The night air was damp with salt and silence.
Maria stood at the entrance of the abandoned pier, her breath fogging as she exhaled. The wind tugged at her coat, whispering secrets from the restless waves below. Every instinct screamed for her to turn back—but her heart, her fire, her resolve pushed her forward.
This wasn't just revenge.
This was freedom.
From the man who had broken her. From the fear that had haunted every quiet moment since.
She moved with measured steps across the rotting boards, each creak echoing into the mist that veiled the sea. The pier stretched far out into the water, wrapped in darkness and sea spray, as if the world itself held its breath.
She paused near the edge where the wood curled and cracked. The sea murmured beneath her feet.
Then—footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
She turned.
From the mist, a figure emerged—broad-shouldered, wrapped in a black coat, his face shadowed beneath a baseball cap. But she knew. Even without seeing him clearly, she knew.
Chuka.
His voice slid through the fog, smooth and venomous. "You came alone."
Maria didn't respond. Her fingers touched the button hidden in her coat sleeve—Alexander's tracking pin. It was active. He was near.
Chuka stepped closer, and the moonlight finally revealed his face.
He hadn't changed much. Still handsome in a twisted way, though time had carved lines of cruelty into his jaw and eyes. He smiled like a man who thought he'd already won.
"Just like old times, isn't it?" he said.
Maria lifted her chin. "No. Back then, I was helpless. This time, I choose to be here."
He tilted his head, amused. "Is that what you tell yourself? You think that baby made you strong?"
Her eyes flared. "That baby is the best thing that ever happened to me. And you'll never go near him."
Chuka stepped closer again, too close. "I've been watching you for years, Maria. Every smile you gave that billionaire... it should've been mine. You were mine before he ever touched you."
She stepped back, careful not to flinch.
"You stole something from me," he hissed.
"No," she said softly but firmly. "You took something I never gave. And now, I'm taking my life back."
Chuka's smile faltered. He reached into his coat—
A shot rang out.
Chuka stumbled back, screaming. A bullet grazed his arm.
From the shadows behind a shipping crate, Alexander appeared—gun steady in his hand, fury in his eyes.
"You take one more step toward her," he growled, "and I will end you."
Chuka held his wound, snarling. "You don't have the balls."
"Try me."
Sirens pierced the air in the distance. Backup.
Chuka looked at Maria one last time—something wild and broken in his expression—then turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows just before security flooded the pier.
---
Later that night...
Back at the penthouse, Maria sat curled on the sofa, a blanket over her legs, Junior safe in bed.
Alexander brought her tea, his hand trembling slightly as he set it down.
"He's still out there," she whispered.
"Not for long," he replied, brushing her hair from her face. "He's bleeding and scared. We'll find him. And this time, he won't escape."
Maria leaned into his touch.
"I don't want to live in fear anymore," she said.
"You won't," Alexander promised. "Not while I'm breathing."
And for the first time in years, Maria believed that.