Chapter 150 Ten Years Unfinished
Chapter 150 Ten Years Unfinished
Eleanor' POV
A scream built in my chest but came out as nothing more than muffled "MMMMMPH!" My whole body strained against the ropes, trying desperate to break free, but they held firm.
"I'm sorry, little Elle." And he did sound sorry—genuinely sorry, which somehow made it worse. "I really am. You were always a sweet kid. But you're a Sterling. And someone from that family needs to pay."
Through the window behind him, I could see the water. Dark. Endless. Waiting. The late winter sun was almost gone now, the light fading faster than it would in a few months when spring truly arrived.
And suddenly I wasn't in the cabin anymore.
---
Eight years old, wearing a white sundress, waking up from a nap in the guest cabin of my family's yacht.
Main salon was empty except for twelve-year-old Julian, curled up on the cream leather sofa with a book.
"Julian?" Voice was small, still thick with sleep. "I want strawberry ice cream."
He looked up and smiled—that rare, genuine smile he only gave me when no one else was watching. "Sure, Elle. Wait here. I'll get it from the galley."
He disappeared down the stairs, and I waited, swinging my legs from the too-tall chair, humming to myself.
"Eleanor?"
I turned. Uncle Jack stood in the doorway—not Uncle Jack, just Jack, but I'd called him Uncle cause he worked for Daddy and he was always nice to me, always had candy in his pockets and told funny stories.
"Hi, Uncle Jack!" I smiled. "Where's Mommy?"
"She's waiting for you on the tender boat." He held out his hand, and I saw his fingers were shaking slightly. "She asked me to bring you to her."
I didn't hesitate. I trusted Uncle Jack. Took his hand and let him lead me out onto the deck, down the stairs to where the small tender was tied up.
But when we got there, no one was waiting.
"Uncle Jack?" I looked around, confused. Tender rocked gently on the waves, empty except for life jackets and coiled rope. "Where's Mommy?"
His hand tightened on mine. "She's not here, Eleanor."
Something in his voice made me look up. His face was strange—twisted with something that looked like pain and anger mixed, tears running down his cheeks.
"Uncle Jack, you're scaring me—"
"I'm sorry." His voice broke. "I'm so sorry, little Elle. But your father destroyed my life. And I don't have anything left to lose."
His arm locked around me from behind—not tight enough to choke, but firm enough I couldn't break free. I struggled, small hands clawing at his arm.
"Please—Uncle Jack, please don't—I didn't do anything—I'll be good, I promise—"
"I know you didn't." He was crying harder now, whole body shaking. "I know this isn't your fault. But I don't know what else to do. Don't know how to make the pain stop."
Footsteps pounded on the deck above. Voices shouting. Someone had realized I was missing.
Jack's grip tightened for a moment, and I felt him tense—making a decision.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "God forgive me, I'm so sorry."
Then he pushed.
I screamed as I fell, sound cutting off when I hit the water.
Cold. So cold it felt like knives stabbing into every inch of my skin. Ocean swallowed me whole, pulling me down into darkness.
Couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. Couldn't tell which way was up.
My lungs burned. Chest felt like it was being crushed. I tried to swim but my sundress tangled around my legs, heavy and waterlogged, dragging me deeper.
This was it. I was gonna die. Eight years old and I was gonna drown in the Atlantic Ocean cause Uncle Jack was sad and angry and I was a Sterling.
A splash above me. Strong arms grabbing me, pulling me up.
I broke the surface gasping, coughing, water streaming from my nose and mouth. Vision was blurred but I could make out a face—Arthur. Fourteen-year-old Arthur, glasses gone, expression terrified.
"I've got you," he kept saying, over and over. "Elle, I've got you. Just hold on. Just breathe."
He dragged me to the tender, helped pull me aboard. I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered, water streaming from my hair and clothes, whole body convulsing.
"You're okay," Arthur said, wrapping a towel around me, rubbing my arms to warm me up. "You're safe now. Won't let anything happen to you. Promise."
But I wasn't okay. Could still feel the water closing over my head, still feel the panic of not knowing which way was up, still feel my lungs screaming for air they couldn't find.
I would never be okay with water again.
---
I came back to the present with a gasp—or tried to. Tape held my mouth sealed shut, forcing me to breathe desperate through my nose, each breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
Whole body was shaking violent.
Rope bit into my wrists. Cabin walls pressed in. Through the window, reservoir water gleamed black in the fading light—that particular quality of late winter dusk when the sun had set but true darkness hadn't fallen yet.
And Jack was watching me, knife still in his hand, expression unreadable.
"You remember," he said quiet. "I can see it in your face."
I tried to speak—tried to beg, to plead, to say anything—but tape sealed everything away. Only desperate, terrified whimpers escaped: "Mmmph... mmm-mmm... mmmmmph..."
My throat had closed up. Heart was racing so fast I thought it might explode. Couldn't breathe proper through my nose—each inhale was too short, too shallow.
Water. Too much water. Can't breathe. Drowning. I'm drowning—
"Ten years ago, I tried to kill you." Jack's voice was almost conversational now, detached. "But I couldn't go through with it. Even then, even desperate and angry as I was, couldn't actually hurt a child. So I just... pushed you. And ran."
He took a step closer, and I tried to shrink back but chair wouldn't move. High-pitched whimper escaped my throat—"Mmmmm..."—helpless and animal-like.
"Told myself I'd leave you alone after that. That I'd done enough. That I could move on." His laugh was bitter. "But I couldn't. Every day for ten years, I've thought about you. About your family. About what you took from me."
Another step closer. Knife blade gleamed in the fading light.
"And then I saw you today. Happy. In love. Living your perfect little life while I've been in hell."
My vision was starting to tunnel. Black spots danced at the edges. Couldn't breathe proper—physically couldn't get enough air through my nose.
Panic attack. This is a panic attack. Breathe. Gotta breathe—
But I couldn't. Tape sealed my mouth shut, forcing me to breathe only through my nose, and terror made even that impossible. Phobias were too strong—deep water phobia and claustrophobia crashing together, small cabin and vast water outside creating perfect storm of terror.
I was gonna suffocate. Gonna pass out. Gonna—
"I'm sorry, Eleanor." Jack raised the knife. "But this time, I'm gonna finish what I started."
Blade started to descend—
A scream built in my chest but came out as nothing more than desperate, muffled "MMMMMPH!"
The door exploded inward with a crash that made both of us jump.
Julian stood in the doorway, backlit by the last of the late winter sunset—that particular quality of light at the end of February, brighter than deep winter but still fading fast. And his eyes—
His eyes were the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. Cold. Deadly. Absolutely focused.
"Get away from her." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the cabin like a blade. "Now."