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The icy seawater engulfed Liana Wade instantly, the salty sting burning her nose and mouth, triggering violent coughs. She struggled, but her right foot was wedged tight in a jagged crevice among the rocks. "Help! Somebody help me!" "Mr. Young! Mrs. Young is drowning!" a household staff member yelled, rushing toward Logan Young on the shore. Logan's face tightened. He was about to dive in when a more desperate cry rang out from nearby. "Logan, save me! I'm terrified!" It was his foster sister, Olivia Chase. Submerged in the water, Liana's disbelief curdled into sharp betrayal. Logan, whom she expected would rescue her, executed a jarring, immediate pivot and sprinted, without a second thought, to another woman. It felt as though an invisible hand crushed her heart so fiercely she barely registered the pain. Lost in a thick, paralyzing haze, she couldn't summon the basic, desperate instinct to struggle. Had her husband truly abandoned her? Just as panic choked her, strong arms snatched her from the rocks' lethal grip and lifted her to the surface. Liana's eyes fluttered open in a hospital room, instantly assaulted by a skull-splitting headache. Every inch of her skin felt like it was alight, and her throat was so raw and desiccated it offered a terrifying premonition of combustion. A violent fever was clearly running its course. The room was empty, and her husband, Logan, was nowhere to be seen. "Water…" she croaked faintly. Her voice barely reached her own ears. She called again, but only her own ragged breathing answered back. She was parched. Gritting her teeth, Liana mustered every ounce of strength and forced herself upright. The fever spun her head, and every bone ached as if gnawed from within. Three years ago, a single phone call was enough for the hospital director to bring her water personally. Now, for the sake of a man, she had been reduced to this—a helpless woman unable to fetch a single glass of water for herself. How utte
