The rescue boat rocked violently against the churning rapids. The rain was a cold, relentless sheet, blurring the world into shades of slate and charcoal. Beside me, the rescue worker was screaming, his voice nearly lost to the roar of the flood. "We can only take one more! You have to decide now!" I hesitated, my hand frozen on the edge of the boat. And then, it happened. Glowing lines of text began to drift across my vision like a digital fever dream. Look at this tragic side-character, one line read. She actually thinks they’re naked because of hypothermia. She has no idea her ‘artist’ husband was busy ravishing his little protege by the riverbank when the levee broke. I can’t wait for the next part, another comment scrolled by. After she saves him, he’s going to realize his true feelings, shove her overboard to make room, and give the girl mouth-to-mouth. Total swoon moment. Give us the drama! The hesitation vanished. My heart, which had been hammering with panic, suddenly went cold and still. I remembered a week ago, finding my husband, Killian, in the corner of his studio. He had his young apprentice, Luna, pinned against the wall. He’d whispered that she was his soul, his muse—that he’d give his very life for her. Luna had looked up with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze and asked, "How would you give it, Killian?" Well, Killian. Here was your chance to find out. I grabbed the single rescue rope and threw it toward Luna. The situation was simple, really: Killian, the prestigious professor, had taken his favorite student on a "plein air" painting trip into the mountains. A flash flood hit. Now, they were both drifting in the freezing water, stripped bare by the current—or perhaps by something else—clinging to a log and dying of exposure. 1 "Jade, please! Think about this!" Parker, one of Killian’s other students who was on the boat with me, looked at me with a horrified, stiff expression. "Luna’s already unconscious from the cold. If we pull the Professor up first, he actually has a chance of surviving!" The floating text in my eyes hissed in agreement: [Parker is such a loyal dog. He knows that if the Professor gets on the boat, he’ll definitely kick the wife off to save Luna!] [Our sweet Luna is going to be so kind later. She’ll inherit Jade’s entire estate after she drowns, and she’ll be so 'devastated' she won't even let Killian touch her on Jade’s death anniversary. What an angel.] I stared at the text, a bitter taste in my mouth. Since when did being a mistress and a gold-digger count as being "kind"? "I know... I want to save him more than anything. He’s my husband," I whispered, my voice trembling perfectly. I stared out at the dark water, looking like a woman whose heart was shattering in real-time. I let my body sway, a fragile silhouette against the storm. "But Killian always said... he said Luna’s father saved his life years ago. He told me he owed her a debt that could never be repaid." I twisted my damp handkerchief, dabbing at my eyes. "He told me that for the sake of gratitude, he would lay down his life for her. He’s a man of honor, Parker. I have to respect his wishes. I have to be a good example for our son!" Without another word, I looped the rope into a lasso and flung it toward the floating, unconscious Luna. We hauled her in. "Jade!" Killian’s voice was a desperate, guttural howl from the water. He reached for us, but the current was too strong. A sudden surge of debris slammed him against a jagged boulder. His head snapped back, and he went limp, disappearing under the frothing brown water. I looked down into the depths, a tiny, dark smile touching my lips. Don't die too easily, Killian, I prayed. The fun is just beginning. Just as he vanished, Parker managed to snag Killian’s shirt with a makeshift hook made from his own belt. He started trying to pull him toward the side. Knowing these people, I knew that if Killian got a finger on this boat, I was going over the side. I quickly grabbed my phone and dialed my mother-in-law, Beatrice. The second she picked up, I let out a jagged, hysterical sob. "Mom! Something terrible has happened!" "What is it?" Beatrice’s voice was already sharp with irritation. "Luna and Killian... they were caught in the flood! They’re saying Luna might not make it! It's horrific!" "What?" Beatrice’s blood pressure clearly spiked through the phone. "Jade, you useless woman! You can't keep an eye