Uncharted 4 Elena Fisher นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Elena had been hired on as deck crew only three days ago, and desperate for adventure after quitting her dead-end waitressing job back in Miami. At twenty-four, with long dark hair usually tied in a braid, she thought she knew what she was getting into. Luxury yacht. Rich guests. Hard work under the Caribbean sun. She had no idea the real storm would be Captain Marcus Kane.

"Come with me. We promised. We promised we’d get those burgers!" "I am making it up to you, Jacintha," Elena whispered, her eyes shining with absolute love and sacrifice. "Find them for me. Please." With one final, powerful heave, Elena threw her entire body weight against the bow of the boat, pushing it off the shallow sandbar and into the deep, pulling current of the dark ocean. "ELENA! NO!" Jacintha’s heartbreaking scream echoed across the water as the motorized boat caught the current, its propeller spinning as it began to drive rapidly away into the dark, open sea.

“The fourteenth is mine by design. Surrender the family or I sink every vessel.” Damien roared and charged the final line. In the chaos, I saw her — Elara herself, stepping onto the dock with a small team. I raised my gun. “It ends here.” The shot rang out. Elara staggered, wounded. Her team returned fire. Damien tackled me to safety as the dock exploded. We made it to the subs. The fleet dove as the atoll burned above us. Safe for now. But as we surfaced at a new hidden base days later, Elena delivered the final blow.

Just nodded once and disappeared to pack the few things I had brought for her. The yacht waited at the private dock below the cliff. Sixty feet of sleek black and chrome. Bulletproof glass. Hidden compartments stocked with enough firepower to start a small war. Crew of eight. All loyal. All silent. Elena stepped aboard barefoot. Wind caught the hem of her sundress—simple white cotton I had chosen because it would look perfect against her skin later. She walked straight to the bow, leaned against the railing, and stared at the horizon like she could outrun whatever was coming.

“They reveal the motives, the manipulations, the betrayals I’ve endured… and the ones I’ve committed, consciously or otherwise.” Elena’s pulse quickened. Secrets had always been the currency of their lives, shaping actions, creating distance, and fostering misunderstandings. Tonight, the promise of transparency stirred a cautious hope within her. She moved closer, examining the files, each labeled carefully: Marcus Blackwell, Vivienne Roth, Julian Crane, Elena Harper—her name alone igniting a complex mix of anxiety and anticipation.

Paul said, “Alexander Hart remained unseen, uninterviewed, and unphotographed. He refused public recognition, because Hart Capital was never meant to be his legacy.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it. “He waited,” Paul said, smiling slightly, “for the right moment, the right time and the rightful owner.” A murmur rippled through the crowd. And that’s when hell chose its timing. A sharp splash broke the moment. Water spilt down Elena’s front, clear against the deep fabric of her dress. I turned sharply. Isabelle stood there, eyes wide, glass dangling loosely from her fingers. “Oh my God,” she gasped, already stepping forward. “Elena, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“And your mother. Pictured together. Look!” I take the photo, and the world seems to tilt on its axis. The image is old, the edges beginning to yellow. There she is—Theresa “Tess” Nalila, decades younger but with the same cold, calculating eyes. She’s standing in what looks like a military shipyard in Naples. Her arm is linked with a broad-shouldered Black man in a high-ranking intelligence uniform. He’s laughing, looking genuinely happy. Behind them, partially obscured, is a younger Lydia Moretti and a woman I recognize as a younger Director Eleanor Hart.

She was instinctively holding her breath because she could smell the pungent stench coming from her shirt! Meanwhile, Abel was sitting next to Niamh. Seeing how much Beau loved his younger daughter, he nodded in satisfaction. He wasn't that worried about Elara's divorce from Harvey. As long as one of his daughters could capture Beau and Harvey's hearts, then the Jones family could still rely on the Fishers. When Merida saw her grandparents and Niamh, she stood there with a serious look. Then, Elara asked, "Where's Prof. Fisher…" Harvey said nonchalantly, "Uncle Leonard has an emergency to attend to…"

She stepped forward, her chin lifted in quiet defiance, her eyes locking onto Richard’s with unshakable determination. “I’m Elena,” she said, her voice even, controlled. “And I have proof that Adrian is the best choice for this partnership.” A flicker of surprise crossed Adrian’s face, though he masked it quickly. The room was silent for a beat before Richard scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, this should be interesting.” Elena ignored him. With precise movements, she walked toward the screen at the front of the room. She connected a flash drive, and within seconds, rows of financial data and internal reports flashed onto the large screen.

Elena was still mad at me and I couldn't blame her for it. I flashed a polite smile at the nurse, relunctantly handing her the items in my hand as I dragged my feet out of the room feeling crushed completely until my ears caught the name I would remember in seven lifetimes. “....Elena Broadway, married to Adrian Hawthron has just been seen commiting a shameful act with the top five business man in the city, Elvis Butcher”, announced the news reporter while a video played on the screen.