---- Chapter 6 Claire' s POV: Aboard the sterile luxury of the yacht, | sat alone on the leather couch, the gentle rocking of the boat a sickening counterpoint to the turmoil inside me. | pulled out my phone. Aria' s social media was already lit up. There was a new post. A picture of her hand, IV tube taped to the back of it, resting in Gabriel' s. His hand, strong and tanned, was clasped protectively around hers. The caption tead: A little scare tonight, but my baby and | are safe and sound, thanks to my amazing hero. Some people will do anything to tear you down, but love always wins. The comments were a flood of sympathy for her and vitriol for me. But it was the silver Zippo, my first-anniversary gift, sitting on the hospital bedside table in the corner of the photo that was the final twist of the knife. Engraved with a love that was never mine. My fingers felt numb as | dialed Gabriel' s number. It rang once, twice, then clicked. "What do you want?" It wasn' t Gabriel. It was Aria. Her voice was smug, dripping with victory. "l m looking for my husband," | said, my own voice a ---- monotone. She laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "He's a little busy right now, Claire. He' s not coming to you tonight. He' s staying right here, where he belongs. With me." She paused, letting the silence stretch, twisting the knife. "It 's amazing, isn' t it? How you can be married to a man for five years and still not be enough to keep him." | didn' t say anything. | just ended the call. My hand, holding the phone, was shaking. | took a deep breath, the cold sea air doing nothing to calm the fire in my veins. | stood up and walked over to the captain, who was waiting patiently by the controls. "Let's go," | said, my voice firm. He looked at me, then back toward the empty dock. "Are we not waiting for Mr. Holmes, ma' am?" | looked out at the dark, churning water, the city lights a distant, mocking glimmer. "No," | said softly. "It's just me." The yacht pulled away from the dock, gliding silently into the black expanse of the ocean. | stood at the bow, the wind whipping my hair around my face, the cold biting at my skin. But | didn't feel it. | felt nothing but a vast, empty numbness. Gabriel wasn' t coming. ---- Of course he wasn't coming. The memories of our five years together played in my mind like a cruel highlights reel-his promises, his gentle touches, his declarations of love. It was all a lie. A long, elaborate, soul- crushing lie. | had been a character in his story, a means to an end, and now that my purpose was served, | was being written out. Just before the first hint of dawn painted a grey streak across the horizon, | took out my phone one last time. | checked his number. Switched off. He hadn' t even tried to call. With steady fingers, | navigated to a pre-drafted email. Two files were attached. | scheduled it to be sent to every major news outlet and gossip blog in the country in exactly one hour. The first file was a full, unedited recording of my phone call with Aria. The second was a time-lapse video. It showed me, in my studio, painting the 'Tempest' from a blank canvas to the final brushstroke. | walked to the stern of the boat, leaving my phone, my purse, and my jacket neatly folded on a deck chair. | took one last look at the horizon, at the world that had taken everything from me. Then, | jumped. The icy shock of the water was a brutal, cleansing slap. It was ---- the end of Claire Avila. And the beginning of my revenge. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!