The television blared in the background. I stared at the sterile hospital ceiling, but all I saw was the high school gymnasium.

"Jennifer, I will only love you for the rest of my life."

William's teenage voice echoed through the PA system in my mind. The entire senior class had erupted into cheers. He had looked so sure, so devoted.

The memory shifted to our first tiny apartment.

"You gave up your master's program to manage this house," William whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You take care of my parents. You handle the bills. You are my safest harbor, Jen."

That was seven years ago.

The hospital door swung open, shattering the illusion.

William marched in. He snatched the remote from the tray table and hit the power button. The news anchor vanished mid-sentence.

He tossed a paper boarding pass onto my lap. It landed lightly on the thin white blanket.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Your flight back to New York," William replied. He adjusted his expensive cufflinks, not meeting my gaze. "Economy. Row 42."

I stared at the blue airline logo. "You're flying commercial?"

"I am taking the private jet," he corrected. His tone held zero warmth. "Nancy is coming with me. She needs a comfortable environment for her ankle."

"You're leaving me here? After I almost froze to death?"

"I am setting a boundary." William crossed his arms. "You threw a tantrum on that mountain to compete for my attention. You embarrassed me in front of the resort staff."

"I was trapped!" I yelled, my throat burning. "The lift broke!"

"Lower your voice," he snapped. "I am tired of your jealousy. You are going home alone."

Nancy peeked her head around the doorframe. She leaned heavily on a single metal crutch. "William? The car is waiting."

He didn't even look at her. His cold eyes stayed fixed on me.

"When you figure out what you did wrong, then come back," William ordered.

"I didn't do anything wrong," I whispered.

"Keep telling yourself that," he countered.

He turned on his heel and walked out. Nancy offered me a final, victorious smirk before following him into the hallway.

I gripped the boarding pass until the paper crumpled into a tight ball in my fist.

***

The commercial airliner rattled violently. My seatbelt dug into my hips.

"Brace for impact!" the pilot screamed over the intercom.

Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. A woman two rows ahead sobbed loudly.

I clutched the armrests. The cabin lights flickered, buzzed, and died.

We plunged. The dark, freezing ocean rushed up to meet the nose of the plane.

Metal groaned. Water shattered the windows.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. Cold swallowed me whole.

***

The tires of the private jet touched down on the JFK runway.

William unbuckled his seatbelt and checked his phone. No messages. No missed calls.

His assistant, Mark, stood waiting by the hangar doors as William and Nancy descended the metal stairs.

"Did Jennifer admit her mistake?" William asked, handing Mark his briefcase. "Did she call the office?"

Mark didn't take the bag. His face was entirely devoid of color.

"Sir," Mark stammered. His hands shook violently.

"Speak clearly," William demanded. "Stop stuttering."

"Oceanic Flight 109," Mark swallowed hard. "It went down over the Atlantic two hours ago."

William froze. The leather briefcase slipped from his fingers. It hit the tarmac with a dull thud.

"What did you just say?"

"The plane crashed into the sea," Mark whispered. "Search and rescue teams are out there. But... they haven't found any survivors."

Nancy gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth. Her face turned chalk-white.

William stared at his assistant. His chest tightened. A strange, suffocating pressure crushed his lungs. He had never felt panic before. Not like this.

"Get my helicopter," William ordered. His voice cracked, losing all its usual authority. "Now!"

***

Saltwater burned my lungs. I coughed violently, rolling onto my side.

Soft, dry sheets tangled around my legs.

I forced my eyes open. A massive crystal chandelier hung from a dark mahogany ceiling. The gentle rocking motion told me I was on a ship. The sheer size of the room belonged in a mansion.

"You swallowed a lot of the Atlantic."

The voice was deep, smooth, and devoid of any warmth.

I pushed myself up against the silk pillows. My muscles screamed in protest.

A man sat in a leather armchair near the porthole. He wore a crisp black suit, entirely out of place for a rescue vessel. His sharp jawline and piercing gray eyes projected absolute authority. An intimidating, freezing aura radiated from him, filling the entire cabin.

"Who are you?" I rasped.

"Leo Thorne," he answered. He didn't move. He just watched me.

I recognized that name. The Thorne family controlled half the shipping lanes in the western hemisphere. Old money. Ruthless reputation.

"You pulled me out of the water?" I asked.

"My crew found you clinging to a piece of fuselage," Leo stated. He stood up, towering over the bed. "You are the only one we found."

The reality of the crash hit me. The screams. The freezing water.

"I need a phone," I panicked. I looked around the room for a landline. "I have to call my husband."

"William?" Leo asked.

I stopped. "How do you know his name?"

"I know everything about the woman I pulled from the ocean," Leo replied. He took a step closer. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "I know he left you in Switzerland. I know he replaced you with a secretary. And I know he thinks you are dead."

My jaw tightened. "Give me a phone."

"No."

"You can't keep me here!" I threw the blanket off my legs.

"I can do whatever I want," Leo said. His tone remained perfectly flat. "You have no money. No power. Your husband discarded you for a cheaper version."

"That is none of your business," I shot back.

"It became my business when you landed in my territory," Leo countered. He stopped right at the edge of the mattress. His gray eyes locked onto mine. "You can go back to him. You can crawl back and beg for your position as the dutiful, ignored wife."

"I don't beg."

"Prove it."

I stared at him. My heart hammered against my ribs. "What do you want from me?"

Leo leaned down. His face hovered inches from mine.

"Want to live?" he asked softly. "Then make a deal with me."

"What kind of deal?" I whispered.

Leo straightened his tie, his expression unreadable. "The kind that destroys William."