Kathrine’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching violently as reality crashed over her like a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

Cold.

The first thing she felt was the icy water licking at her skin.

Her gaze dropped instinctively, and her heart nearly stopped. Water was already pooling around her legs, rising steadily inside the massive metal container that caged her in. The dim light overhead flickered, casting eerie shadows that made the rippling surface look even more menacing.

"What the—"

Her voice broke, panic clawing up her throat.

She jerked instinctively, only to feel the harsh bite of ropes digging into her wrists and ankles. Her hands were bound tightly to the armrests of the wooden chair, her legs secured just as mercilessly. No matter how hard she pulled, the restraints didn’t budge.

Memories surged back in fragments.

Collin’s furious face.His voice laced with something dark and unhinged.And then—

The punch.

Kathrine inhaled sharply, her head throbbing as she remembered the blow that had knocked her unconscious.

"What is this place..." she whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed.

The water continued to rise.

Slow. Deliberate. Cruel.

A shaky breath escaped her as fear began to settle deep in her bones. Facing Collin had been terrifying—but this... this was something far worse. This was silent. Inevitable. A death she could feel creeping closer second by second.

"Damn it!" she hissed, thrashing violently.

The chair scraped against the metal floor with a harsh screech as she twisted her body, trying to loosen the ropes. Her wrists burned as she struggled, skin chafing raw, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not again.

Kathrine clenched her teeth, refusing to give in as the water reached her knees... then her thighs... inching higher with merciless patience.

Collin had warned her.

He said he wouldn’t go easy on her.

But this—this wasn’t punishment.

This was execution.

A hollow laugh almost escaped her as dread filled her chest. Even in this life... even after everything... she was still going to die at his hands?

The thought made her vision blur.

"No..." she whispered hoarsely, shaking her head.

As the water climbed to her waist, then higher, a different kind of ache spread through her.

Memories.

Ethan’s quiet strength... the way his presence made her feel safe in a way she had never known before. The way he looked at her—as if she mattered.

Anna’s worried voice, always trying to hold things together even when everything was falling apart.

And then—

Hugo.

Kathrine’s breath hitched sharply.

"I still..." her voice cracked, tears mixing with the cold water, "I still haven’t told him..."

George was innocent.

The truth she had carried, the truth that could change everything—it was still buried inside her.

If she died now...

No one would ever know.

The water reached her chest, cold enough to steal her breath, pressing against her like a cruel reminder that time was running out.

"No... no, I can’t..." she gasped, struggling harder, her body trembling with desperation.

Her fingers curled against the ropes, nails digging into her own skin as she fought with everything she had left.

"I won’t die like this..."

But the rising water didn’t care.

And for the first time, fear truly consumed her.

"No... no, I can’t let this end like this..."

Kathrine’s voice trembled, but there was a stubborn edge beneath the fear. Her fingers curled tightly against the coarse rope, her wrists twisting despite the burning pain that shot up her arms. The chair groaned as she rocked it again, harder this time, the legs scraping loudly against the metal floor.

The sound echoed hollowly in the enclosed space.

Useless.

Still, she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

"I won’t let him win..." she gasped under her breath, her chest heaving as the icy water pressed higher, now brushing against her ribs.

Collin wanted this.

He wanted her to break. To disappear. To take the truth down with her.

But she refused.

"I won’t let your sins die with me..." her voice cracked, anger flickering through the terror.

Her body strained violently against the restraints, muscles trembling with the effort. She twisted her wrists again, harder, ignoring the sting as the rope cut into her skin. A faint warmth mixed with the cold water—blood—but even that didn’t make her stop.

Her breaths came faster, more uneven.

Because this wasn’t just about survival anymore.

It was about truth.

"Daniel..." his name slipped from her lips like a fragile prayer, her eyes stinging.

He deserved to know.

He deserved to know that his father—George—was never a criminal.

That everything... everything had been a lie.

A cruel, calculated lie woven by Collin and Roseline.

And her.

Kathrine’s body stilled for a brief second, her breath hitching painfully.

"I was part of it..." she whispered, her voice hollow, filled with a guilt that had haunted her for far too long.

If only she hadn’t agreed.

If only her younger self hadn’t been so weak... so scared.

Her eyes squeezed shut as memories surged violently—fear, threats, manipulation. A child cornered, too afraid to resist, too naive to understand the weight of what she was agreeing to.

