The ocean pulsed black beneath the luxury yacht, a slick obsidian mirror shivering under the weight of synthetic starlight and bass-heavy music. Laughter spilled over the rails. Champagne fizzed. Somewhere, a pop song pounded about love, lust, and forever.
But none of it was real - not for Isla.
She stood at the edge of the deck, glass in hand, hair swept back by the salt wind. Around her, the ...
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