea, frantically scanning every direction.
It was her. It had to be her.
He wasn’t even sure if what he’d seen was real–or just a hallucination. But as he searched the docks again and again…
He finally saw that small bouquet of white bellflowers sitting by the fence.
Declan’s eyes burned. He dropped to his knees and scooped up the flowers, holding them tightly
against his chest.
In his open palm rested a ruby engagement ring.
Their wedding ring. The same ring that had been found three days ago wedged in a crack on the yacht deck. Ever since then, he’d stayed on the water, searching tirelessly–desperately.
He couldn’t even remember how many times he’d set out like this, filled with dread, hoping to
recover her body.
No wonder…
He’d never been able to find her–because Sloane wasn’t dead.
She was alive. She was still here.
“Check every inch of surveillance footage near the docks,” he barked into the phone. “I don’t care
how long it takes–tonight, I want answers.‘
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