He Terminated My Lease So I Terminated Our Wedding Chapter 04
When the first drop of rain hit my face, I was still staring at the spot where the boat had vanished.
In less than five minutes, the sea changed color.
Storm clouds rolled in, and the wind picked up with a sudden fury. Rain soaked through my thin sweater, plastering it to my skin like a sheet of ice.
I ran to the far side of the island.
The sandbar was now just a thin, gray-white line. Water spilled over it from both sides, and the path had already broken apart in the lowest spots, waves washing gravel across the crossing.
I tried to take a few steps forward.
The freezing water instantly rose past my calves, the sand collapsing under my feet. The next wave nearly knocked me over.
I couldn’t cross.
If I went any farther, the tide would drag me out to sea.
I scrambled back to dry ground, staring at the rising water, my breathing turning short and sharp.
The island was supposed to be open, but now there was no boat, no road, and no way off.
The feeling of being trapped hit me all at once, a visceral echo of the locked doors in my foster home. My chest tightened, layer by layer, until all I could hear was my own heartbeat hammering in my ears.
I dug my nails into my palm.
“Look at the ground, Lila.”
I forced the words out loud.
“Find shelter.”
Near the dock was a waterproof, waist-high storage box. I staggered over and yanked the lid open, hoping for life jackets.
Instead, a phone screen lit up.
It was Cass’s backup phone.
It was plugged into a power bank. She must have left it charging and forgotten it.
I snatched it up.
The screen was locked. The signal in the upper right corner was down to one bar. I was about to hit Emergency Call when a Discord notification popped up.
From “Lila Line.”
$1,000 says she calls to apologize before the tide comes in.
Sent by Owen.
Beneath it was a preview of Cass’s reply.
I bet she doesn’t last two hours.
Rain streamed from my hair into my eyes.
I forgot to blink.
They knew the tide would swallow the sandbar.
They knew a storm was coming.
They took my phone, my wallet, and my coat, left me here, and then sat somewhere safe, waiting for me to beg.
Even my fear, even my life, was just another bet to them.
I tapped Emergency Call and dialed 911.
The phone gave two short beeps, and the call failed.
The signal bars vanished.
All that remained on the screen was No Service.
Standing there in the downpour, I let go of the last hope that they might come back for me.
I was so cold I’d gone numb, but my mind was clearer than it had been all day.
I couldn’t wait for them.
I shoved the phone inside my sweater and started searching the shoreline for anything I could use.
There was no life ring at the dock. The small hut by the shore had its doors and windows boarded shut. In the center of the island stood a caretaker’s tool shed with a rusted lock on its iron door.
I circled it once.
No windows. No other way in.
The wind howled, and my fingers were so frozen I could barely make a fist. As I turned, my shoe struck something hard buried in the sand.
I dropped to my knees and clawed at the wet ground.
An abandoned iron mooring post.
Most of it was buried, its base rusted through. I grabbed it with both hands and rocked it back and forth—once, twice—the rough metal skinning my palms.
The sound of the waves was getting closer.
I gritted my teeth and hauled with all my strength.
The post broke free with a sucking sound, and I fell backward into the sand, clutching it.
I didn’t stop. Dragging it behind me, I rushed to the shed and jammed the pointed end into the crack between the door and its frame.
The first time, nothing moved.
The second, the metal door gave a protesting shriek.
I planted my foot on the post and threw my entire weight down. My arms shook violently, but the latch only bent.
“Open!”
I screamed and forced my weight down again.
Crack—
The rotted frame split. The lock tore loose, taking a chunk of wood with it.
I lunged into the shed.
Inside were fishing nets, empty fuel drums, and repair tools. I ripped aside a waterproof tarp, shoved over two plastic bins, and finally saw it on a back shelf—
a yellow handheld VHF marine radio.
I hit the power button.
The screen lit up.
It still had a charge.
I switched it to the emergency channel, 16, and pressed the transmit key. My teeth were chattering so hard I could barely make a sound.
I took a deep breath and tried again.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.”
Static crackled through the cramped shed.
“This is a civilian, Lila Hart. I am stranded on Gull Island.”
I paused, staring through the doorway as the seawater swallowed the shoreline.
Then I spoke, my voice clear and steady.
“I have been left here.”
“I have been left here to die.”