on your man, and you can't even look after a young girl? Listen to me—if you don't save Luna, I’ll make sure Killian divorces you tomorrow. You’ll be out on the street with nothing! I’m coming down there now!" "Mom, I’m trying! I’ll do exactly what you say! I’ll save her!" I hung up, a cold satisfaction settling in my chest. I had successfully misled her. She now thought Luna was the only one in the water. "But the boat is full," I shouted to the air, making sure Parker heard. "We have to wait for the next sweep! I hope she can hold on!" The real show was about to start. Beatrice arrived twenty minutes later on a larger, overcrowded rescue vessel. She saw me straining against the rope Parker was holding—the rope that was currently tethered to a submerged, unconscious body. Because Killian was underwater, you couldn't tell who it was. The weight was dragging our small boat down, making it tilt dangerously. Beatrice screamed from the other vessel, "Jade! You murderous bitch! I knew you’d try to hurt her!" "Mom, wait!" I stammered, acting paralyzed by "nerves." "You’re pretending to be a hero, trying to save some 'stranger' while Luna is dying?" Beatrice roared, ignoring the other passengers. "Let go of that rope! Luna’s life is the only thing that matters! Let the other person drown!" Parker tried to intervene. "Ma'am, the person under the water is—" He wanted to say it was his professor. It was her son. But Beatrice didn't give him the chance. She lunged across the gap between the boats and slapped him hard across the face. "I know all about you, Parker! Jade, you've always been a slut. I knew from the day you married into this family you’d try to ruin us. You’re probably trying to save your secret lover right now!" She turned to the men on her boat. "A thousand dollars to whoever ties this brat up and cuts that rope! Save my grandson!" I blinked. Grandson? So, Beatrice knew. She knew Luna was carrying Killian’s child. That’s why she was so desperate. 2 In the face of death, human nature is a fragile thing. Parker was tackled and gagged within seconds. I "struggled" to hold onto the rope, crying out, "Mom, please don't! Killian is—" But Beatrice wasn't listening. "Shut up! I don't care if it's your own father at the end of that rope. He’s in the way of my grandson’s future!" She grabbed a pair of emergency shears from the rescue kit. With a sharp snip, the tension vanished. The rope whipped back, empty. Beatrice looked triumphant. "Get us to the shore! To the hospital! We have to make sure the baby is safe!" Well, Killian, I thought as I watched the spot where he had been submerged drift away. Don't blame me. It was your own mother who cut the cord. 3 Beatrice was so worried about Luna’s "precious cargo" that she moved her to the faster boat, leaving me behind in the rain. The boat drifted for a while in the silence of the receding storm. "Jade...?" A weak, watery voice drifted from the darkness near the bank. I froze. It was Killian. He sounded like he was coughing up his own lungs, but he was alive. "I knew I was too stubborn to die... Jade, get help! Get me out!" He was clinging to a low-hanging willow branch, his body a map of bruises and jagged cuts from the rocks. He was pale, shivering violently—shaking with the final stages of hypothermia. "Oh, Killian!" I cried out, my voice dripping with performative grief. "The boat is full! We can’t take any more! Help is coming, I promise! You have to be strong!" "Jade... pull me in..." "I can't! But remember what you said? Luna’s life is more important than anything. I made sure Mom took her to the hospital first! I knew that’s what you’d want!" I looked around the boat and found some heavy gear—anchor weights and broken metal parts. "Here, Killian! Let me throw you something to help you stay afloat!" I tossed the heavy metal weights directly toward him. They splashed heavily, missing him by inches but creating waves that battered his weakened grip. Without the extra weight, our boat moved faster, catching the current toward the landing. Killian’s face, twisted in a mask of realization and fury, vanished behind a wall of rain as he let out a pathetic, pig-like squeal before being swept back into the dark. He looked so moved, he practically fainted. I really am the most understanding wife a man could ask for. 4 The search for Killian made the local news every night for two weeks. Beatrice didn't care. She didn't even realize