Prison For Love, Drowning In Deceit

Alexis Brandt POV:

The next morning, Austin arrived promptly. He saw me in the red dress, the one he loved, the one I hadn't worn in years. His eyes softened, a distant look in them, as if he was seeing the girl he' d met all those years ago. He probably remembered how I' d helped him, sacrificed for him. Guilt painted his features.

The luxury yacht was abuzz with guests, a glittering spectacle of wealth and shallow smiles. Austin's friends, a parade of familiar faces, greeted me with forced enthusiasm, their words of praise ringing hollow. "Alexis, darling, you look stunning! Austin's been lost without you." They toasted me, complimented my resilience. "That Eva," one slurred, "she was never the real one. You are."

An odd discomfort settled over Austin. He kept glancing at me, his brow furrowed. I held my wine glass, my gaze drifting casually to the river, a quiet anticipation building inside me.

"A toast!" someone shouted. "To Austin and Alexis! A proper, belated toast! A loving cup!"

The crowd cheered, egging us on. Austin looked at me, his eyes searching. My cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with him. He seemed drawn in, a flicker of that old, desperate longing in his eyes.

Suddenly, his driver burst through the crowd, his face pale with panic. "Mr. Alexander! Eva! She's had an early delivery! Heavy bleeding!"

The yacht fell silent. Every eye was on Austin. His face drained of color. He let go of my hand, all traces of the old Austin vanishing, replaced by cold terror. He turned to leave.

"Austin," I said, my voice soft, almost a whisper, my hand lightly touching his sleeve.

He looked back, his eyes catching mine, confusion warring with urgency. "Alexis, this isn't the time for games!" he snapped, his voice sharp with impatience.

I released his sleeve. Slowly. Deliberately. The decision was made.

He turned, not looking back, and rushed off the yacht. I watched him go, then turned to the driver, who was still standing there, bewildered. "Here," I said, handing him the file, the one with Austin's medical report and Eva's recorded confession. "Make sure he gets this. Personally."

The driver nodded, his eyes wide, and hurried after Austin. I watched Austin's retreating figure disappear into the night. The fake smile dropped from my face. I touched my chest. No pain. Nothing. Just an empty, calm space.

My phone buzzed. A text from my father. "I' m at the dock. Ready when you are."

A faint smile touched my lips. It was over. The past was gone. And my future was waiting.