They Laughed While I Was Dying

Just as my fingers brushed the edge of the emergency kit—

A boot slammed down.

Hard.

It crushed the back of my hand against the deck.

Pain detonated up my arm, white-hot and blinding.

It was her.

“Oh!” she cried, instantly lifting her foot—just enough to look innocent.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see your hand there.”

She blinked rapidly, then frowned, confusion carefully arranged on her face.

“But—” she added softly, tilting her head,

“weren’t you just saying you couldn’t breathe? That you were about to pass out?”

Her gaze swept the crowd, uncertainty trembling perfectly in her voice.

“Then why would you crawl all the way over here?”

“And why would you put your hand under my foot like that?”

Her eyes filled again, tears pooling on command.

“Is this… is this another way to make it look like I hurt you?”

Her words were gentle.

Only I saw it—the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.

She bent down, close enough that her breath brushed my ear—

“How does it feel,” she murmured,“not being able to breathe?”

“You don’t deserve him. He’s mine.”

“When you die here, we can finally be together.”

Her long skirt concealed her movement.

The heel came down again—harder.

This time on my arm.

A sharp scream erupted from behind us.

“Blood—there’s blood!”

Warmth spread rapidly beneath me. I felt it before I saw it—my arm slick, the deck staining red beneath my body.

People shouted. Someone swore.

Adrian shoved through the crowd.

His face drained of color when he saw me.

“Oh my God—” He dropped to his knees, gathering me into his arms, his hands shaking.

“Call the captain. Get medical. We’re docking—now. She needs a hospital!”

I clutched weakly at his sleeve, my vision tunneling, every breath scraping like broken glass.

Then her voice cut in.

“I barely stepped on her,” she said quickly, stunned.

“I moved right away. Where would all that blood even come from?”

She looked down, then gasped.

“Even if you wanted to frame me, you didn’t have to hurt yourself like this.”

“Using your own blood to force Adrian to side with you…”

She swallowed, devastated.

“That’s just… cruel.”

Adrian followed her gaze.

A long, rusted nail lay beside the deck chair, soaked dark red.

His expression changed instantly.

The warmth left his eyes. His arms loosened.

He released me.

“I never thought you’d go this far,” he said coldly.

“Hurting yourself just to drag her down.”

A faint, triumphant smile flickered across her lips—gone in an instant, too fast for anyone else to catch.

“I’ll help bandage her,” she said gently, voice low and reassuring, as though she were the only one still willing to show me mercy.

To everyone watching, she looked compassionate.

Only I could see the challenge in her eyes.

She opened the emergency kit, grabbed saline, and poured it straight onto my open wound.

No warning. Agony exploded through me.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I forced the words out, slow and measured, each syllable tearing at my lungs.

“I am Vivienne Sterling.”

“This ship. These waters. They are under my family’s protection.”

My chest burned as I finished,

“You’re doing this to me on Sterling territory. Do you understand what that means?”

The second the words left my mouth—

Laughter exploded across the deck.

“Vivienne? Did she knock her head?”

“Which Sterling family? The one that controls half the southern routes?”

“Look at her. She can’t even stand.”

“Hypoxia must be making her delusional.”

Emma laughed the hardest.

She wiped at her eyes, then turned to Adrian with a helpless sigh, all false concern.

“Adrian,” she said softly,

“this fiancée of yours isn’t just fragile—she likes to brag too.”

“She’s telling everyone she’s the Sterling family’s little princess.”

Adrian’s face darkened instantly.

“I didn’t know you had a habit of lying,” he said sharply, anger flashing across his features.

“Is this what you do now? Making things up whenever you don’t get your way?”

His voice cut through the air, cold and condemning.

I remembered the very first time we met.

He had said—casually, almost dismissively—that he hated pampered heiresses. Girls born with silver spoons who cried at the slightest discomfort and thought the world owed them everything.

So I hadn’t told him who I was.

I told myself it was temporary.

That once he knew me, not my last name, I would explain everything.

I wanted him to see that not every woman born into money was fragile or entitled.

I never imagined this would be the moment he decided who I was.

The deck erupted again—laughter, whispers, judgment raining down on me from every direction.

And far away, somewhere beyond the noise,

a phone that had been forcefully hung up was about to ring again.

White-hot pain tore through me.

Blood flooded my mouth, metallic and choking.

My body convulsed violently as oxygen vanished entirely.

The world began to fade—

sounds stretching, faces blurring, everything pulling away from me.

Just as darkness was about to swallow me whole—

A voice cut through the chaos like a gunshot.

“Lay one more hand on my daughter,” she said slowly,

“and none of you will ever leave this ship alive.”