Chapter 6

Even though Cynthia had just saved Melissa, she didn't show the slightest trace of gratitude. Instead, she looked at Cynthia with venomous hatred. "Oliver is mine. You're just my stand-in. What are you so proud of?" "Oh?" Cynthia's voice was calm. "If that's really true, then what are you so afraid of?" She couldn't understand something. Years ago, Melissa pushed Cynthia into the water, only for Melissa's mother to lose her life to save Cynthia. For that, Melissa resented Cynthia. Now, history repeated itself—Melissa tried to harm her again, only to be saved by her. Yet, Melissa still resented her, resulting in her wanting to know Melissa's thoughts. However, before Cynthia could speak, Melissa's expression shifted. She took Cynthia's hand and pressed it against her chest, mouthing the words silently, "You'll never win over me." Then, she suddenly leaned back and fell into the sea. Cynthia stood frozen in shock as a panicked shout tore through the air from behind her. "Melissa!" Oliver's heart clenched at the sight of Melissa plummeting into the dark waters. Without hesitation, he dove in after her. Cynthia's eyes stung. It felt like someone had hollowed out her chest, leaving nothing but a gaping void. That scene was painfully similar. Years ago, when she fell into the water, Oliver had jumped in just like this to save her from the brink of death. That was a different time, though. Everything had changed, and she had simply misjudged the man. … Melissa was quickly rescued. The moment Oliver climbed back on board, he rushed to drape a towel over her shivering body. Then, with an unreadable expression, he turned and strode toward Cynthia. He slapped her, the crisp sound echoing across the deck and drawing the eyes of everyone present. "You're so wicked!" Oliver roared. "You pushed her into the sea! Were you trying to kill her? Did you even know this is a crime?" He had struck her with full force. Cynthia collapsed to the ground from the blow. Her ears buzzed as everything around her seemed to fade into silence, while her face throbbed painfully. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably. She had never been treated like this before—never. She lifted her head stubbornly, her voice choked. "I didn't. She jumped herself. There's surveillance footage—you can check it." "You're still lying? I saw it with my own eyes!" Oliver snapped. "Oliver! Melissa fainted!" At that, Oliver's expression changed. Panic replaced rage as he scooped Melissa into his arms and rushed her back into the cabin. Everyone also followed, crowding around Melissa—leaving Cynthia alone in the cold night air. She didn't know how much time passed. Eventually, she staggered to her feet and stumbled back to her room. … At dawn the next day, Oliver stormed in like a hurricane, yanking her from the bed by her arm. "You just can't stand to see Melissa doing well, can you? You even put voodoo dolls in her room!" "I didn't!" "Still trying to deny it?" He wouldn't listen to a word she said. Furious, he ordered Leo to stop the yacht at a deserted island and personally dragged her off the boat. The moment she hit the ground, pain shot through her limbs, but she scrambled to her feet. "Please," she begged, her voice trembling. "Don't leave me here. I'm scared." "Good. You should be scared. Melissa was just as terrified when you pushed her. Actions have consequences. Stay here and reflect. We'll come back in a few days." As the yacht drifted farther and farther away, Cynthia's expression turned to despair. The icy waves crashed against her legs. She gasped, choking on seawater as she tried to steady her breath. The tide was rising. Realizing the danger, she rushed inside. The island was tiny—barely one square kilometer—and surrounded by an endless ocean. Terrified, she curled into herself and buried her head between her knees. Her childhood trauma resurfaced with a vengeance. Ever since nearly drowning as a child, she had developed a deep fear of water. Later, under Oliver's encouragement, she forced herself to learn to swim, but the aversion to water had never truly left her. Back when he still cared, he had never once taken her near the sea. Now, with Melissa in the picture, he had forgotten everything. Not only had he brought her on a yacht, but he had also thrown her onto an island—punishing her in Melissa's name. The sound of the waves echoed endlessly in Cynthia's ears, and once again, she felt like she was drowning—helpless, in despair, lost. Those nightmares buried deep within her came rushing at her like a tidal wave. Cynthia hugged herself tightly, as if that could stop the fear, but it was useless. A low, pained sob slipped from her throat. She cried—cried until she had no strength left. … On the yacht, Leo had picked up the binoculars and happened to catch a glimpse of her weeping figure. He felt a pang of guilt. "Oliver, isn't this too cruel? Let's bring her back." Oliver was feeding Melissa fruit and scoffed without looking up. 'It's only been a few hours. Let her stew a bit longer." Cynthia didn't know how long she had cried. The cold wind crept into every inch of her body, making her shiver uncontrollably. She had no coat, no shelter. Eventually, the cold began to fade—but not because it got warmer. Her body was going numb, and her mind was slipping. Then, everything went blank.