The night was as dark as ink, and from a corner of the noisy, bustling cruise ship came a cry of excruciating agony.
"Mom… please, let me go! I feel so uncomfortable—I can't breathe…"
With a loud smack, a palm struck with icy cruelty, landing hard across Bella Rivers' face.
Linda Rivers gritted her teeth, madness twisting her features. "If you really think of me as your mother, then go die now!"
Bella's eyes turned scarlet from being choked, tears streaming uncontrollably. She gathered every last shred of strength and finally screamed the sentence she had rehearsed a thousand times in her mind.
"Why… you're the mother who gave birth to me, who raised me. I've never done anything wrong. I love you so much—so why? Why are you doing this to me?!"
Her chest heaved violently as she clung to Linda's hands — hands that could strangle her at any moment.
"You want to know why?" Linda hissed. "Because your very existence is a sin!"
In the next instant, Bella felt an agonizing pull on her scalp, as if her entire skull were being ripped upward by Linda's grip.
"Ah!" Bella barely managed a scream before her head was shoved into a bathtub filled with scalding hot water.
She clawed desperately at the edge, but it was useless. Her strength seeped away like a dying flame.
The boiling water filled her mouth. She could no longer breathe. Her consciousness began to slip away.
Why… her mother had always been good to her… Why was this happening?
Everything hurt—she couldn't breathe—was this how she would die?
Killed by the mother she loved?
Her vision darkened—
Suddenly, the cabin door was kicked open.
A middle-aged man rushed in.
"Linda! What the hell are you doing?! Let her go!"
Bella's fading heart clenched—
Dad. Her dad had come to save her.
But just as she reached out toward him, Charles Rivers' expression twisted, his voice sharp and vile.
"Mr. Carson is waiting for Bella to serve him. If you want her dead, at least let her please our guest first!"
Bella froze.
Was this still her father?
He would hand her to a man in his fifties… as if it were nothing?
Her red eyes filled with burning hatred. Her fists dug into her palms.
"You would sell your own daughter? Aren't you afraid of dying without a grave?!"
"You ungrateful brat!" Linda snarled. "Do you want to die? What nonsense are you spewing?!"
"Yes," Bella whispered, tears dripping. "With parents like you, I'd rather die."
She lurched toward the sliding glass door of the sea-view balcony. The icy wind roared in.
"Stop right there! Even if you want to die, you'll serve Mr. Carson first!" Charles shouted in panic, seeing his walking money-tree slipping away.
Bella climbed onto the railing with one shaking hand.
"If business is so important to you," she sneered, "then do it yourselves."
"That's enough! I'm still your mother!" Linda screamed desperately.
Bella stared at her with hollow eyes.
"Do you even remember that you're my mother?"
The wind howled around her fragile body.
"Dad, Mom… that's the last time I'll call you that. From this moment on—your Bella is dead."
"No! Baby, come down! We were joking!" Charles pleaded, panic rising.
Bella laughed—a wild, broken sound.
"Stop acting. If you really want to sell your daughter, then come down and pick up my corpse."
And before they could move—
Bella leaped.
The world disappeared into darkness.
—
On an isolated island surrounded by endless sea, Bella was washed ashore by the crashing waves. She groaned in pain as she regained consciousness. Her limbs felt weak… but suddenly, heat surged violently inside her body—feral, burning, uncontrollable.
Damn it.
Linda had drugged her.
That heartless couple!
Before she could gather herself, a deafening roar tore across the sky. The sound of aircraft wings sliced the silence. A helicopter descended rapidly and landed dangerously close.
The engine died.
Silence returned.
A helicopter?
If she could get inside and fly off this island, she could find an antidote before the drug consumed her.
After observing for two minutes with no movement, Bella approached and yanked the door open—
A blood-covered corpse tumbled out.
Bella screamed, stumbling back.
She covered her mouth and peeked inside.
Moonlight streamed through the cabin… illuminating a man lying unmoving at the back.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Even injured, he radiated an intimidating presence.
His face—strikingly handsome—was streaked with blood, adding a dangerous, almost wicked beauty to his features.
Bella hurried over, checking his pulse.
He was alive!
She found the helicopter's medical kit and treated him quickly.
Time passed. Finally, the man stirred awake, his head throbbing.
"Hsss…" Bella flinched as he grabbed her wrist suddenly.
"Don't move—I just need to give you one last stitch."
Her head bent low, hair falling forward as she worked.
Against the light, her silhouette was faint.
He couldn't see her clearly. His brows pulled tight.
"Who are you?"
"Someone doing a good deed." Bella replied without looking up. "Your bleeding has stopped. You'll be fine."
The man—Cole Stanton—studied his bandaged wounds, then said coldly, "I don't owe favors. Name your price."
"Don't assume everyone has a motive," Bella muttered. "I just saved you."
Was that even possible?
Cole's dark eyes narrowed, suspicious.
Bella finally tried to stand, but a dizzy spell struck. She collapsed forward—straight into his arms.
Her feverish skin burned against him.
Cole stiffened. Something was wrong.
Her trembling fingers lifted the corner of his shirt. Bella whispered, flustered and desperate:
"I'm sorry… I take back what I said. You might feel pain later, but I saved your life—so now… now it's your turn to save me."
Cole's eyes darkened.
Bella's hot body pressed against him, her hands already unbuckling his belt…