My Ex-Convict Husband Wants Me to be His Wife... Again!

The waves outside slammed against the ship like a relentless drumbeat, but it wasn’t the storm that sent my pulse racing. It was his voice.

“Do I need to finish her off? Alright, I'll make sure she doesn't leave this ship alive."

I pressed my ear harder against the bathroom door, my heart pounding so loudly I was afraid he’d hear it. Elizalde—my husband of only three days—was plotting to kill me.

His voice... it was a bit... different.

But what matter is, WHO WAS HE TALKING WITH?!

My knees buckled under the weight of the realization, but I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay quiet.

As soon as I heard the click of the cabin door closing, I bolted out. The room spun, my chest tightening as the gravity of the situation hit me. I wasn’t safe here.

I WASN'T SAFE WITH HIM.

I tore through his things like a madwoman, shaking hands flipping through papers, opening drawers, searching his bag. There had to be something—ANYTHING—that could tell me what he was up to. A phone, a journal, a... clue.

NOTHING.

Sweat dripped down my temple as I glanced around the room, thinking of what to do next. I was about to check the coat he had hung on the chair when I heard it—the door handle turning.

Panic gripped me. I barely had time to straighten up before the door flew open, and there he was. Elizalde—or the man I thought was my husband—stood there with a gun in his hand.

“Looking for something, Anastasia?” he asked, his voice calm, almost amused.

But his voice... it really sounds different now!

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribcage. “Elizalde, what… what’s going on?” I stammered, taking a step back.

He stepped forward, the dim cabin light casting eerie shadows across his face. “You shouldn’t have been snooping. Now look at what you’ve done.”

My legs hit the edge of the bed, trapping me. I glanced at the door, weighing my chances of escape. “W-Why are you doing this? I’m your wife!” I said, hoping—praying—that whatever shred of humanity he had left would surface.

But he only smirked. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Before I could respond, his hand moved to his face. I blinked, confused, until I saw him pull at the edges of his skin. No, not skin—a mask.

My breath caught in my throat as the face I thought I knew melted away, revealing someone else entirely. A face I hadn’t seen in years.

“G-Gabriel?” I whispered, the name tasting foreign on my tongue.

He smirked, his scarred cheek lifting. “Took you long enough.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. My childhood best friend—the boy I thought had died in the fire at the orphanage—was standing right in front of me.

“You… you’re supposed to be dead,” I finally managed to choke out.

His expression softened, but only for a moment. “I should be. But life doesn’t work that way, does it?”

I tried to make sense of it all, my mind spinning with questions. “W-Why are you doing this? Why pretend to be him?”

“I don’t have time to explain everything, Ana,” he said, stepping closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But you need to know one thing—Elizalde is dangerous. If you stay with him, you’re as good as dead.”

I heaved a breath. “S-So that means, y-you're staying with me for the last three days in this yacht? T-To kill me?" I said.

He didn't answer. He just.. nodded. SHIT!

I really thought I was imagining that he was acting in a strange way. Something that he didn't used to do.

I flinched as he raised the gun, pointing it directly at me. “Gabriel, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling for the first time. “But if I don’t do this, he’ll kill us both.”

Before I could react, the gun fired. A searing pain tore through my side, and I collapsed onto the bed, clutching my wound.

“Stay down,” he hissed, leaning over me. His hands were rough but careful as he pressed a cloth to my side to stem the bleeding. “Play dead. Don’t move until I say so.”

“What?” I gasped, my vision swimming.

“He knows where we are, he tracks everything," Gabriel whispered. He pulled a phone from his pocket and snapped a photo of me, blood staining the sheets beneath me. “If he thinks you’re alive, we’re both dead. Trust me, Ana. Just this once. This is my mission and I will use it to save you."

I didn’t have a choice. The pain was unbearable, but the fear was worse. I let my body go limp, closing my eyes as his footsteps faded away.

My mind screamed with questions. W-Who was Gabriel working for? What did Elizalde want from me?

And just a few seconds after, we heard a buzzing sound. The evil laugh of Elizalde is echoing inside the room from the speaker.

“I knew it. You knew each other," he spoke sarcastically. “Well then, I'll let you reunite in hell."