He Chose His Secret Wife Over Me

Elfrieda Stewart POV

The water was black.

Not the velvet black that promises sleep. It was the abyssal black that promised only death.

Jaxon had insisted on this yacht trip.

"A peace offering," he had called it, his eyes darting nervously. "We need to show the Commission that the Tate household is stable. Just one afternoon, El. For Denzel."

I went because I was biding my time.

I went because my passport was still locked in the safe at the penthouse, and I needed Jaxon to lower his guard just enough for me to steal it back.

I sat on the white leather deck chair, clutching a glass of sparkling water like a shield. Under the fresh bandages, my arm throbbed in a steady, sickening rhythm.

Across the deck, Janice laughed.

She was wearing a white bikini that left nothing to the imagination, and around her neck, the diamond teardrop necklace glittered violently in the harsh sunlight.

The same necklace Jaxon had bought with money that was supposed to be for our future.

"You look like you're dressed for a funeral, Elfrieda," Janice called out, swirling the olive in her martini. "Lighten up. Jaxon is just trying to be nice."

Jaxon was at the helm, steering the boat away from the Chicago skyline. He glanced back at us, offering a weak, strained smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Everyone getting along?" he shouted over the roar of the engine.

"Perfectly," Janice purred.

She stood up and walked toward me.

The yacht hit a small wave, rocking gently. Janice didn't stumble. She moved with the fluid precision of a predator closing in on wounded prey.

She stopped right in front of me, blocking out the sun.

"You know," she whispered, leaning down so low that the wind carried her voice only to me. "He's going to leave you here. Not on the dock. In the water."

I looked up at her, my grip tightening on the glass.

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," she smiled, her eyes dead cold. "You're bad for business, El. You're bad for his image. And frankly, I'm tired of sharing."

She glanced back at the helm. Jaxon was hunched over the GPS, oblivious.

Janice grabbed my wrist.

Her manicured nails dug viciously into the raw skin of my burn.

I gasped, pain blinding me for a second, and jerked back reflexively. "Get off me!" I yelled.

Janice threw herself backward instantly.

It was a performance of terrifying precision. She flailed her arms, her face twisting into a mask of faux terror as she hit the railing.

"Help! She's pushing me!"

She tumbled over the side. The splash was loud, cutting through the engine's drone.

"Janice!" Jaxon screamed.

He abandoned the wheel. He sprinted across the deck, his eyes wide with panic.

I stood up, clutching my injured arm to my chest. "Jaxon, she jumped," I said, my voice shaking. "She just—"

The yacht lurched.

With the helm unmanned, the boat drifted into a sharp turn, slamming broadside into a wake. The sudden shift in weight threw me off balance.

I slammed into the railing. The metal bit deep into my ribs, knocking the wind out of me.

My feet slipped on the wet deck.

Gravity took over. I went over the edge.

The cold hit me like a physical blow, seizing every muscle in my body. Lake Michigan in October is not water; it is a grave.

I surfaced, gasping for air, the freezing water filling my mouth.

The yacht was drifting away, the engines still churning white foam.

I saw Jaxon at the railing. He had a life preserver in his hand. He looked down at me, his face pale.

Then he looked to the left.

Janice was treading water, perfectly capable of swimming, yet screaming his name with theatrical desperation. "Jaxon! Save me!"

Jaxon looked at me one last time.

I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I just watched him make his choice.

He threw the life preserver toward Janice.

Then he dove in. He swam toward her, his strokes frantic.

The current from the yacht's wake caught me, pulling me under.

I watched the white hull move further and further away, a shrinking spot of safety in a world of blue.

He didn't look back.

He saved the shark and left the canary to drown.

My heavy clothes dragged me down like anchors. The cold seized my limbs, numbing the pain, numbing the fear.

I closed my eyes as the darkness took me.

And for the first time in three years, the relentless music in my head finally stopped.