Chapter 198
By the shore.
A cold, decaying cross lay half–buried in wet sand, rotted by the relentless tide.
A white jacket, stained with dried, rust–colored blood, rested nearby–silent testimony to the violence that had taken place.
There was no sign of life anywhere.
“We did everything we could. In the past few days, the search team has expanded the rescue area tenfold–but all we’ve found are these two things.”
Luther stared at the recovered items, grief rising in his chest like a wave threatening to pull him under.
All the restraint he’d managed until now unraveled, giving way to a raw, aching wail. “Celly… it was your grandfather who failed you.”
With trembling hands, Chester slowly dropped to one knee, lifting the salt–stiffened jacket. His dark eyes brimmed with an agony so deep it bordered on disbelief–he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accept the truth.
For a long moment, he was utterly still. Then, suddenly he broke, his voice cracking into a desperate roar. “No! She’s not dead! She’s not the kind of person who gives up–she wouldn’t just leave us like that!”
The rescue chief let out a weary sigh. “Mr. Fordham, you need to prepare yourself. Every year, at least a dozen people drown in these waters and never return. Even if your wife managed to free herself from those ropes, the odds-”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Chester lunged, grabbing the man by the collar, wild with grief. “Don’t say that! Keep searching! If you haven’t found a body, she’s not dead. Keep looking!”
“O–Of course,” the rescue chief stammered, silently cursing under his breath.
He rounded up his team and sent them back into the water.
“Boss, we’re still looking for that woman? It’s been three days. If she was alive have found her by now she’s probably halfway to the next life.”
‘d
“Who knows,” another muttered, “rich folks love to make a show of it–acting like they’re so heartbroken over their spouses. The more tragic, the better! But hey,
they’re paying us by the hour, so let’s keep dredging. Maybe we’ll actually hat up: few bodies for him to identify!”
Their laughter was harsh and cold.
“Careful, you’ll scare the life out of those high–rollers,” one snorted. “Hey, we’re almost to Dreadmire Fishing Hamlet. Should we try searching over there?”
Suddenly, their faces sobered.
The rescue chief spat into the sea. “Forget it. That place is cursed–nothing ever washes up there, not even the dead. No way she’s there.”
The rescue boat drifted farther and farther from shore.
And on a quiet, deserted island, Celestine watched the distant orange boat disappear across the waves.
Three days ago, the kidnappers had shoved her into the ocean with desperate force. In that split second, she’d truly believed she wanted to die. All the despair she’d bottled up over a lifetime surged to the surface, dragging her down. Maybe it would’ve been a relief to just let go. Maybe, for once, those who’d hurt her would feel a flicker of guilt.
But Celestine wasn’t the kind to leave without looking back, not when she still had people who cared about her. She thought of her grandfather’s worried face, and her heart clenched so tight she could barely breathe.
As she sank beneath the surface, she caught a glimpse of a frantic figure diving after her–Gideon, swimming with wild, uncoordinated strokes, eyes wide with
panic.
She wanted to tell him to go back, to save himself, but the water swallowed her
words.
At the last moment, Gideon managed to catch hold of her.
But then, as if fate were playing some cruel joke, he started to flounder–his arms flailing, head going under. He was drowning.
Panic jolted Celestine. She’d never wanted anyone else to die for her.
With a surge of adrenaline, she wriggled free from the ropes, the saltwater
on
her skin helping her twist loose. Summoning every scrap of strength, she dragged Gideon to shore, hauling him onto the sand of this lonely island.
Soaked to the bone and shivering, Celestine pulled Gideon’s limp body further up the beach. She knelt beside him, gently slapping his pale cheek.
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Chapter 198
“Mr. Prescott… Wake up, Mr. Prescott…”
His striking face was eerily still, showing no sign of life.
Celestine fumbled with trembling fingers, unbuttoning his collar, ready to start CPR. If anyone saw them now, they’d probably think she was some Good Samaritan,
rescuing a lost soul from the sea.
