Clara.

She was bound to the mast, suspended over the side of the boat, teetering on the edge. The sea breeze made her sway back and forth. She was crying, shouting, "Julian, save me!" her voice fragmented by the wind.

Julian charged forward like a madman.

Two men stepped out from behind the boat, blocking his path.

Julian stopped, breathing heavily. He looked back, grabbed Nina from behind him, and shoved her forward.

"This is the only daughter of the Sinclair family," he said. "I’m trading her for this one."

Nina stumbled back two steps. She turned her head to look at Julian.

The sea breeze tousled her hair. Her pajamas were puffed up by the wind, and her bare feet, stepping on the gravel, were already seeping blood.

She looked at him and asked, "How could you dare?"

Julian sneered. "Your accomplices won't actually hurt you. Stop the act."

One of the kidnappers walked over and grabbed Nina. A rope bound her wrists as he dragged her onto the boat. She was tied to the mast in the exact spot Clara had just been released from.

Julian, however, didn't look back; he grabbed Clara and left.

Clara was still crying, weeping until her body went limp, half-carried by him into the car. The car door closed, the engine roared, and the headlights illuminated a small patch of the pier before fading into the distance, disappearing into the night.

Nina was left tied to the mast.

The sea breeze was fierce, buffeting her body back and forth. The rope dug into her wrists. She looked down at the kidnapper on the boat. "Who hired you?"

The kidnapper didn't speak. He walked to the mast, holding a pair of shears.

Nina watched him. "The Gu family?" she asked. "Or the Zhou family? My father has so many business rivals—you should at least let me know who it is."

With one snip of the shears, the rope parted.

Nina slid from the mast, falling downward. Beneath her was the sea.

She heard the wind howling in her ears, the sound of waves slapping against the hull, water rushing into her ears, her nose, her mouth.

The briny taste, the freezing temperature—she kept sinking, sinking, sinking.

She struggled desperately, but couldn't stop the descent. As she neared suffocation, she remembered so many things.

She remembered that year when she was twenty-four, sitting in the front row, watching him conjure a snowfall on stage.

She remembered saying, "My name is Nina, I’ve taken a fancy to you."

She remembered him riding his electric scooter for an hour and a half just to buy her dumplings.

She remembered the two seconds he hesitated outside the water tank.

She remembered him pushing her out, saying, "I’m trading her for this one."

She closed her eyes. It turns out the ocean is so cold.

Chapter 8

It was already 2:00 AM when Julian helped Clara into the house.

She was still crying, her body wracked with sobs, hanging onto him. Julian laid her on the sofa and went to get the first-aid kit.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked.

Clara held out her hand to show him the marks on her wrists.

There were indeed marks—red, but not even close to breaking the skin.

Julian glanced at them, then looked at her feet. They were red and a bit dirty, but had no wounds.

He picked up a cotton swab soaked in medicine to wipe her wrists.

"Does it hurt?"

"It hurts," Clara whispered, her eyes reddening again.

Julian didn't speak; he kept wiping.

As he wiped, his hand faltered.

The tear tracks were very faint.

Having cried for so long, the tracks should have been distinct lines. But her face was clean, only the corners of her eyes slightly damp.

He continued applying the medicine.

"How long were you taken for?" he asked.

Clara shook her head. "I’m not sure... a long, long time..."

"Did those people say who they were?"

Clara lowered her head, silent for a few seconds, then lifted her eyes to look at him, her eyes pooling with tears once more.

"They said Nina sent them," she said, her voice thin and choked with sobs. "I overheard it secretly."

Julian’s hand froze. He looked at Clara, his brow furrowing.

"Are you sure?"

Clara nodded. "They said it was an order from the Sinclair family—just to give me a little scare."

Julian didn't speak. He lowered his head and continued applying the medicine. The cotton swab rolled over her wrist—once, twice, three times.

Yet, another thought crossed his mind.

When he left, Nina had been dragged onto the boat.

He had been stopped by the kidnappers, pushed Nina out, and said, "I’m trading her for this one." The kidnappers tied Nina to the mast, and he had walked away without looking back.

If this was truly orchestrated by her, if it was just acting, was it really necessary to go this far?

The movement of his hand slowed.

"Think about it again," he said, his voice raspy. "Are you sure they were her people?"

Clara was stunned for a moment, looking up at him. "Julian, you don't believe me?"

"It’s not that I don't believe you." Julian closed the medical kit. "I’m just asking."

Clara looked at him, her eyes reddening again. "Isn't it normal for a high-society heiress like her to toy with people like us? She pursued you so passionately, and now that she doesn't want to play anymore, she gets rid of me—what’s so strange about that?"

Julian was silent for a while.

"Yes," he said. "But she isn't a bad person at heart."

Clara was stunned. She looked at Julian as if she didn't understand the sentence.

Julian didn't look at her. He set the kit aside and stood up. "Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

He walked into the study and closed the door.

The room was very quiet. He didn't turn on the lights, sitting in the darkness for a long time.

He closed his eyes, and the image that appeared in his mind wasn't Clara crying—it was a different face.

That face looking at him in the sea breeze, asking: "How could you dare?"

He remembered her bare feet, stepping on the jagged gravel, her soles covered in blood.

In the darkness, he opened his eyes.

Light from the streetlamp outside filtered in, casting a small, blurred patch of brightness on the ceiling.

He stared at that patch of light, not knowing how long he watched, before falling asleep.

The next morning, he was jolted awake by a scream.

"Julian! This is bad!"

Clara rushed into the study, clutching her phone, her face as pale as a sheet.

Julian bolted upright. "What is it?"

Clara handed him the phone, her hand trembling.

On the screen was a news notification: "Sinclair Group heiress Nina Sinclair missing at the seaside last night; police have intervened in the investigation."

Julian stared at those words, unmoving.

"Julian." Clara’s voice was trembling.

Julian snatched the phone. The news was short, stating that Nina Sinclair had disappeared at the pier the previous night, where bloodstains and ropes were found, suggesting a kidnapping. The police were conducting an all-out search.

He scrolled down.

Below, there was a photo. It was the pier in the daylight. The abandoned fishing boat was still moored against the shore, and a broken piece of rope still hung from the mast.

He recognized that mast—the one he had personally tied her to yesterday.

The phone slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

He stood up and rushed out.

Chapter 9

Julian rushed to the door, his hand just touching the doorknob, when Clara’s voice came from behind him.

"Julian, wait a second."

He turned back to see Clara standing in the center of the living room, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with red.

"Where are you going? To look for her?"

Julian didn't speak.

Clara walked over, stood before him, and looked up at him.

"Julian, have you ever thought—that this might have been staged by her?"

Julian was stunned for a moment.

"The news says she’s missing," Clara’s voice was very soft, trembling slightly, "but you saw what happened last night. When she was tied to the mast, she didn't say a single word. If she were truly terrified, wouldn't she have said something?"

Julian looked at her.

"Those people said they were sent by her," Clara continued, "I heard it with my own ears. She just wants you to be anxious, to make your heart ache, to make you come looking for her. And then, when she reappears, you’ll soften your heart."

Julian frowned. "She’s not that kind of person."

"Not that kind of person?" Clara smiled bitterly. "Julian, haven't you seen what she was like when she was pursuing you? The public spectacle, the giant LED screens—what tactics hasn't she used? When has she ever failed to get what she wanted?"

Julian didn't speak.