บททั้งหมดของ The Wealthy Divorcee: บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

The first hour of the flight was uneventful, wrapped in the low hum of engines and the soft glow of cabin lights. Jenna leaned back against the leather seat, Tiara perched on her lap like a content kitten, humming occasionally. Steeve Evans sat across from her, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed ease that came naturally to celebrities accustomed to private jets and first-class luxury.But Jenna was not relaxed.Something in her chest refused to quiet. At first, she thought it was the residue of Rex’s words at the terminal, echoing like a shadow she wanted to shake off. But it wasn’t just Rex. The unease clawed deeper, prickling against her skin like invisible static.The engines had a rhythm, a steady cadence she had learned to ignore in her many flights. Tonight, though, the rhythm faltered, almost imperceptibly. A hiccup. A cough. A whisper of strain beneath the roar.Her eyes snapped open, head tilting slightly as she listened. Tiara’s LED eyes flickered. “Mama,” the AI chi

The ocean was a cruel blanket, stretching endlessly and black under a starless sky. Every wave threatened to pry Jenna’s fingers from the twisted wing that kept her and the others afloat. Salt burned her throat, her lips, her eyes. Her body shook violently, but her mind forced her to stay alert. Survival meant control. Control meant leadership.Around her, the survivors clung to what fragments they could find. Steeve’s breath came in ragged bursts as he fought to keep his head above water, his once-carefree face pale with terror. The two male crewmen struggled against the current, one holding the other by the arm as if refusing to let go. The female attendant’s sobs carried over the waves, sharp and desperate.And others—those who had been with them in the cabin—were already gone. The sea had claimed them, silent and merci

The horizon was no longer a dream but a jagged shadow in the distance, and with each agonizing paddle of their limbs, the survivors dragged themselves closer. Jenna’s arms trembled with every movement, her body screaming for rest, but the outline of land urged her forward. Every wave that rose seemed designed to push them back, every undertow another hand dragging them toward the abyss. Sharks still circled, their fins occasionally slicing the water, reminders of the death waiting below. Terror had not vanished, but exhaustion and hunger had dulled it to something even more dangerous — numb acceptance. The only thing sharper than the cold was the will to survive.Steeve Evans clung beside her, his once-pristine celebrity veneer stripped down to bare humanity. His face was gray with fatigue, his lips cracked, but his eyes clung to Jenna’s determination like a lifeline. His chest heaved with every stroke, but unlike earlier, he no longer asked if they would make it. He simply followed h

The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of copper and ash as the small band of survivors stumbled back to the beach after their tense scouting mission. Exhaustion had carved deep shadows beneath their eyes, but hunger and fear gnawed sharper than fatigue. The ocean offered no mercy, its waves dragging wreckage back and forth with a cruel rhythm. The island’s silence, broken only by distant animal cries, pressed in like a curse.They had brought back meager findings: a handful of strange fruits, bitter but edible, and a few fish caught in the shallow tide pools where wreckage had trapped them. The food was shared among trembling hands, enough to dull the sharpest edge of hunger but not enough to satisfy. It was survival in its weakest form—just enough to remind them how much further they had to fall.On their way back,

The dawn broke with a dull gray light, heavy clouds smothering the horizon. The survivors had barely slept, startled awake by every crack of branches and whisper of waves. When morning finally came, it brought no comfort. The air was thick, sour, and tasted of fear.Jenna pushed herself up from the damp sand, her body aching. Her eyes scanned the huddled forms near the dead fire. She counted instinctively—one, two, three… Her stomach dropped. Someone was missing.“Where’s Ramon?” Steeve’s voice was hoarse, cracking the fragile silence.Heads lifted slowly, confusion rippling through the group. Mateo’s fingers tightened around his rosary, his lips parting but no words coming. A heavy dread pressed down before anyone moved.