My Husband Called It a Game, It Killed Our Daughter

Claire's POV

Vera stared at me with those icy, venomous eyes brimming with pure malice.

Jason remained silent, showing no concern. His silence gave Vera all the approval she required.

I turned toward my daughter, bound a few feet away, and dropped to my knees without even thinking.

Vera was unpredictable, and I was terrified she might twist her little game into something even worse. I couldn't risk her changing her mind or adding new conditions, so I did the only thing I could.

I slapped myself so hard that my cheek split open, and I tasted blood.

"I'm the mistress! I'm the mistress! I'm the mistress!" I shouted it over and over again, each word cutting deeper than the last.

But the sting on my face wasn't the worst of it.

No, what really stung were the judgmental, disgusted looks from everyone around—strangers, crew, guests.

They didn't voice anything, but I felt their judging eyes everywhere.

And in that twisted moment, Vera looked more like Jason's wife than I ever had.

She beamed, all sweet and smug like a cat that got into the cream.

"So even the great Claire Robinson can look this pathetic."

Then, like she was handing out some kind of gift, she turned to me and said, all airy and fake-casual, "Alright, I forgive you."

A tiny flicker of hope sparked in my chest.

But she crushed it just as quickly.

"I forgive you," she said, voice suddenly sharp, "but my son? He can't forgive Ayla."

She paused, smiling wider like she was about to announce the winner of a raffle.

"So... I bet $100 million!"

It felt like my soul plummeted from a mountaintop straight into the pits of hell.

$100 million. One hundred shots.

'My Ayla... my sweet, precious Ayla...'

The gunshot split the air like a lightning strike, yanking me back to reality.

I gasped, watching in horror as the man in black calmly raised his revolver and shot Ayla.

My daughter didn't scream or move. She was paralyzed with fear, too terrified even to cry.

"Jason! Vera! You monsters!" I cried out as I threw myself forward, trying to reach her.

But the guards tackled me, pinning me to the floor as if I were a dangerous animal.

Behind me, Vera let out a fake little sob and draped herself on Jason's chest like some delicate flower in need of shelter.

"Oh, Jason, baby! I'm so scared!" she whimpered.

Jason's face turned to stone. He took the revolver from the man and, without blinking, fired five more shots at our daughter.

"No! Ayla!!"

I trembled uncontrollably. My body felt like it didn't even belong to me anymore.

But somehow, by some miracle, Ayla was still alive.

The sixth shot hadn't been fired. It was a blank.

She was still breathing.

I gasped, clutching my chest as if I had to stop my heart from breaking in two. My eyes searched desperately for anything that could help me save my daughter.

And then, behind me, Vera giggled and kissed Jason's cheek, her hands all over him.

"Darling, you're amazing."

Jason's eyes glinted red in the dim light as he scooped her up with ease. He took a few slow steps, then stopped and turned his head just slightly.

"Let's finish all hundred shots," he said in a voice that sent chills down my spine. "I want to see just how lucky my daughter really is. Maybe she really is some monster who drains everyone else's luck."

Ayla heard him.

She realized it then as the light faded from her eyes.

She knew her father wanted her dead.

And even then, she looked at me and tried to smile. "Mommy, don't cry. Even if Ayla dies, you have to keep living, okay?"

She shut her eyes, ready for what was coming.

After Vera and Jason left, the execution continued.

The seventh shot.

The eighth.

The ninth.

Each one hit me like a hammer, but I couldn't look away.

If I even blinked, Ayla might think I'd given up on her, too.

On my knees, I bowed to them again and again, begging, offering anything I had left.

My pride. My money. My soul.

Eventually, bloodied and humiliated, I scraped together just enough pity to make one of them speak to me.

One of the cruise staff approached, his voice low and hesitant.

"Mrs. Robinson, the cruise has crossed into international waters. Unless Mr. Robinson gives the order, we're not allowed to release anyone. We can't risk feeding the sharks, either."

It was a slim chance, but at that point, Jason was the only hope I had.

'Ayla, baby, don't be afraid. I'm coming. I'll save you.'

Even though I could barely move, I dragged myself to the top-deck suite. By the time I reached the door, I could already hear the soft, breathy moans.

"You little minx," Jason growled from inside, his voice thick with lust.

My stomach turned.

While our daughter clung to life, strapped to a torture wheel, Jason was in bed with another woman.

I slammed my fists against the door over and over.

"Jason! I was wrong! I agree to the divorce! Just let Ayla go, please! She's going to die!"

Inside, the sounds stopped.