Poisoned Love, Calculated Death

Poisoned Love, Calculated Death

Leo Fairchild

5.0
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The yacht' s engine faded, leaving me stranded on a desolate island. My fiancé, Liam, and my adoptive sister, Brittany, had promised a celebratory pre-wedding adventure, but they left me there to die. For ten agonizing days, the emergency beacon on the smartwatch Liam gave me, supposedly a symbol of his protection, blinked unseen. He ignored my desperate signal, the battery dying, my hope dwindling with each passing hour. My leg was shattered, twisted at an unnatural angle from a wild boar attack, leaving me crippled and starving, death a patient shadow. Then, a man emerged from the jungle, a rugged survivalist named Jax, who became my savior, tending my wounds and feeding me. I fell for him, hard and fast, believing fate had replaced a false love with a real one. One night, the pulsing light of a satellite phone deep in the jungle shattered that illusion. I crawled to his hidden bunker, and heard Jax–whose real name was Jason Cole–reporting to Brittany, confirming my worst fears. "I need to stay here to ensure she doesn' t escape and challenge the heiress for her inheritance," he said, his voice cold and professional. Brittany' s chilling reply echoed through the night: "Just make sure it' s clean. No traces. The island will take care of the rest." My savior was my jailer, every kind gesture a calculated lie, every moment a performance. He was poisoning my wound, making sure the island would be blamed for my slow, agonizing death. But I wasn't just a victim; I was an architect, and I could build a storm. Sneaking into his high-tech bunker, I manipulated satellite weather data, designing a phantom hurricane aimed directly at the island. My fabricated storm was my only ticket off this island, but first, I had to survive the real monster trapped with me.

Introduction

The yacht' s engine faded, leaving me stranded on a desolate island.

My fiancé, Liam, and my adoptive sister, Brittany, had promised a celebratory pre-wedding adventure, but they left me there to die.

For ten agonizing days, the emergency beacon on the smartwatch Liam gave me, supposedly a symbol of his protection, blinked unseen.

He ignored my desperate signal, the battery dying, my hope dwindling with each passing hour.

My leg was shattered, twisted at an unnatural angle from a wild boar attack, leaving me crippled and starving, death a patient shadow.

Then, a man emerged from the jungle, a rugged survivalist named Jax, who became my savior, tending my wounds and feeding me.

I fell for him, hard and fast, believing fate had replaced a false love with a real one.

One night, the pulsing light of a satellite phone deep in the jungle shattered that illusion.

I crawled to his hidden bunker, and heard Jax–whose real name was Jason Cole–reporting to Brittany, confirming my worst fears.

"I need to stay here to ensure she doesn' t escape and challenge the heiress for her inheritance," he said, his voice cold and professional.

Brittany' s chilling reply echoed through the night: "Just make sure it' s clean. No traces. The island will take care of the rest."

My savior was my jailer, every kind gesture a calculated lie, every moment a performance.

He was poisoning my wound, making sure the island would be blamed for my slow, agonizing death.

But I wasn't just a victim; I was an architect, and I could build a storm.

Sneaking into his high-tech bunker, I manipulated satellite weather data, designing a phantom hurricane aimed directly at the island.

My fabricated storm was my only ticket off this island, but first, I had to survive the real monster trapped with me.

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The Surgeon's Debt: Bound To The Beast

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I was a surgeon on the most luxurious ship in the world, scrubbing my hands until they were raw to forget the name Ye Jiuting and the past I’d left behind. But at 2:15 AM, Room 404 became my graveyard when a federal agent flatlined on my table, and the world I’d built turned into a nightmare. The nurse handed me a syringe she swore was a standard antibiotic, but the ship’s medical files had been scrubbed to hide a fatal allergy. Before the body was even cold, the widow was screaming murder, and the ship’s foreman, Huston Lyons, was at my throat with a predatory grin. "You killed him, Doctor," Huston sneered, "and on this ship, people like you tend to disappear overboard." When I tried to prove the syringe was clean, Huston’s brutal grip forced the needle into my own arm, injecting me with a lethal stimulant that sent my heart into a violent, scorching frenzy. I fled into the bowels of the ship, my vision warping and my lungs burning, while a ship-wide announcement declared a five-million-dollar bounty on my head. Every desperate gambler and debt-ridden crew member was now hunting me like an animal for a chance at a clean slate. I didn't understand how the digital records could lie or why a routine dose had been replaced with poison. Was I a target, or just a convenient scapegoat for a conspiracy much larger than a single death? Just as the mercenaries were about to drag me to a black site, Clinton Collier, the terrifying "King of the Leviathan," stepped out of the shadows and claimed my life as his own. "She is my Caretaker now," he declared, wrapping a black silk ribbon around my neck to mark me as his exclusive property. I had escaped the gallows only to be collared by a monster, but as I felt his madness recede under my touch, I realized that being his only cure was the most dangerous weapon I possessed.

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