The Heiress's Wager Chapter 6

Fifteen minutes later, the yacht idled in the middle of the Atlantic.

The engines died, leaving only the sound of waves slapping against the hull.

Everyone had come up to the deck.

Not just the VIPs from the salon, but the entire guest list—over fifty people—had heard about the unprecedented gamble and rushed to see the show.

The moon was bright.

The ocean was black.

The wind was biting.

I stood by the railing, wrapped tight in a suit jacket someone had handed me.

Julian and Sienna were "escorted" to the edge by security.

Sienna was crying so hard she couldn't speak, her body dead weight in the guards' arms.

Julian’s face was ashen, but he stood tall.

Maintaining his pride until the bitter end.

"Seraphina," he said suddenly.

I looked at him.

"I underestimated you," he said. "Ten years, and I never truly saw you."

"No," I said. "You didn't."

"Because you never wanted to. You wanted a doll. A trophy. Someone to make you look good."

"You never wanted me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it.

Because I was right.

We both knew it.

"Water temp is 50 degrees," Leo announced, looking pained. "Hypothermia sets in within 15 to 30 minutes. We have a rescue tender following a mile out. If you get in real trouble, they'll fish you out."

"But you have to actually try to swim. Otherwise..."

He trailed off.

He didn't need to finish.

Julian took off his tuxedo jacket and undid his bowtie.

He stood at the railing, looking back at me one last time.

There was so much in that look.

Regret.

Anger.

Lust.

Loss.

But not love.

Never love.

"You'll regret this, Seraphina," he said.

"And no matter how much you beg, I will never forgive you."

I laughed.

"Good. Because I'll never beg."

Then Julian Thorne, the proudest prince of Manhattan, heir to a billion-dollar empire, vaulted over the rail.

He plunged into the freezing, black Atlantic.

The splash erupted, then quickly settled.

His head bobbed to the surface, and he began to swim.

Toward the distant shore.

20 miles away.

When security pushed Sienna to the railing, she broke down completely.

"No! No! Please! I'll die! I'll die!"

"Seraphina, please! I was wrong! I was so wrong!"

"We're friends! Remember? We're friends!"

I walked up to her, leaning in close.

"We were never friends, Sienna."

"You're a parasite. And I was a fool."

"Not anymore."

I nodded to the guards.

They threw her over.

Her scream pierced the night sky before being swallowed by the ocean.

Dead silence.

Fifty people, and not a single whisper.

They just stared at me.

At Seraphina Vane.

The docile, obedient, harmless Vane heiress.

What had she just done?

She won a straight flush.

She forced her fiancé into the Atlantic.

She ended her engagement in front of half of New York's high society.

She ruined Julian Thorne.

I turned to face the crowd.

"Party's over," I said, my voice cutting through the wind.

"The yacht returns to Manhattan at dawn. Anyone who speaks to the press about tonight will be blacklisted from all Vane properties, events, and business dealings."

"Is that clear?"

Nods rippled through the crowd.

"Good."

I turned and walked back toward the cabin.

As I passed the poker table, I saw my engagement ring still sitting there.

An 8-carat pink diamond, worth two million dollars.

I picked it up.

And casually tossed it into the sea.