Chapter 4

Chloe's POV

Looking at Mia's smug face, rage consumed every last shred of my reason.

I released Victoria and lunged at Mia like a madwoman, slapping her HARD across the face, eyes blazing as I snarled:

"If she DIES, you're DEAD!"

The deck fell silent.

Mia clutched her face, staring at me in disbelief. "You... you HIT me?!"

"MARCUS!" she shrieked. "Hold this crazy bitch DOWN!"

Two bodyguards immediately rushed over, pinning my shoulders from both sides.

Mia walked up to me, a savage smile spreading across her face. "Fine. Since you're so eager to die, I'll grant your wish!"

She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the left cheek.

CRACK!

Then the right.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"You think you can HIT me?!" she screamed, slapping me with each word. "Think you're TOUGH?!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

One slap after another landed on my face. I could feel the corner of my mouth split open, warm liquid trickling down my chin.

"Still glaring at me?" Mia slapped me again. "I'll teach you to GLARE!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

I lost count of how many times she hit me. All I knew was my cheeks had swollen numb and my vision was going dark.

"That's enough, Miss Sinclair..." Marcus said quietly. "Any more and there'll really be trouble..."

Only then did Mia stop, breathing hard as she stared at me. "Bitch! When Alex gets here, he'll DESTROY you!"

The guards released me. I staggered, barely able to stay on my feet.

My face burned, but I couldn't worry about that.

I stumbled toward Victoria. She'd collapsed on the deck, her face white as paper, her breathing growing weaker—she was barely holding on.

What could I do?

Despair flooded over me like icy seawater.

I wiped my tears roughly with my sleeve, disheveled, looking around wildly, desperately trying to think of any way to save Victoria.

Suddenly, my eyes landed on something on the far wall—a red emergency equipment box. That was the yacht's highest-level alarm for emergencies! Once triggered, everyone would rush to the deck.

This was my last hope.

I suddenly stood up, broke free from the guards with all my remaining strength, and stumbled toward the red emergency box on the wall.

"Think you can run?" Mia sneered. "Dream on! Stop her!"

Two guards immediately gave chase.

I shoved the first guard away with everything I had, raised my arm—and with the last of my strength, smashed my fist into the glass door of the equipment box!

CRASH!

The glass shattered. Shards cut into the back of my hand, but I reached in and pressed the red button inside.

"WHOOP—WHOOP—WHOOP—"

The piercing alarm instantly blared throughout the entire yacht!

Red warning lights began flashing as a mechanical female voice came over the speakers: "Emergency! All passengers proceed to the deck immediately! This is not a drill!"

"You PSYCHO!" Mia shrieked. "Do you have ANY idea what you just did?!"

But it was too late.

The entire yacht descended into chaos. Passengers and crew poured out from everywhere—people screaming, people running in panic.

"What's happening?!"

"Is it pirates?!"

"Find the life jackets!"

In less than a minute, the VIP observation deck was packed with people.

The yacht's head of security rushed over with a team of guards. "What the hell happened?! Who triggered the alarm?!"

The crowd suddenly parted. A man in a dark suit strode through, his face livid.

Alexander.

He emerged from the crowd, coldly surveying the chaotic scene on the deck, his handsome face filled with fury.

Mia immediately threw herself into his arms, sobbing. "Alex! Thank God you're here! These two crazy women snuck onto the yacht, stole my spot, insulted me, HIT me!"

She pointed at her swollen cheek, where there was indeed a handprint. "I had my guards politely ask them to leave, and they went INSANE! They smashed the alarm! Look—she hit me in the FACE!"

Alexander wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his gaze dark as he looked toward me—he hadn't even noticed who was lying on the ground.

He roared in fury: "Who the HELL has the nerve to bully my woman on MY yacht?!"

He strode straight toward me, raising his hand high to slap me. "You're DEAD!"

In that moment, time seemed to freeze.

I looked at that hand about to strike me—the hand still wearing his wedding ring.

Just as the slap was about to land, I suddenly raised my head, revealing my swollen, blood-streaked face.

Alexander's raised hand froze in midair.

The color drained from his face. His pupils dilated in shock.

"Dar... darling..."

His voice was shaking. "How... how is it YOU?!"