Georgia looked around, scanning the sea. "There has to be a patrol boat… or just any boat… something."
But there was nothing. Just the rhythmic slap of water and the lonely glow of the moon.
Still, she clenched her jaw, determination rising like fire in her belly.
'You thought I'd drown tonight, Nancy? You thought you could end me that easily?'
She tightened her grip on her floating contraption, fury fueling her body against the cold.
'No. I'm not dying out here!'
Georgia kept her eyes locked on where the cruise ship was. Then, slowly, she turned away from it.
If the ship was heading farther out to sea… then the port had to be behind her.
The direction they came from three hours ago.
And if she wants to live, if she wants to see Katie again, then that's the way she needs to swim.
With every aching stroke, every ragged breath, she propelled herself through the black water, dragging her makeshift float with one arm. Her limbs burned. Her lips were cracked. The salt gnawed at her eyes. But she didn't stop.
Every time her body screamed at her to quit, her mind screamed louder: "Katie is waiting. Katie needs you." Her orphan niece needs her.
The little girl's smile… her laugh… the way she held Georgia's pinky with her tiny hand, trusting the world would be okay as long as her aunt was there.
'I promised her I'd never leave her. I won't break that promise!'
Then, a glint. She blinked. Thought she imagined it. But there it was again, a light.
A warm, flickering orange and yellow light against the dark blue of the sea.
'Is it a boat? The port?' Georgia's heart lurched with fragile hope. She blinked hard to clear her eyes, letting her body float as she stared.
Yes. It was there. Far, but real.
Her legs felt like iron, her arms like wet rope—but she clenched her teeth and began paddling harder, kicking against the fatigue. Her breath came in shallow pants. Her teeth chattered. Her muscles burned.
But she swam.
Stroke by stroke.
Wave by wave.
The light grew larger. Clearer. Like a candle flickering in the storm.
"I'm coming," she whispered. "I'm not dying out here. Not tonight."
Georgia's arms moved like they were filled with lead. Her legs kicked slower, weaker, until they barely stirred the water.
The light, that one small light, she squinted at it through salt-blurred eyes. It could be a boat. A lighthouse. A cottage lantern on a distant islet or just her imagination. But it was hope.
And that was enough to keep her moving.
Until it wasn't.
Her breaths came in sharp, wet gasps, the cold digging deeper into her bones. Her teeth wouldn't stop chattering. Her fingers barely had the strength to hold onto the makeshift float.
Still, she tried, over and over. Until even her thoughts started to fray at the edges.
That light... it wasn't getting closer. She was just getting slower and weaker.
Her head sagged against the float as she clung to it like a child clings to a teddy bear in a nightmare.
"I'm so tired," she whispered. "Please… be a boat. Please… save me… Someone..."
And then—darkness. The waves rocked her gently, like the sea itself was singing her a lullaby.
********
Hours later…
"Captain!" the third mate's voice cracked through the quiet hum of the bridge.
Captain Nicholas Knight didn't look up immediately. He was adjusting a dial on the radar system, eyes laser-focused, jaw set in that permanent expression of grim concentration that earned him more enemies than admirers on his ship.
His voice was cool, clipped. "What now?"
To most, he was just another rich heir playing sailor—a silver-spoon captain with a gleaming last name and a fast-tracked career.
No matter how sharp his mind or steady his hands, the shadow of the Knight Group of Companies loomed larger than any of his achievements.
Everyone thought he was just keeping the captain's seat warm until Daddy finally handed him the keys to the empire.
But Nicholas didn't care what they thought.
He cared about precision, responsibility, and control. And right now, the bridge was calm until the third mate shattered it.
"I—I think there's someone floating in the water!" the young officer stammered, his binoculars locked on a dark spot in the moonlit waves.
That made Nicholas pause.
He turned slowly, giving the junior officer his full attention for the first time. "Where?"
"Two o'clock, just beyond the swell. I saw movement. It looked like… like a person, Captain."
Nicholas stepped beside him without another word and snatched the binoculars. The cold metal pressed against his face as he adjusted the focus. His eyes scanned the shimmering ocean, tracing the silver ripples under the glow of the full moon.
Then he saw it.
A lump. Barely distinguishable. Limbs slack. Something pale bobbing—arms? Face? The moonlight reflected on something pink and shiny.
A jolt of ice shot through his spine.
"Sound the man overboard alarm," Nicholas barked. His voice cut through the bridge like a whip. "Helm, twenty degrees starboard. Slow to half speed. Get the rescue team ready—fast."
"Yes, Captain!"
The crew snapped into motion. Sirens began to wail. Deck lights flooded the night.
Nicholas didn't wait. He tossed the binoculars aside, spun on his heel, and marched toward the deck, barking orders into his radio.
'Who the hell is out there?'
They were miles from the nearest island, and no one should be in these waters—unless they'd fallen. Or been pushed.
He narrowed his eyes against the binoculars, gripping the railing as they approached the drifting figure.
There. Floating. A woman! Barely conscious—if conscious at all. She was clutching something, her arms draped over what looked like… a pair of pants stuffed with plastic bottles.
Nicholas swore under his breath. 'Smart. Desperate, but smart.'
"She's slipping—!" someone shouted from the deck.
Nicholas didn't hesitate.
He dropped his radio and bolted for the railing. "Fuck this!" he growled under his breath. "I'm not letting her die."
And then—he jumped.