Victor’s POV
The raft slammed into the shore with such force that my jaw snapped shut painfully on impact.
I tumbled out into the sand, choking and coughing seawater as it burned through my throat and lungs like acid. Rain poured down in heavy sheets, striking my back hard enough to sting, while the wind howled so violently it drowned out every other sound.
“Sir! Hey—sir, are you alright?”
A flashlight beam cut straight into my eyes, blinding me for a moment before rough hands grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me upright.
I shoved them away instinctively.
My legs barely held my weight as I staggered, unsteady and shaking, then turned my gaze back toward the ocean.
It wasn’t calm anymore. It was alive—violent, endless, swallowing itself in towering black waves that rose like walls and came crashing down with brutal force. The yacht was no longer visible. It had already been taken.
Swallowed whole.
“Vivian!” I shouted.
But the storm ripped my voice apart the second it left my mouth, scattering it into nothing.
“Move! Get everyone inside now!” someone from the rescue team yelled, grabbing at my arm. “This storm is escalating!”
I dug my feet into the soaked sand, refusing to be pulled away.
“No! My wife is still out there!” I shouted back, fighting to break free. “She’s still in the water!”
A large man in a yellow raincoat turned toward me, his expression tightening with confusion. Behind me, I could see her now—Miranda—huddled on the sand, trembling as she clutched Theo tightly against her chest. A medic was wrapping a thermal blanket around her shoulders.
“Sir, your wife is right here,” the rescuer yelled over the thunder. “She’s safe. We’ve got the child too. Everyone made it.”
The words stopped me cold.
I turned slowly.
Miranda lifted her face toward me. Her makeup had smeared down her cheeks, streaking like black tears in the rain. She looked exhausted, shaken, fragile in a way that almost seemed convincing.
But she wasn’t who I was looking for.
“No…” The word came out low and dangerous as I grabbed the man’s collar. “That’s not my wife.”
He blinked, clearly confused. “What are you talking about?”
“My wife is still out there!” I roared, pointing furiously toward the raging sea. “She’s in that water! I left her behind! You need to go back for her!”
The realization hit me all at once, sharp and suffocating.
I had left her.
Actually left her.
What I had intended wasn’t this. It was supposed to be control, punishment, fear—something temporary. I wanted her shaken, broken down, begging. I never meant for her to disappear.
“We can’t go back out there!” the rescuer shouted, breaking free from my grip. “Look at those waves! No vessel can survive that right now—it’s a death sentence!”
“I don’t care!” I screamed, voice breaking. “I’ll pay whatever you want! I’ll buy every damn boat you have—just go get her!”
“It’s not possible!” he shouted back. “If she’s still in the water without any flotation, then she’s already—”
He hesitated, but the meaning landed anyway.
“…gone, sir. I’m sorry.”
Gone.
The word didn’t feel real at first. It struck me like something physical, like a blow to the chest that knocked all the air out of me.
Vivian?
Gone?
No.
She couldn't be gone. She was Vivian. She was mine. She survived the car crash of our marriage, she survived the grief of Caleb, she survived everything I threw at her. She couldn't just... disappear.
"You're lying," I whispered, backing away. "She's swimming. She's strong. She's waiting for me."
I turned toward the surf. I took a step.
"Victor!"
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I spun around. Miranda was there. She had dropped the blanket. She was soaking wet, her dress clinging to her skin.
"Victor, stop!" she cried. "You can't go back in there! You'll die!"
"Let go of me!" I snapped, trying to shake her off. "She's alone, Miranda! I pushed her away!"
"She's dead, Victor!" Miranda screamed.
I froze.
"Don't you say that," I hissed.
"Look at the waves!" Miranda sobbed, pointing at the ocean. "No one could survive that! She's gone! But we're here! Theo is here!"
She grabbed my hand and pressed it against her stomach.
"My stomach..." she gasped. "The baby... Victor, please don't leave me here. Don't lose us too."
I looked at her, confused.
"Baby?" I choked out. "What baby? Theo is right there."
"No," she sobbed, clutching her belly. "I'm pregnant, Victor. I'm pregnant again. With your child."
The world tilted on its axis.
Pregnant?
I didn't know. She hadn't told me.
"Get her to the truck," I barked at the medics, my mind reeling. "Now!"
They loaded us into the ambulance. The ride to the island’s small emergency clinic was a blur of sirens and Miranda’s whimpers.
I sat in the front seat, staring out the window at the rain slashing against the glass.
Every drop looked like the ocean.
Every shadow looked like her drowning face.
Please, Victor. Don't leave me.
Her voice echoed in my head. Louder than the siren.
We arrived at the clinic. It was chaos. Doctors running, nurses shouting. They wheeled Miranda away.
I didn't follow her. I couldn't.
I grabbed a nurse by the arm. "Where is the police station? Who is in charge of search and rescue?"
"Next door," she stammered. "But sir, the storm—"
I didn't listen. I ran out into the rain.
I burst into the small police station. It smelled of stale coffee and damp wool.
"Find her," I ordered the chief of police. "I want helicopters. I want divers. I want every boat you have in the water. Now."
"Mr. Hale," Miller said, standing up slowly. "We are doing everything we can. But the storm is still raging. The search and rescue teams... they can't launch until it clears."
"So she's just out there," I said flatly. "Floating."
"I'm sorry, sir. It's too dangerous."
"Do more!" I slammed my fist on his desk, scattering papers. "She is my wife! I don't care about the danger! I will fund the entire operation! Just get out there!"
"We can't," he said firmly.
I sat back down on a hard plastic chair. I put my head in my hands.
I waited.
I waited for hours. I watched the clock on the wall tick. Tick. Tick.
Every second was a wave crashing over her head.
A doctor from the clinic came in looking for me.
"Mr. Hale?"
I looked up, hope flaring in my chest. "Did they find her?"
"No, sir," the doctor said gently. "I came to tell you about Ms. Cole. She is stable. The fetus is fine. You're very lucky. It’s a boy."
A boy.
Another son.
I should have been ecstatic. I should have been popping champagne. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? A fresh start. A son with a woman who didn't look at me with dead eyes.
But I felt nothing.
Just a hollow, gnawing pit in my stomach. I didn't even know she was pregnant until she screamed it on the beach.
"Okay," I said hollowly. "Go back to her."
Finally, the rain stopped. The sun began to rise, painting the sky in mocking shades of pink and orange.
I spent the entire day at the harbor. I watched the boats go out. I watched the helicopters circle.
A police boat pulled into the dock.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I ran toward it.
Chief Miller stepped off. He was holding a plastic bag.
Inside was a piece of fabric.
Blue. Torn. Soaked.
A piece of the dress she was wearing.
He walked up to me. He didn't look me in the eye.
"Mr. Hale," he said quietly.
"Where is she?" I demanded, scanning the boat. "Is she in the cabin? Is she hurt?"
"Sir..."
"Where is she?!"
The chief took a deep breath. He held up the bag.
"We found this snagged on some jagged rocks about five miles south. Near the drop-off."
I stared at the blue cloth.
"And?" I choked out.
"The currents there... they are incredibly strong, sir. And the sharks... they are active in that area after a storm."
He shook his head slowly.
"We couldn't find a body, Mr. Hale. Based on the conditions and the time that has passed... I think your wife is already dead."
