Eliza had no idea how long she had drifted in the darkness.
The sputtering roar of a boat motor jolted her awake. She coughed up a lungful of bitter seawater, her mind slowly clearing.
A sharp pain tore through her body, causing her to curl in on herself.
"She's alive! You're one lucky girl!" an older man with a thick island accent exclaimed from above.
Eliza struggled to open her eyes, realizing she was lying on a small fishing boat.
"Don't move. You only survived because you got caught in my net. Your leg is bleeding pretty bad, so I'm taking you to the village doctor right now!" the kind-hearted fisherman urged.
Eliza glanced down at the deep gash on her left leg, the skin torn and pale.
Did it hurt?
She didn't feel a thing. She had died the moment Zander turned his back on her.
Eliza stared out at the ocean with hollow eyes.
She just couldn't understand why she hadn't died.
"Hang in there, girl!" the fisherman called out, still worried.
More than half an hour later.
The boat docked at a remote village. Locals loaded her onto a makeshift stretcher and rushed her to the clinic at the end of the town.
"Doctor! We pulled this girl out of the sea!" the fisherman shouted, wiping sweat from his brow.
The curtain was quickly tossed aside.
Through blurred vision, Eliza saw a tall man in a white coat striding toward her.
His composed, elegant demeanor felt entirely out of place in this tiny fishing village.
It was Julian Lawrence, the man the villagers called Dr. Lawrence.
He was also the heir to The Lawrence Group and Eliza's college senior. But her mind was too foggy to recognize him, assuming he was just a stranger.
The moment Julian laid eyes on Eliza, he froze.
His hands curled into fists.
It was her.
The woman he thought he'd never see again was here, looking like this.
"Dr. Lawrence, hurry!"
The urgent pleas snapped him back to reality.
"Leave her to me."
He gently lifted Eliza into his arms, carrying her into the treatment room and setting her on the bed.
Eliza's breathing was incredibly shallow.
"Let me die."
Julian paused, his gloved hands hovering.
His voice was calm but brooked no argument. "Once you enter my clinic, I'm the one who decides if you live or die."
He cut open her pant leg, his breath hitching when he saw the network of old, jagged scars.
These had to be the remnants of the earthquake from years ago.
His mind raced with questions.
Why did she fall into the ocean? Why did she want to die?
But this was hardly the time for an interrogation. He needed to treat her first.
"If it hurts, scream," he murmured softly, cleaning the wound with practiced care.
Eliza bit her lower lip, breaking into a cold sweat without making a single sound.
Seeing this, Julian reached out and gently gripped her chin to stop her from hurting herself.
"Eliza, stop hurting yourself. You're alive."
A flicker of emotion finally cut through Eliza's empty stare.
"How do you know my name?"

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