Julian lowered his head and looked at her.

That was a face he had watched for over a dozen years; he had comforted her when she cried, seen her laugh, and taken care of her when she was sick.

He had always thought he understood her.

Always thought she was kind, innocent, and needed his protection.

Always thought everything she said was true, that every tear was genuine. He squatted down, looking at her.

Clara’s eyes lit up: "Julian."

Julian looked at her and spoke. "If you hadn't appeared, what would have happened?"

Clara didn't speak.

"Maybe she wouldn't have been drifting in the water," Julian said. "Maybe she wouldn't have fallen into the sea. Maybe she would still be fine right now, sitting at home, waiting for me to go back."

He lowered his head, looking at her.

He raised his hand.

Slap.

A strike across his own face. It was loud.

Clara was stunned; the police were stunned, too.

Slap.

Another strike.

Julian dropped his hand, two red marks on his face. He looked at Clara, his eyes vacant, saying nothing.

The police led Clara out. As she reached the door, Julian suddenly spoke.

"Wait."

The lead officer turned to look at him.

Julian walked over and stood in front of the officer.

"Is there any news?" his voice was raspy. "Is she... alive or dead?"

The officer looked at him and was silent for a few seconds.

"There’s no news yet," he said. "Finding someone in the ocean doesn't happen that fast. We’ll notify you if there’s news."

Julian nodded and turned to walk back to the living room, sitting on the sofa.

The phone rang.

He shoved the divorce certificate aside and snatched up the phone.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

"I know where Nina is. If you want to know, come to this address alone."

A location pin followed.

Without hesitation, Julian grabbed his car keys and walked out.

Chapter 15

Julian drove toward the address, racing against time.

Along the way, he ran four red lights, scraped the side mirror of a taxi, and knocked over a roadside trash can.

He didn't care about any of it; his foot stayed glued to the accelerator. The location pin on his phone drew closer, and his heart hammered faster with every passing second.

Is it her?

Is she still alive?

The car screeched to a halt in front of an abandoned factory. Julian shoved the door open and rushed out, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling. He stumbled twice, steadied himself, and sprinted through the main entrance.

The interior was vast and dim, lit by only a few flickering bulbs. There was water on the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of damp rust. Somewhere in the distance, something was dripping—drip, drip, one beat after another.

He saw a figure standing in the light.

He recognized that face—from the news, from magazines, and from the photos on Nina's phone. The man who had almost married Nina three years ago, the eldest son of the Lu family: Lucas.

Julian’s footsteps faltered for a second, but then he charged forward with even greater intensity.

"Where is she?" he demanded, grabbing Lucas by the collar. "Where is Nina! Where is she!"

Lucas glanced down at Julian's hand, then raised his eyes to meet his gaze.

His eyes were cold, like he was looking at a dead man.

"You're asking about her?"

Before Julian could react, a fist slammed into his face.

The force of the blow was devastating.

He tumbled backward, hitting the concrete floor so hard that stars exploded in his vision. His mouth filled with the taste of blood, and a tooth felt loose. He braced his hands to crawl up, but another kick to his stomach sent him doubling over.

He curled into a ball, his stomach churning violently, and he vomited up everything he had eaten the night before. He lay sprawled in his own filth, gasping for air.

"When you pushed her out," Lucas’s voice came from above, icy and detached, "did you ever stop to think where she might end up?"

Julian couldn't speak. He lay on the ground, shaking all over.

Lucas took a step back and waved his hand.

Several men emerged from the shadows—burly figures dressed in black, their expressions blank. They hauled Julian up from the floor as if he were a dead dog. Julian struggled, but couldn't break free. His wrists were wrenched behind his back, the ropes digging into his skin, causing searing pain.

They dragged him forward.

As he was pulled along, his feet scraped against the ground; one shoe fell off, his socks shredded, and the soles of his feet burned. He lifted his head and saw what was placed in the center of the factory floor.

A water tank—exactly like the one from the theater.

Julian froze instantly.

"No..." he began to struggle, fighting with everything he had. "No! What are you doing!"

No one answered him.

They dragged him to the side of the tank. They hoisted him up, ropes binding his wrists, and hung him in mid-air, directly over the open tank. He looked down at the water below, watching his own reflection swaying on the surface, his heart hammering against his throat as if it might jump out.

"Let me down!" he roared. "This is illegal! The police won't let you get away with this!"

Lucas walked over, stood by the tank, and looked up at him.

The light from behind him cast his face in half-shadow.

"Three minutes," he said. "She held her breath for three minutes. You should try it."

He waved his hand.

The rope slackened.

Julian fell into the water.

He opened his eyes and, through the glass, saw Lucas standing outside, watching him with an expressionless face.

Panic began to set in. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed shut, tightening bit by bit. He opened his mouth, trying to inhale, but only swallowed water. He choked, coughed, and inhaled even more.

One minute and thirty seconds.

He couldn't hold his breath anymore. He started pounding on the glass. Once, twice, three times. He slammed his hands against the glass, pounding desperately, pounding until his handprints covered the surface.

Lucas stood outside, unmoving.

The men behind Lucas were equally still.

They watched him like they were watching a joke.

One minute and forty-five seconds.

Julian’s face was turning a deep crimson, his eyes bloodshot. His pounding slowed, lacking the strength to continue. He felt his consciousness fading, the world before him beginning to sway.

He thought of her.

He remembered her in the tank. He remembered the surveillance footage of her hands pounding the glass—slower each time. He remembered her finally stopping, just drifting there, watching the direction he had run toward.

Suddenly, the water temperature began to rise.

It grew hotter and hotter. His skin began to redden. He struggled in the water, pounding the glass, kicking it, ramming his head against it. But the glass didn't budge, the men didn't move, and Lucas didn't move.

Three minutes and fifteen seconds.

Julian stopped moving.

His body no longer obeyed him. He drifted in the water, eyes open, staring through the glass at the outside world. He saw Lucas’s face, the faces of the other men, the lights, and his own reflection on the water's surface.

He thought, so this is how it was.

So this is what she went through.

So she waited for so long, and I never came.

Julian was hauled out of the water and dropped onto the floor. He sprawled there, gasping for air, shaking uncontrollably, coughing up piles of water.

Lucas walked over and stood in front of him, looking down.

His leather shoe pressed into the ground before Julian’s face. "Three minutes and fifteen seconds," Lucas said. "She waited for four and a half minutes. The water was hot, too. You only lasted three minutes and fifteen seconds."

Julian couldn't speak. He lay on the ground, and Lucas crouched down to look at him. "Do you know why she could wait that long?"

Julian didn't speak. He couldn't move, nor could he talk.

"Because she thought you would come," Lucas said. "She kept waiting. Waiting for the lock to open, waiting for you, waiting for someone to save her. It wasn't until she truly couldn't wait any longer that she finally stopped."

Julian’s tears began to flow.

"Did you come?" Lucas asked him.

Julian didn't speak.

"Did you come?" Lucas asked again.

"You didn't." Lucas answered for him. "You were saving someone else."

"That’s enough," he said. "Let him go."

Julian was stunned. He looked up at Lucas.

"She," he started, his voice raspy beyond recognition, "where is she?"

Lucas watched him without speaking.

"Is she still alive?" Julian tried to brace himself to crawl up, but his hands gave out and he collapsed again. "Tell me! Is she still alive!"