"If I hadn’t been so afraid..." her lips trembled, "maybe George would still be alive..."

The water rose further, now pressing heavily against her chest, making each breath harder than the last.

"And his wife..." her voice broke completely, a sob slipping out, "she wouldn’t have..."

She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

That woman’s broken eyes still haunted her.

The grief. The despair.

The end she chose because the world had stripped everything from her.

And Kathrine had been part of the reason.

"No..." Kathrine shook her head weakly, tears streaming freely now. "I have to fix this... I have to..."

Her body jerked again, more frantic this time.

The chair tilted slightly before slamming back down with a loud clang, sending ripples across the rising water. Her strength was slipping, her movements growing less controlled, more desperate.

The cold seeped deeper into her bones.

Her breaths turned shallow, uneven, each inhale a struggle as the pressure against her chest increased.

The water climbed higher.

Relentless.

Unforgiving.

"I... can’t..." she gasped, her head falling back slightly as exhaustion began to take over.

Her arms felt heavy.

Her legs numb.

Even her fingers, once clawing desperately at the ropes, began to lose strength.

"No... no, get up..." she whispered to herself, as if sheer will could force her body to obey.

But it didn’t.

Her struggles slowed.

Her movements weakened.

And for the first time since she woke up, hopelessness crept in.

The water pressed firmly against her chest now, each breath feeling like it might be her last as a suffocating weight settled over her.

Her body trembled, not from effort anymore, but from the crushing realization—’she was failing.’

And no matter how much she fought...the water kept rising until she heard someone call her.

"Kathrine!"

***

The tension in the air was palpable long before Norma even stepped into the hall.

Cameras flashed intermittently as reporters gathered in clusters, their voices overlapping in a low, restless hum that filled the grand conference room. Every major media outlet had shown up, drawn by the shocking announcement—Norma was finally going public.

Finally accepting responsibility. Or so it seemed.

"She chose today of all days..." one reporter muttered, adjusting his mic. "After staying silent for this long?"

"Something’s off," another replied, flipping through her notes. "Why confess now? And so suddenly?"

"Maybe the pressure got to her," a third chimed in. "Hugo’s condition hasn’t improved. The public outrage... it was only a matter of time."

A soft scoff followed.

"Or maybe she’s trying to control the narrative before someone else exposes something worse."

The murmurs grew louder, sharper, speculation weaving through the room like wildfire.

At the center of it all was one name.

Norma.

And behind it—

Hugo.

"The official statement said she would address her involvement in Hugo’s condition," a journalist said, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves could listen. "That she’s ready to admit what really happened."

"Do you think she’ll name others involved?" someone asked quickly.

A brief silence followed that question.

Then—

"That’s what everyone’s waiting for."

Across the room, seated among the reporters, a man remained unusually quiet.

Still.

Watching.

Collin.

His sharp eyes scanned the hall with calculated precision, taking in every exit, every camera angle, every face. Unlike the others, he wasn’t here for the story.

He was here for control.

His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, a slow, rhythmic motion that betrayed none of the storm beneath his calm exterior.

Everything was unfolding exactly as planned.

Or at least—

That’s what it should have been.

His gaze flickered briefly toward the entrance, narrowing slightly.

Kathrine should have been gone by now.

The thought crossed his mind like a shadow, fleeting but sharp.

A faint irritation tugged at his expression before it disappeared just as quickly. There was no room for uncertainty. No room for mistakes.

He had ensured it.

No one could survive that.

No one.

Still...

His jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Sir, do you think this will finally clear things up?" a young reporter nearby asked his colleague, oblivious to the man sitting just inches away from him.

"Clear things up?" the older man let out a dry laugh. "This is just the beginning."

The older reporter glanced around before lowering his voice.

"People you wouldn’t expect."

Collin’s lips curved faintly at that, though there was no warmth in the gesture.

Fools.

They had no idea how deep this ran. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

The doors at the front of the hall suddenly shifted, a subtle movement that immediately caught everyone’s attention.

The chatter died down almost instantly.

Cameras lifted.

Microphones were readied.

Every eye turned toward the entrance as anticipation thickened the air.

"This is it..." someone whispered.

Collin leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze sharpening, predatory.

Whatever Norma was about to say— he knew he had already won.