Amelia woke up to the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against steel. Her head throbbed—she had been ambushed after leaving the restaurant and had lost consciousness. As her vision cleared, she realized she was trapped on the deck of a massive cargo ship, her wrists bound. A few feet away, Leila Ross sat in a similar state, her expensive dress ruined by the spray of the sea.

They were near the railing, the choppy waves of the Atlantic churning just below them. The shore was a distant, unreachable line of gray a thousand feet away.

"Amelia, you pathetic curse! Look what you’ve done to us! Why are you always dragging people into your mess?" Leila shrieked, her voice cracking with terror.

As if on cue, the sky bruised into a dark purple, and a torrential rain began to pour, soaking them instantly. The wind whipped Amelia’s hair across her face, but she remained eerily calm. She turned her gaze toward Leila, whose face was ghostly pale.

"Stop the act, Leila," Amelia said, her voice steady despite the cold. "You arranged this with Ace, didn't you? You wanted a stage to play the victim. So why are you screaming now?"

Surprise flashed in Leila’s eyes for a fraction of a second before it was replaced by a mask of indignation. "You’ve finally lost your mind! Why would I put my own life at risk just to deal with a nobody like you?"

Just then, a man in a dark tactical jacket stepped onto the deck, a smug grin on his face. He seemed entertained by their bickering. "Save your energy," he sneered. "Neither of you is going anywhere until the debt is settled."

Leila turned her tear-filled eyes to him. "Who are you? I have nothing to do with her! Let me go, and my family will pay you ten times whatever she owes!"

"Quiet!" The man stepped forward, his shadow looming over her. "You’re the one Chris Spencer actually values, aren't you? That makes you a very expensive guest."

Amelia watched the exchange, her mind working quickly. She knew this was Leila’s gambit—a staged kidnapping to force Chris into a final, public choice. Leila wanted Amelia to watch as Chris chose his first love over his wife, shattering Amelia’s spirit once and for all. It was a cruel, perfect plan.

Is it worth all this? Amelia wondered. Chris doesn't care about me. He never has.

Meanwhile, on the shore, a sleek black sedan sat hidden among the trees. Inside, Lucius Howard watched the scene through high-powered binoculars, a laptop glowing on his lap.

"Mr. Howard, it seems Miss Tudor has already unraveled the scheme," his assistant noted.

Lucius’s lips curved into a faint, intrigued smile. "She’s smarter than people give her credit for. But being smart won't stop the storm."

"Chris has arrived," the assistant added.

The roar of an off-road engine echoed along the coastline. Chris Spencer climbed out of the vehicle, his tall figure looking imposing even against the backdrop of the raging sea. When his gaze landed on Amelia, standing precariously on the rain-slicked deck, his jaw tightened. A flash of something—anger, or perhaps a rare moment of fear—crossed his eyes.

He didn't hesitate. Ordering his men into a waiting yacht, he sped toward the ship.

Four armed men appeared on the deck as the yacht approached. The man in the black jacket stepped to the railing, looking down at Chris.

"Mr. Spencer! You’re just in time for the finale," the kidnapper shouted over the wind. "A hundred million for each of them. A small price for the women in your life, right?"

"Chris, save me!" Leila wailed, her voice reaching a pitch of pure desperation. "I'm so scared!"

In contrast, Amelia closed her eyes, letting the rain wash over her. She didn't call out. She didn't plead. Her silence seemed to infuriate Chris more than Leila's screams. He hated that even now, she refused to depend on him.

"Make your choice, Spencer!" the man in the jacket challenged, his hand hovering over the release mechanism of the gate. "The storm is getting worse. Who do we bring in first? The one you choose is safe. The other... well, the sea is very deep today."

The air was thick with the scent of salt and tension. Chris stood on the bow of his yacht, his brown eyes locked onto Amelia’s frail, silent form. The choice wasn't just about money; it was a public declaration of his heart, and the entire world was watching.