Even now, Julian still didn’t know exactly what had happened to Niamh.
All he knew was that tomorrow was supposed to be his wedding day, but the thought of it left him restless and unable to sleep.
He tossed and turned in bed, mind racing, until suddenly his phone buzzed with an unfamiliar multimedia message–a sharp jolt that snapped him fully awake.
The message was just a single photo.
The background was an abandoned pier at night, and in the center of the image sat a cell phone.
Julian might not have recognized anything else, but that phone was unmistakably familiar.
It was Niamh’s phone.
At first, he wondered who would send him such a photo and for what reason. Then he left his room, tried calling Niamh but couldn’t reach her, and overheard that a fugitive from Aldenville had escaped to Blackspire, kidnapping Marina and demanding ransom from Jonathan.
All of it left Julian shaken and deeply unsettled.
He quickly studied the photo again, searching for clues to the pier’s location. Against all odds, he actually managed to find the abandoned dock–and, lying there, he saw Niamh.
She was soaked to the bone, looking as if she’d just crawled out of the sea, dragging her exhausted body step by step and leaving a clear trail of water behind
her.
But eventually, her strength failed, and she collapsed.
Her phone lay beside her.
Oddly, the phone wasn’t brøken, nor was it wet.
Julian felt something was off.
Clearly, something had happened to Niamh.
And whoever had sent him that photo must have wanted him to find her.
But why?
14:28
Everyone attending his wedding to Susy knew that Niamh was Jonathan’s wife
So why contact Julian Instead of Jonathan?
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being used for someone else’s plan
Still, whatever the sender’s motives, they’d done him a huge favor.
Maybe, Julian thought, this was fate’s way of pushing him and Niamh together–and he wasn’t about to let that chance slip away.
He carried Niamh’s unconscious body to the seaside villa at Azure Bay.
Her hands were injured–cuts from something sharp, and her wrists showed clear signs of having been rubbed raw by restraints.
Julian gently cleaned her wounds, applied ointment, and helped her out of her soaked dress.
Underneath, she wore seamless lingerie–also damp, but not drenched.
He hesitated, determined not to take advantage of her, then carried Niamh, clad only in her undergarments, to the bed, making sure she could rest comfortably.
Through the spotless floor–to–ceiling windows, he watched as she slept deeply.
Julian didn’t dare go
inside.
He was afraid he’d lose control.
The sun rose over the sea, chasing away the darkness, the waves glittering as they returned to their usual, brilliant blue.
Niamh wasn’t sure how long she’d slept.
She only knew that when she woke, everything around her was unfamiliar.
She remembered Daniel abducting her, remembered leaping into the sea to escape.
She’d made it to shore, but between the cold and the exhaustion, she’d eventually collapsed.
At that moment, Niamh had no idea what fate awaited her.
Daniel’s accomplices had guns. If they decided not to let her go, she could easily have been taken again or killed–while she was unconscious.
It was pure terror that had finally overwhelmed her.
But now, looking around at her surroundings, she realized she hadn’t been taken to
2/3
Marisola.
She was in a Mediterranean–style villa, the sound of waves crashing nearby
Niamh had just noticed she was undressed when she heard a man’s voice,
“You’re finally awake.”
The man who stepped out from behind the glass doors startled her more than a little.
