Dawn split the sky, cold and sharp.

Mandy Lane dragged from the Ferrari's trunk.

Thugs haul her slumped beside me, drugged limp.

Me, her, Emma, three of us. 

On a rusty freighter.

Emma Sullivan barked orders at thugs, cool as ice.

It clicked.

Her "missing" days?

She'd cooked this up.

She leaned close, voice low.

"No moves, Sophie. Bomb's ticking below."

Great!

Sea churned hard, rocking the ship, my head spinning like I'd caught a fever.

A speedboat sliced through the waves, closing in fast. 

Guns jammed into our skulls, cold barrels digging deep.

Alexander King stormed aboard, slamming two cash-stuffed cases down.

"Let them go," he snarled.

The head thug scowled.

"One billion's just this?"

Alexander grinned, icy. 

"Rest's on my yacht. Two hands, one trip."

"Move it," the thug growled.

 "More boxes. or they're done."

I smirked despite the gun.

Yelling at Alexander?

This guy's got seaweed for brains.

Alexander's eyes flicked over us, lingering on Emma, then he turned to haul more cash.

A yacht roared up, waves snarling. 

Ethan leapt off, a black-clad storm.

James trailed, cash thudding onto the deck.
Ethan's eyes locked on me, red and raw, breath jagged.

Tears stung. 

He's here. For me. 

Plain old me.

He stumbled forward, voice breaking. 

"Sophie, you don't remember—but you're mine."

My throat jammed. 

He shouldn't be here. 

That bomb'll kill us all.

Emma's out to torch her own story.

No one escapes a pissed-off heroine.

But maybe Ethan could...

His face darkened, cutting me off. 

"Don't even think it—I'm not leaving!"

I gaped.

Wait—he heard that?

I tested it, heart pounding: Ethan, if you hear me, stomp.

He slammed his foot down, deck shaking.

Tears broke free.

I screamed inside, "Bomb's below! Run!"

He clutched his head, paling, eyes blazing reckless fire.

***

Alexander climbed aboard, glaring the head thug. 

"Your billion's here—let them go!"

Emma's show starts.

The thug pressed guns to Mandy and Emma's heads, reciting, "Alexander, pick one to live."

Alexander glanced at sleeping Mandy, then fixed on Emma.

"Emma," he said, no hesitation.

But Emma's eyes flared—anger, not joy.

What the hell?

The thugs wavered, guns shaky.

Just hired fakes, not killers.

Divers burst from the water ,James leads, tackling the thugs.

Chaos erupted.

I yelled, "Run! Bomb's on—Emma's got—"

Emma cut me off, gun to my temple.

Her ropes? 

Loose props.

"Freeze." she said, icy calm.

Ethan's face twisted, feral, ready to lunge.

Alexander paled.

"Mandy, what are you doing?!"

My jaw dropped.

He called her Mandy?

Fake Emma—real Mandy—gave a broken smile, eyes fracturing.

"You saw through me."

Then where's the real Emma?