he was missing at first; she was too busy hovering over Luna in the private wing of the hospital. The nurses were less than impressed. "She was carrying twins," one whispered to me in the hall. "But if they hadn't been so... active... during the storm, her uterine wall wouldn't have been so compromised. They were caught in the act when the water hit. The bacteria from the floodwater caused a massive infection. It’s a miracle she’s alive, but the babies..." Luna was in a coma, bleeding out from complications. Then, after fifteen days, they found him. Killian had survived by eating whatever washed up in the debris—contaminated, rotting scraps. His wounds had turned gangrenous, untreated and festering in the humidity. By the time he reached the ICU, he was swollen beyond recognition. Even the people in the "bullet chats" didn't recognize him. The "God-like Artist" now looked like a piece of waterlogged meat. Looking at him, I remembered the early days. We were childhood sweethearts. We were happy, once. But then his art took off, and I became the "boring corporate wife" who didn't understand his soul. He found his "soul" in the wide eyes of his students. Last month, when Luna’s ex-boyfriend leaked explicit photos of her online, Killian had stepped up. He’d used his "artistic expertise" to testify that the woman in the photos wasn't Luna. He claimed it was me. His wife. When I confronted him, he had pinned me by the throat against our bedroom door. "Jade, I gave you the dignity of being a professor’s wife. Why must you hurt her? The uploader confessed you hired him out of jealousy. I’m just letting you take the fall to balance the scales. I owe her my life. If she wanted my head on a platter, I’d give it to her." I had slapped him then, with every ounce of strength I had. When I woke the next morning, he was gone, leaving a note saying he was going to a "remote gallery opening." In reality, they were hopping between cheap motels and riverside campsites, playing out their tawdry fantasy under the guise of "art." The doctor in the ICU shook his head. He was trying to find a polite way to say Killian was a wreck. His bones were shattered, protruding through the skin in places, and the infection had reached his marrow. "We can stabilize him," the doctor said, voice low. "But he’s been out there too long. He’ll never walk again. He’ll be lucky if he retains any mobility in his arms." I wiped a stray tear, pulled two hundred-dollar bills from my purse, and tucked them into the doctor’s pocket. "Please, just keep him alive. That’s all that matters." "Jade...?" Killian croaked from the bed. He sounded like a ghost. I rushed to his side, clutching his bandaged hand. I made sure to squeeze just hard enough to find the broken phalanges beneath the gauze. Killian’s pupils dilated. A muffled scream tore through his throat. He shook with agony, but he was too weak to pull away. "It’s my fault," I whispered, leaning close to his ear, my voice a silk-wrapped blade. "Don't worry, darling. You're in such bad shape... I’ll take care of everything. The house, the studio, the accounts. I'll handle it all." Fear flashed in his clouded eyes. He understood. Everything he had built—his reputation, his wealth—was slipping into my hands. "Don't thank me. I did what you asked. I saved Luna first. Sadly, she lost the babies, and you’ll never walk again, but I know you’d make the same choice a thousand times over. After all, we’re one soul, aren't we? I know you better than anyone." His throat hitched. "Jade... you... monster..." He tried to curse me, to ask if I’d done it on purpose. Instead, he just choked on a mouthful of black bile. The floating text was buzzing: [The wife better watch out. Marcus—I mean Killian—is the protagonist. He’ll have a miraculous recovery once the baby is born, and then it’s over for her!] [Wait, today is Luna’s due date! Here comes the miracle!] Right on cue, the sound of a thin, wailing cry echoed from down the hall. "My Luna is a fighter!" Beatrice’s voice boomed in the corridor. She strutted past the door, throwing me a look of pure venom. "She’s given us a beautiful grandson, unlike some barren women I know—" She took the bundle from the nurse and suddenly, the bragging stopped. A heavy thud followed as Beatrice collapsed onto the linoleum. "What... what is this monster? This can't be my grandson! You’ve swapped him!"
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