Chapter 3

That afternoon, Celeste told me she had to go out alone and that I shouldn't follow her.

I let her think I had no idea what she was up to.

Not long after, my phone rang.

"Anders Marsh?" a voice said. "People who don't pay their debts have to pay some other way. Celeste Ross is in my hands right now. If you don't want her dead, get to this address."

By the time I got there, breathless, I could see Celeste's back. She was tied to the railing of an abandoned cargo ship, her hands bound behind her.

The kidnapper flashed me a nasty grin.

"I gave you twenty minutes. You're too late. She's out of chances."

She cut the rope right in front of me.

Celeste, wrists still bound, dropped straight into the sea.

My eyes went wide. A second later, I was moving without thinking and threw myself in after her.

The water was ice, a cold that cut straight to the bone, and everything went dark and hazy in front of me. Through the murk, I caught a glimpse of "Celeste's" shape wriggling free of the ropes, swimming for shore with easy, practiced strokes.

I laughed bitterly to myself. Whatever stand-in Celeste had hired, they hadn't even bothered to make her look the part.

But I jumped in anyway, without hesitation. Because I was betting on a possibility. Staking my life on it. I was betting I could win.

The water was so cold that I lost my strength fast, sinking slowly toward the bottom. Just as I was sure I'd lost the bet, a shape hit the water beside me with a cry, and dove down after me.

I forced my eyes open one last time. The final thing I saw was an expression I'd never once seen on Celeste's face before—panic.

…

When I woke up in the hospital, cold had settled into every part of me, all the way to the bone. Celeste stood by the bed, looking down at me while I drifted in and out, her expression a tangle of things I couldn't read.

"Anders, do you really care about me that much? Enough to throw away your own life to save mine?"

That was the moment I opened my eyes.

We held each other's gaze for two seconds. Then I turned my head away.

My voice came out weak but certain.

"Celeste. Let's end this."

Her gaze sharpened. "What did you say?"

I looked away from her.

"Your eyes have been fine for a while now. Why lie to me about it? If you don't need me anymore, I'll go on my own. If you don't like me, just say so. I'm not the type to cling to someone who doesn't want me."

Celeste's mouth opened, then closed. "That's not what I meant."

She stared at my pale face like she'd come to some decision.

"Anders, I'm pregnant. I wasn't planning on keeping it, but I've changed my mind. Let's get married."

My eyes went wide with shock. I did the math in my head—it had to have happened the first time we'd been together.

My eyes stung, and I started to swing my legs off the bed.

"If this is my fault, then I'll take responsibility for it, all the way through. I'll check myself out right now and go find work. I swear, until the day I die, I won't let you or our child go without."

Celeste stopped me and pulled out her phone. A few quiet seconds later, my own phone buzzed with a text.

Five million dollars, deposited.

Celeste walked over and pressed my hand to her stomach.

"You don't need to do any of that. Our child is going to be the happiest child in the world."

I listened to her lay everything bare, my face full of shock. What no one could see was my hand shaking under the blanket—not from fear, but from something closer to triumph.

I'd won the bet.

I moved into Celeste's family estate. The Rosses were even wealthier than I'd imagined—even a random decoration in that house cost more than I could have earned in a lifetime of work.

Cared for around the clock by household staff, Celeste gave birth safely a few months later. Her parents had reservations about me at first, but the moment they laid eyes on their cute, healthy grandson, their attitude softened. They wired me a hundred million dollars to cover my day-to-day expenses.

The moment our son was born, several properties were put in his name. Celeste stayed busy, so she left me to manage them on her behalf.

I counted the balance in my account night after night, so pleased I laughed in my sleep.

When our son was seven months old, I made a trip back to the old house to deal with some things I'd left behind. On my way out, someone grabbed the back of my shirt and slapped my face.

"Where the hell have you been! Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?"

It was my mother. Her hair was a mess, her face filthy, and she glared at me with pure hatred.

Behind her stood my father, just as disheveled, and Dylan.

Dylan looked me up and down, and something flickered behind his eyes—shock, and envy. Then he stepped forward, grinning, and threw an arm over my shoulders.

"Hey, big brother. Did you land yourself a rich girlfriend or something? Guess your luck's just better than mine. I kept getting stuck with a poor, blind woman who wouldn't stop clinging to me. Good thing I dumped her a long time ago.

"Now that we've survived our brush with death, why don't you introduce us to my sister-in-law?"

He ran his fingers over the expensive watch on my wrist, practically giddy.

I knew exactly what he was doing. Trying to take something else of mine. He'd been doing it my whole life.

My cheek still burned from the punch. I looked past them, over their shoulders.

Celeste had just pulled up and parked, arriving in time to catch every word of it.

I let one corner of my mouth curve up.

"No need. She's already here."