AARON WALLACE POV

I rub my temples, a burgeoning headache coming on as Liv exits.

My phone buzzes with a call from my dad. Knowing he's likely about to dramatically vent, especially with the news of Liv and me on TV, I reject the call and go after her.

I do not understand the reason behind this boundary she limited me to. I've been nothing but understanding of those directives, even though there were no descriptive terms for why there needed to be a barricade between us. For her to react so intensely to the assumption of me seeing her naked was surprising. What do I need to do for her to believe I want her like I am dying of deprived air?

This part of the yacht houses the boys' cabins and the saloon where last night we played truth billiards after the girls had all fallen asleep in their cabins. The four of us typically play the same game, and if someone fails to respond to a question, they must take a drink as a consequence.

Mason is already on the deck, wearing a snug black turtleneck and joggers, his only company is his signature black coffee; the rest of his meal remains untouched on the table. His hands move deftly across the board canvas before him, transforming it into a painting whose ultimate direction eludes my understanding. This talent of his, however, was one that was squished and wadded in his childhood, allocated instead to the gemstones division of the family business. Dane, on the other hand, was the one who pursued the art that he never desired, eventually taking charge of the galleries and museums as our grandfather had meticulously planned.

He looks up and notices me. "Didn't expect you up this early."

Last night, my strong instinct to dodge the boys' questions about my relationship with Liv led me to consume quite a bit of alcohol, which is partly responsible for my severe headache today.

"You saw Liv?" I ask, unable to alleviate the tension on my face, and his suspicious eyes widen slightly.

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

Simply put, I don't know.

My mouth hung open, scrambling for words, before I could respond, my name was shouted in a gut-wrenching scream, shaking me to my core. A chill runs down my spine. I know that voice too well that anyone would say it's an addiction. It comes from below.

"What the fuck?" Dane, stepping out, stares blankly, as does Mason, before I gather myself and rush down the staircases.

Kyle and the girls are crowded on the swimming platform, craning their necks to see something I can't. Pushing through, I see nothing but the white foam from the yacht's stern as it moves at a fast speed.

My eyes shifted between their apprehensive faces, my heart suffocating, almost ceasing to beat.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?" My voice erupted devoid of familiarity. There's a demon inside me, clawing its way out of my skin, willing to do whatever it takes for what it wants, and that is to know Lively is fine.

Mallory and Meadow jump back from me.

"Kyle?" Mason pushes him forward, and it dawns on me that he's here.

I pounce on him in a single step, gripping his throat tightly, shaking my head wordlessly, the demand clear in the darkness of my eyes.

"Aaron?" Someone yells.

He pushed me, usually with enough pressure to dislodge me, but this time I didn't budge. He was choking, thrashing his hands to break through. Something has possessed me, and I'm not sure what I'm capable of.

"Stop, please! She's in the water. They pushed her!" A girl's voice behind me loosens my grip, and I stumble back with creased brows to Uncle Steven's terrified stepdaughter.

A brick-like thud sank into my stomach, and my heart stopped to a solid end, indicating to me that Liv was drowning.

"She—she can't...." Unable to finish, my legs propel me towards the platform.

Panicky voices called out my name, someone shouting for the captain to stop the yacht. My ears filled with water, the bubbling sound drowning out the world around me.

It was too dark to dive without equipment, but compared to Liv underwater, clad only in lingerie and whatever dire situation she might be in, I couldn't muster any complaints, only seething anger at myself. If only I hadn't let her leave the cabin. If only I had shouldered the blame. None of this would have happened. But I let her walk away. Her scream echoed hauntingly in the darkness. I was choking on water, but I refused to surface without her.

A firm restraining grip wrapped around me from behind, and I desperately hoped it was her, though a rational part of me knew it had been too long for her to remain conscious. My eyes nearly closed as I lost air, I turned my head slightly, searching for that glimmer of hope, however faint. It wasn't Liv—it was Keenan. My struggle was futile as we swam toward the sunlight until our heads broke the surface.

"Do not touch me," I gasped, my chest heaving with a hurt akin to carrying the weight of the mountains surrounding us. I struggled to break free, but he continued swimming towards the yacht, his single arm restraining my movements with surprising strength. "Let me go, Keenan," I pleaded, a lump in my throat burning so intensely it felt like it might combust through my skin.

Some crew members were at the stern of the yacht, and they quickly helped him pull me out. The first thing I did with my free hands was shove them away.

Keenan climbed over immediately, approaching me as if I were a rabid dog that needed to be captured.

"Mister Wallace, I need you to calm down, or we'll have to sedate you for your safety."

What's gotten into him? He, of all people, should know how much Liv means to me.

"I swear to God, if you come close to me, I'll kill you," I seethed, glaring at him with a searing sensation of betrayal. If I spoke further, tears threatened to spill, and his neck would feel the weight of my knee.

He stared at me with silent eyes, seeking my understanding, egregiously overshadowing my hysterical pleas for help. The relentless ticking of the clock drove me to madness; time was not on my side and if I was too flawed to deserve its mercy, then let it be for Liv's sake—she deserved so much better. She had suffered too much because of me, and once again, I am letting her down. She called out to me, and I... I was useless.

All this felt like bleeding out on a foggy deserted road late at night, with no one there to witness or save me until I was drained of the last drop of blood, left pale to be discovered by the first car passing at sunrise. He was delusional if he thought my life mattered now if God forbid I lose Liv.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay," Emersyn envelope me in a hug while standing between us. Fuming, tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. "They found this." She handed me a blue silk robe, a garment I knew all too well because it was the last thing I had seen Liv wear. My hand trembled as if it were the heaviest thing I had ever carried. It scorched my soul with an unhurried, agonizing pain, like blue flame.

