The wind tore through the cliffs like a living thing, howling against the rocks as if the earth itself wanted to scream. The sea roared below, cruel and endless, rising with the tide—and ready to take what the world no longer wanted.
Jade stood barefoot at the edge, blood seeping from the cut on her temple, her dress torn and soaked in cold ocean mist. Her wrists were still red from the ropes. Her body trembled from shock, exhaustion, and something deeper: betrayal.
Vivien sobbed quietly behind her.
And Cole… Cole stood in front of her like a man already gone.
"You're not going to leave me here," Jade whispered, searching his eyes. "Please… we both—" She stopped herself.
We both know what I gave up for you.
Cole's jaw tensed. He didn't step forward.
Instead, he turned to his head of security. "Justin—your brother will find you. He'll save you."
And then, to Jade—his voice ice cold:
"I chose Vivien."
That was it.
Not I'm sorry. Not Take care of yourself. Just a decision. Clean. Sharp. Final.
Jade stared at him, her chest heaving. "You married me," she said brokenly. "You let me carry your child."
Silence.
No remorse. No defense.
She took a step back. The edge crumbled underfoot, gravel slipping away.
For a moment, time stretched.
And then, Jade fell.
The wind rushed past her like a scream, the ocean rising up to meet her. Gravity tore her downward, but the pain in her chest was heavier than any fall.
She thought of Cole—his indifference, his cold eyes, the way he hadn't even looked at her when he chose Vivien. She thought of the day he married her, how she had held on to hope, telling herself that maybe one day he would learn to love her. She had lied to herself. Again and again.
And now, she was falling. Alone.
A sob wrenched from her throat.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
She placed a trembling hand over her belly. "I'm so sorry, baby."
Tears spilled from her eyes, vanishing into the sky above.
Then she closed her eyes.
And let the dark take her.
Three Days Later — New York Shoreline
The sea was quiet now, the waves gentler, as if the ocean itself felt shame.
Thomas Quinn ran along the shore, his breath steady, his mind elsewhere—on a merger, a contract, a dozen things that didn't matter. Nothing ever did, not anymore.
Then he saw her.
A motionless body, half-buried in sand and foam. Dark hair tangled like seaweed. Skin deathly pale.
At first he thought she was gone.
Then she breathed.
He was at her side in seconds, kneeling in the cold sand. He pressed two fingers to her neck. Faint pulse.
She shivered beneath his hoodie as he wrapped it around her. Her lips moved.
He leaned closer.
"Save… my baby…"
The words were a whisper. A plea. A vow.
Thomas Quinn, the man the world called untouchable, suddenly couldn't breathe.
He didn't know who she was. Didn't know where she came from or what storm she had survived.
But he knew this: she wasn't dying today. Not on his watch.
"I've got you," he said softly. "I've got you."
And he didn't let go.