Elena Thomas POV:
The drug had left me weak, my body a fragile prison. I couldn't leave, not like this. I was trapped, a spectator in the final act of my own tragedy.
Isla' s jealousy was a palpable thing, a toxic cloud that filled every room she entered. She watched my every interaction with Elliott, her eyes narrowed with suspicion and hatred. If he so much as brought me a glass of water, her lips would press into a thin, white line.
One afternoon, while Elliott was on a conference call, she saw her opportunity. The guard at my door had been momentarily called away.
"Come with me," she said, her voice deceptively sweet as she entered my room. "There's something I want to show you."
Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh like talons. My weakened body was no match for her. She dragged me out of the house and into a waiting car.
She drove like a madwoman, tires squealing, until we reached the cliffs overlooking the churning Pacific. The wind whipped my hair across my face, tasting of salt and impending doom.
Just as she pulled me from the car, another vehicle screeched to a halt behind us. Elliott. Someone must have alerted him.
He jumped out, his face pale with panic. "Isla! What are you doing? Let her go!"
Isla laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. She grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulling me closer to the crumbling edge of the cliff. Below us, the waves crashed against jagged rocks.
"Choose, Elliott!" she screamed over the roar of the wind. "Her or me! Who do you want? The broken-down has-been, or me and your child?"
He stood frozen, his face a canvas of horror. "Isla, please," he begged, his voice cracking. "Don't do this. Just step away from the edge."
One gentle push. That's all it would take.
The choice was an illusion. I knew who he would choose. I had always known. I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. The pain, the betrayal, the endless waiting-it was all about to be over.
"You," he finally choked out, his eyes fixed on Isla. "I choose you. Of course, I choose you. Just let Elena go."
A triumphant, venomous smile spread across Isla's face. She had won.
She turned her cold eyes on me. "Did you hear that, Elena? He chose me."
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she reached up and unclasped the sculpture from the chain around her neck. My father's legacy. My heart.
My eyes widened in horror. "No..."
She held it up, letting it catch the fading sunlight for a moment, a cruel parody of reverence.
And then she threw it.
I watched, as if in slow motion, as the small, carved piece of marble tumbled through the air, a final, desperate glint of white before it was swallowed by the churning, grey abyss of the ocean.
Everything went silent. The roaring wind, the crashing waves, Elliott's frantic shouts. All of it faded into a dull, distant hum.
The last thread that had tethered me to this life, to this man, had just been severed.
Without a second thought, without a single glance back, I took a step forward.
And threw myself off the cliff.
The last thing I heard was Elliott's scream, a raw, animalistic sound of pure, unadulterated agony that was ripped from the depths of his soul.
