Water was everywhere.
It surged up over her head, swallowed her breath, burned down her throat.
Stella Angeles had one fatal weakness—she couldn’t swim.
And now she was sinking in open sea, the salty water stabbing into her lungs.
Early spring seawater was brutal, a cold that drilled straight into her bones. Panic wrapped around her like a tight net, dragging her under.
Up on the yacht’s deck, people were pouring out in a flurry.
Tonight’s gathering was full of the city’s young elites, sons and daughters of powerful families.
Only a couple dozen of them, but their combined net worth could practically buy half of Pingcheng.
And above them all, there was still the Beaumont Conglomerate.
The wind kicked up without warning, waves crashing harder by the second as fat raindrops slapped the surface—within moments, the sky just dumped everything it had.
Two figures in the water were fighting to stay afloat.
“Help…!”
“Help…!”
Their cries were thin, almost swallowed entirely by the roar of the storm.
From the crowd, a tall figure suddenly broke through, all in black.
When his gaze locked onto the two struggling silhouettes below, his usually calm, handsome face twisted with shock.
He didn’t hesitate—not even a second. Didn’t stop to take off his suit jacket. Just dove straight into the freezing waves.
Rain hammered the water, turning everything into a blur. After what felt like forever, the man finally dragged someone up.
“Celeste, Celeste—hey, wake up…”
Brother Henry was gasping hard, soaked to the bone, but he didn’t even notice his own shaking. All his focus was on the unconscious girl in his arms.
No one had even realized there was still another person in the water…
Right then, a panicked female voice suddenly tore through the noisy crowd.
“Where’s Stella? Celeste called her out, didn’t she?! Where is she?!”
“Yeah! Stella Angeles… Stella fell too!”
Someone shouted frantically, making everyone on deck suck in a cold breath.
In the distance, blinding flashes of lightning split across the sky, the rolling thunder rumbling so violently it felt ready to tear the night—and the pitch‑black sea beneath it—wide open.
People turned toward the churning, dark water. Not even a silhouette was left. No sign of anyone struggling.
The woman who had yelled that Stella fell in with Celeste suddenly broke down crying.
“Stella can’t swim!!!”
The man holding Celeste froze up instantly.
Yeah. He had seen Stella just moments ago.
And right as the woman’s desperate cry faded, a sharp splash echoed—another person had jumped in…
By the time Stella was pulled out, Celeste had already coughed up water and come to.
Her tiny, pale face—unclear whether soaked with rain or tears—lifted toward the two men in front of her, trembling.
“Brother Henry…”
The moment she choked out his name, she reached out and clung to his neck, burying her palm‑sized, ghost‑pale face deep into the arms of the man who, despite being drenched head to toe, still looked effortlessly handsome.
The man’s brows tightened for a second. No one knew what he was thinking, but his arm slowly slid around her waist, pulling her in.
“Don’t be scared. It’s over.”
His voice was gentle, threaded with raw relief—like someone who had just dragged themselves back from the edge.
Everyone on deck watched the scene unfold and murmured under their breath, unable to help sighing.
Qi Qi’s gaze finally shifted to Stella Angeles, who had been pulled out of the water last.
Chest compressions. Mouth‑to‑mouth. Over and over—more than a dozen times—before she finally choked and spat out two mouthfuls of seawater.
Her long lashes trembled slightly as she forced her eyes open just a crack.
Her head was spinning so badly it felt like the whole world was tilting, yet she still saw—clearly—the two people beside her clinging to each other in a tight embrace.
She tugged weakly at the corner of her lips, as if trying to smile, but the rain kept lashing against her pale face. A moment later, she slipped back into darkness.
–
Stella barely clawed her way back from the edge.
When she woke up, it was already noon—three days later. The hospital room was empty. Not a single familiar face.
Harsh white light spilled in from the window. She lay there, her clear but drained eyes staring at the dust drifting lazily in the air. Her expression was blank, as if she couldn’t quite grasp her own thoughts.
Eventually, she pushed herself up, moving on pure willpower, and dragged her weakened body to the bathroom.
Afterward, when she noticed the sunlight outside—warm, bright, almost too cheerful—she suddenly wanted to breathe some fresh air.
Her whole body still felt like it was made of cotton, but she just couldn’t stay trapped in that cold, lifeless room any longer.
Behind the hospital, in the small garden.
Stella wore only a thin patient gown. Even with the sun shining gently, the chill lingered on her skin.
She found a quiet corner, stopped, and lifted her eyes. Not far ahead, the gardenia tree was already dotted with tight buds, ready to bloom.
Arms folded, she looked small and fragile, yet something stubborn and aloof clung to her every line.
Her face was stunning—delicate, sculpted—but those beautiful features rarely showed much emotion. It was as if her expressions had long since learned to stay muted.
Even so, the lack of warmth didn’t dim her charm. Just standing there—pale skin, dark hair, like she was carved out of distance and cold—she carried a kind of quiet allure no one could imitate.
She drew in a long breath, and just as her mood finally started to settle a bit, someone stepped into her view.
Celeste Angeles.
She held a steaming thermos cup in her hand. Her long curls fell over her shoulders, eyes bright, smile sweet, and draped over her was a man’s suit jacket.
She stared at Stella Angeles’s cold, beautiful face—those sharp brows, that quiet, untouchable vibe that carried a chill without her even trying. The more she looked, the more something sour twisted in her chest, like jealousy was grinding its teeth.
But when her eyes swept over Stella’s thin, pale frame, Celeste Angeles suddenly curled her lips, a smug smile flashing as she tugged Brother Henry’s jacket tighter around her shoulders, almost like she was showing off on purpose.
Stella’s gaze went frosty. “You really never know when to stop, do you?”
Celeste lifted her brows and walked toward her, heels clicking slowly on the path. The closer she got, the brighter her smile became, her eyes sweeping over Stella’s drained face and fragile posture with a kind of triumphant glow.
She bent down slightly, leaning in so close Stella could hear the smugness dripping from every word.
“Still not giving up? Sis, even the man you loved the most… he’s fallen for me.”
