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All it took was her mother accidentally brushing against the custom–made gown of the city’s
richest heiress–for Sloane West’s mother to be dragged away, limbs broken, and thrown into the
sea.
When she finally pressed charges against that arrogant debutante, the court ruled the girl not guilty.
Because the defense attorney standing by her side was none other than the founder of the city of Riverstone’s most prestigious law firm–Sloane’s husband, Declan Hawthorne.
As the trial ended, the poised, aristocratic man with cold eyes walked away from the defendant’s seat and placed an apology letter on the table in front of her.
“Sloane, just sign it. You wouldn’t want to get sued for slander and end up in jail, would you?”
His tone was gentle and coaxing, but behind the gold–rimmed glasses, his eyes were sharp as a
blade.
Sloane stared at him, defiant tears brimming in her eyes, her voice trembling. “Why, Declan?”
She couldn’t understand.
—
She was his wife. He had loved her so fiercely that he gave up his inheritance and endured being locked away by the Hawthornes–just to marry his former caregiver.
But after her mother’s death, she had begged him countless times, crying. Even this morning, she had knelt at his feet once again, threatening divorce if he refused to drop the case.
And what had he said?
“Don’t push me, Sloane.”
Declan loosened his tie, visibly frustrated. “Vivienne’s different. She chased me for ten years. She
once saved my life.”
“I owe her. I have to protect her–even if that means going against you, my wife, the woman I love
most.”
He tapped his tablet, bringing up a live stream and turning the screen toward Sloane.
“You have two minutes. If not for yourself, do it for your mother. Sign the apology, and I’ll give her
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ashes back to you.”
On the screen: a yacht out at sea. Several bodyguards were holding a mahogany urn over the railing,
ready to let go at any moment.
Tears spilled from Sloane’s eyes. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t even flinch. “Be good. Don’t waste time. Are you really going to leave your mother to drift
in the ocean forever?”
“Declan!” Sloane’s voice was hoarse with rage, her eyes burning. “I want a divorce!”
But in this brutal standoff, he stayed cold. Unmoved.
“Sloane, you’ve got thirty seconds left.”
At that moment, her heart clenched like it had been stabbed.
How ironic. This was the man who once loved her like life itself.
Eight years ago, he’d fallen for her at first sight at the Hawthorne estate.
She was working as his grandfather’s caregiver. Their worlds couldn’t have been further apart— but he confessed to her over and over–again. A hundred times, at least.
He once saw her glance at a patch of bellflowers, and that same night had all the roses in the garden
replaced.
When she twisted her ankle, he booked out an entire hospital floor just for her.
That was also when she learned about the girl chasing him–Vivienne Blake, childhood friend and
heiress of one of the wealthiest families in Riverstone. She’d pursued him for years, to the point of
obsession.
But Declan never once looked her way.
“Sloane, I love only you. So what if Vivienne and I are ‘a perfect social match‘? I can’t stand her.”
The Hawthorne family tried to force him to give up. They stripped his shares and exiled him to a
private island overseas.
He went on a hunger strike for twenty straight days to get the outside world to relent–and it
worked. He moved Sloane’s heart.
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They got married. And for a time, he truly loved her like he promised.
Everything changed six months ago when Vivienne suddenly returned from abroad–and this time,
Declan’s attitude toward her shifted drastically.
He canceled international meetings just to pick her up at the airport. For her welcome–home party,
he stayed out for three straight nights.
When Sloane confronted him, he told her the truth. “A year ago in London, I was in a car crash. Vivienne saved me–she was in a coma for a year because of it.”
“Sloane, I love you. But she just woke up. I need to repay her. Just give me a year, okay?”
At first, she believed him.
Until the night of the party. She collapsed from a flare–up of an old illness and was rushed to the ER.
Declan didn’t answer a single call.
In desperation, her mother went to the yacht where the party was held. But she never came back.
Everyone insisted her mother had taken her own life–that it was suicide, not murder.
Even Declan, who hadn’t been at the scene, believed that.
But Sloane remembered the call she got after the surgery. She’d heard chaos, Vivienne yelling-
and her mother’s screams of pain.
Her mother didn’t jump. She was forced.
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In the six months since, she’d been drowning in guilt and grief, crying herself to sleep night after
night. In the depths of her despair, she finally uncovered a single clue–from a waiter.
She pleaded with Declan again and again, begging him to help her.
But when the case finally went to court, he didn’t hesitate to stand on the other side.
To defend the woman who killed her mother, Declan threatened Sloane with her own mother’s ashes, just to force her to bow her head and apologize.
At that moment, as Sloane looked at Declan, he felt so foreign–like a demon risen straight from
hell.
She was done. Broken. Her fingers shook as she scrawled her name on the apology letter.
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“There. Satisfied? Now bring them back from the boat…”
But her hoarse voice had barely faded when a cry rang out behind her.
Vivienne suddenly collapsed at the defendant’s table, clutching her head. “Declan! Help me–my head hurts!”
In an instant, Declan dropped the tablet in a flurry and bolted toward her.
On the stream, the countdown ended. Without Declan’s orders to stop, the bodyguards opened the
urn…
“No! I signed it! Declan, tell them to stop!”
Sloane screamed, hysterical. But no one listened.
She lunged forward, trying to stop Declan–but he had eyes only for Vivienne. Holding her in his arms, he rushed out, elbow slamming hard into Sloane without even looking back.
She fell to the ground. Her head hit the corner of the table. Tears rained onto the still–playing tablet.
Too late. It was already too late.
On screen, the ashes was poured from the boat–caught by the icy sea wind, they scattered bit by bit, vanishing into the churning grey waves.
A gut–wrenching guilt tore at her heart.
Her mother had always feared the cold. She’d hated the ocean most of all. And now, she’d died in it –and would remain trapped in it forever.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom…” Sloane’s sobs shattered.
Suddenly, she was filled with regret. Regret for ever loving Declan. Regret for ever marrying him.
Endless guilt tolled through her like a funeral bell and her vision dimmed.
As the world went dark, she heard one last thing–Declan’s panicked voice outside the courtroom.
“Vivienne, hang in there. I’ll do anything you want–just stay alive!”
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