Who Dies In 'Distant Shores' And Why?

After the cruise ship strikes a hidden reef, panicked passengers shove me and Kristen Langford into the sea. My boyfriend, Elijah Jensen, is the ship's captain, so he plunges into the water. But instead of saving me, he grabs Kristen and boards the last lifeboat. I thrash and cry for help, but he slaps my hand away. "You can swim. Stop pretending for attention!" Elijah snaps. "Kristen's body temperature is dropping. I have to get her to a hospital!" The waters around me are pitch-black, and his words feel like a death sentence. When the tracking bracelet I always wear is discovered inside a shark, Elijah dives alone into shark-infested waters, searching for three days and nights. In the end, the brilliant captain who once ruled the oceans can never sail again.

Morgan is just trying to survive her cousin’s destination wedding in Bermuda. She didn’t come prepared for emotional damage, and she certainly didn't expect the biggest drama of the weekend to involve a head injury, a blocked tunnel, and a very confusing run-in with three dudes dressed like they raided a Pirates of the Caribbean casting call. Turns out they’re not LARPing. They aren't actors. It's not a fun sunset cruise. No. They’re privateers. Like, real ones. From the actual year 1725. And Morgan? She’s stuck. She may have a pretty good handle on how to survive in the wilderness, thanks to her ex-Green Beret dad. But eighteenth-century ships, sexist crewmates, and suspicious captains aren’t exactly her area of expertise. Especially not Flynn, the broody, grumpy, maddeningly handsome Captain who might rather toss her overboard than deal with whatever disaster she’s brought onto his ship. But as danger closes in, from rival ships to secrets Morgan didn’t mean to bring with her, she’ll have to find her place in this brutal new world. That is… if she doesn’t drive Flynn to keelhauling her first. Or fall for him. Maybe both. Adventure, slow-burn tension, and fish-out-of-water chaos collide in this swoony, high-stakes romantic tale across time. For fans of enemies-to-lovers, pirate drama, and heroines who don’t know when to shut the fuck up.

Because I refused to terminate my pregnancy to donate bone marrow for my younger sister, Selena Malone, she left behind a suicide note and threw herself into the sea. While my mother hated me for standing by and doing nothing, my father blamed me for being selfish and heartless. My husband, Lucian Crowe, sent me to the hospital to abort our child, forcing me to experience the pain of losing someone I loved. In the end, they joined forces to bind me to a sea stack, saying they wanted me to taste what it felt like for Selena to be swallowed by the ocean. By the time they remembered me, my corpse had already begun to rot.

After narrowly escaping death, I ran into the son I hadn't seen in years. He was taller now, and the cold disgust that used to fill his eyes was replaced by regret and desperate longing. He looked cautiously at me as he said, "Mom, I miss your home-cooked meals so much." I ignored him, haggling heatedly with a seller at the farmer's market. He bent down to pick up two onions that had dropped from my grocery bag. "If you were alive, why didn't you come back? Dad said the past is in the past. He forgives you." I let out an irritated click of my tongue, slapped two bills on the counter, and walked off. Suddenly, he yanked the hem of my shirt tightly. "Mom, are you abandoning us? Are you giving up on our family?" I didn't answer. Hearing him say "Mom" was utterly grating to my ears. The moment they chose to save that other woman and leave me during that shipwreck, every last shred of my feelings for them had vanished.

By the third year of my marriage to Daniel Hawthorne, the war had already taken more than it ever returned, and this time it took his younger brother, Thomas Hawthorne. My sister-in-law, Eleanor, collapsed, and in the weeks that followed she tried to follow her husband into death— once with sleeping pills, once by the river beyond the officers’ quarters— only to be dragged back both times, each time clinging to me afterward as though I were the last thing keeping her grounded. I stayed with her, wiped her tears, and whispered that Thomas would want her to live, until the day she received the test results confirming she was three months pregnant, and the grief of losing her husband was slowly softened by the arrival of new life. I smiled too, believing grief had finally loosened its grip. That night, holding my own pregnancy test in my hand and thinking it was finally time to tell Daniel, I passed the study and heard his friend say quietly, “She’s carrying your child. You convinced the doctors to adjust the timeline so everyone would believe the baby belonged to your brother. Aren’t you afraid Margaret will find out?” Daniel didn’t hesitate. “She won’t,” he said calmly. “She loves me. She wouldn’t leave. I won’t let her know.” I didn’t step inside. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I opened the letter I had received weeks earlier— an official deployment order from the international medical corps, assigning me to a frontline war zone— and tapped Accept.

I was a mermaid from the deep sea. Out of curiosity and playfulness, I was caught by a fisherman and endured unbearable torment. Just when I was on the brink of death, Trevon Chapman happened to pass by and saved me. So, I gave up my identity as a mermaid princess, left the ocean behind, and followed him into the human world. For five years after our marriage, Trevon granted my every wish and showered me with affection. I truly believed I had found a safe harbor I could depend on for the rest of my life—until fate struck with its cruelest blow. Trevon's childhood sweetheart had fallen gravely ill, and only a mermaid’s tail could save her. I begged him desperately, but he responded with chilling indifference. "You're only losing your legs. Corinne is losing her life. Are you really that heartless? You're just going to watch her die?" "Besides, you can’t return to the sea anymore. That tail means nothing to you now. From now on, I’ll be your legs." After the surgery, I sat in a wheelchair, running my hand over the empty fabric where my legs should have been, and calmly demanded a divorce. Trevon pulled Corinne into his arms, sneering. "You're neither human nor fish now—a monster. Without me, the only road left for you is death." Yet in the end, when I transformed back into a mermaid and leapt into the sea, his cries and desperate sobs echoed across the waves.