This can't be happening. What will I do? What will I tell her family? What will I tell myself?

How could she slip through my fingers like this? I knew my family despised her, and I felt she was safer with me by her side. I anticipated our marriage, believing I could heal and shield her from the toxicity they bleed. How did I allow her to fall into their trap when she was so close to me? I can't bear to lose her. God, please don't let her slip away from me again, as I mistakenly allowed it to happen last time. She's my last chance at love and happiness, the vibrant color that restored purpose to my once-gray existence. I simply yearned for a second chance, and the thought of losing her was more terrifying than drowning in dark waters, gasping for breath and life. I know what I want, and I can't bear to lose her now.

God, please hear me. I will gamble with everything, trade my next breath for her to live. This can't be the consequence of my misdeeds, the punishment for my wrongs, when an innocent person is at risk as collateral damage. Why her? Haven't I been punished enough? But if there is more to come, let it be in any other way besides causing Liv any more hurt. I just want her. What is wrong with wanting just one thing in a life where I've never once won anything for myself? What's wrong with wanting a wife I love? I could have nothing more—no child, no heir—and when I die, I will be buried with my legacy. But just to have her, I am willing to serve a lifetime of punishment for my past actions. Take my offer, and let me be punished, as long as I can hold her through it.

"Four minutes since the fall." A man's voice called out, and I knew we were running out of time. I turned to face the vast, endless lake, my heart pounding, feeling as if it was struggling to keep going. Emergency rescue teams were scattered everywhere, probably using all the tenders and lifeboats from the yacht garage. Orange lifebuoys dotted the water where the yacht had passed before stopping, and men in diving suits were constantly going in and out of the water. The scene resembled a horror movie I never imagined could become real. Chills ran through my bones, exposing the rawness of my emotions. My knees weakened, and I couldn't stand any longer. I went plummeting into a squat, with Emersyn coming down beside me. Her embrace did little to make me feel better. Drops from my wet hair mixed with beads of sweat on my forehead, dripping into my eyes.

"I didn't mean to push her. I—I was only pulling her back. Her—her robe came loose, and she lost her balance. I didn't mean to." Meadow mumbled in a panic, her words processing in the back of my mind.

"I'm calling Aunty Kathleen. She—she'll sort it out." Mallory said, and my brows furrowed.

Sort it out? Sort what out—Lively's death?

I could barely breathe. Fear had soaked into me, now dangerously clenching my throat.

"We found her!" Someone yelled through the speakers, those three words of hope making my slumped shoulders tense and bringing me to my feet.

My heart was thumping harder than ever if that was even possible. She was brought over, wrapped in a silver thermal blanket, with a bag valve mask over her face, one of the rescuers compressing it. Her angelic, serene face had closed eyes, shut lips, and a nose that wasn't breathing.

This was a nightmare, one from which I desperately needed to be pinched awake.

The doctor arrived swiftly with a defibrillator. They placed her gently on the ground, surrounded by a quietly anxious crowd. The thermal blanket was carefully peeled aside, revealing her pale, lifeless skin. My gaze lingered down to her abdomen, and then I lost track of the following moments at the scar I saw until her body jerked from a powerful shock. Startled, I swallowed hard against my suddenly dry throat and blinked wide-eyed, focusing back on the electrical current surging through her unmoving body. It continued. Each press of the defibrillator on her chest was accompanied by a desperate hope that she would awaken. With each failed attempt, it felt like my entire world was being dragged down with her. I felt like I had failed her. I know I did.

It continues endlessly, time passing like a dreary day of persistent rain, leaving us in uncertainty. As the tired doctor begins to slow down, almost ready to give up, I insist on continuing. I don't care if we have to stay here until tomorrow morning; if it means bringing Liv back to life, I am willing to wait. She could take her time napping like Sleeping Beauty; I refuse to give up hope. Sleeping beauty didn't die—certainly, my Liv would not.

The nervous doctor, hands shaking, administers a shot to her chest when there are still no positive results after several more agonizing minutes.

"Will she be okay?" Isla mumbled in an atmosphere pervaded by held breath.

The repeated application of the shock pads, which had so far proven futile, left redness around her exposed chest. The reality that she was slipping away gripped me; I could feel the relentless ticking of the clock in the back of my mind, sending chills through my bones.

"What—what is it?" My voice was hoarse.

The doctor looked up. "There is no response."

Breathe! Composure!

He shouldn't look at me like it was over.

"Uhm... Then keep going until there is." I thundered. He stared back at me like I was insane. "I will appreciate it if you follow the goddamn order and do your job," I yelled unrestrainedly, every muscle in my body tensely tightening in a knot.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Sir, there is very little I can do here. I advise moving her to the hospital now for more resources. She needs ventilation, cardiac support, and perhaps neurological care at this point."

I balked.

Keenan immediately proceeded to arrange air transportation on the phone, while the doctor's words reverberated in my hammering brain like the ringing of brass in a neglected warehouse.

"Neurological?" I gasped barely above a whisper, unable to move my body.

"At this moment, we should be prepared for anything. Typically, four to five minutes underwater, the consequences can be severe as the body may start to shut down. This is why—"

His voice faded in my hearing. I stared back at Meadow among the crowd of my families and our employees, having a hard time believing the actuality of this situation. She fell to her knees, sobbing.