Chapter 1: Left for Dead on Our Anniversary

My wife never loved me. She only married me for one reason: to get close to my older brother.

Even now, thinking back, it’s like a punch to the gut. I remember every little moment when I hoped things might change, when I thought maybe—just maybe—she’d look at me the way she looked at him. God, I was desperate. But I was always just a shadow standing between her and what she really wanted.

I gave her everything, but all she ever wanted was for me to disappear—she wanted me out of the picture so my brother could have her, like we were living in some twisted soap opera.

Sometimes, when I’d come home late from work, I’d find her sitting on the porch swing, staring off into the dark. I’d sit beside her, hoping for a word or a smile, but she’d barely notice me. I kept thinking if I just worked harder, if I just loved her enough, she’d finally see me. But all she ever wanted was Lucas. She didn’t even try to hide it. I should have seen it coming.

On our fifth anniversary, she suggested an adventure. A deserted island, she said, to celebrate.

She played it up like it was some romantic getaway—something out of a travel magazine. She knew I was uneasy about boats, but her excitement was infectious. I wanted so badly to believe she was finally choosing me. I packed our bags, made sure to bring her favorite snacks, and told myself this was our fresh start. I was such a sucker for hope.

When the hurricane hit, she picked a fight and took the only yacht, leaving me stranded.

The sky turned black and the wind howled so loud I could barely hear myself think. She stormed off, shouting something about how I ruined everything, and before I could catch up, she was gone—yacht engine roaring into the storm, leaving me standing there, soaked and shivering, on that godforsaken shore. I remember standing there, thinking this couldn’t be real. But it was.

I was stuck on that island, bitten by swarms of bugs, and finally swept into the ocean.

Days blurred together. I tried to find shelter, but the bugs were relentless. I started to lose track of time. My skin was raw, and every night I prayed someone would come. When the hurricane’s second wave hit, I lost my grip on the rocks and the sea dragged me out like I was nothing. I swallowed saltwater until my lungs burned. I didn’t even care anymore.

Even after I was rescued—barely clinging to life—Autumn was already plotting to get rid of me for good.

I remember the hospital lights flickering overhead, the beeping machines, and the way her eyes slid right past me—cold, calculating. She was already planning her next move, even as I was fighting to breathe. Some people never quit.

This time, I didn’t fight back. What was the point?

I let them have their way, and I vanished from her life. Just like that.

I was too tired to argue, too broken to care. Maybe they’d finally be happy. Maybe I’d finally have peace. Maybe.

By the time a group of hikers found me, I was barely alive. Unrecognizable.

The hikers were college kids on spring break, all sunburned and loud. They stared at me like they’d seen a ghost. Maybe I was one. When they finally radioed for help, I couldn’t even thank them. I just lay there, drifting in and out, feeling more dead than alive.

My skin was swollen and pale from the saltwater. My whole body was ghostly white. My thighs were covered in wounds from tropical insects.

The doctors said they’d never seen anything like it. My legs looked like hamburger meat, and my face was so puffy my own mother wouldn’t have recognized me. I heard the nurses whispering outside my room, wondering what kind of hell I’d been through.

While drifting in and out of consciousness, I thought I heard Autumn come to the hospital.

Her perfume hit me before her voice did. Even half-conscious, I knew she wasn’t there for me.

I wanted to ask her why. Why she did this. But I couldn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t make a sound.

I tried to move my lips, but nothing came out. Helpless. Invisible.

Even through the haze, I heard her voice. She was talking to someone.

Their voices were low. But the hospital walls were thin. I heard every word. Even when I wished I couldn’t.

“Who knew he’d be lucky enough to get rescued? I just wanted him stuck on that island for a month or two.” My stomach twisted.

She sounded annoyed. Almost bored. Like this was just a minor inconvenience. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was lie there, my heart pounding in my ears.

“If it doesn’t work this time, we’ll just wait. We’ll try again in a month. It’s too suspicious to do anything now. Maybe a car accident or a kidnapping—nobody would even blink.”

Her voice was so casual, like she was planning a weekend trip. Her words twisted in my chest. I could barely breathe.

The person she was talking to? My brother—Lucas Lane.

Lucas always was the cautious one—at least when it came to his own skin. Figures. I recognized the nervous edge in his voice, the way he tried to sound in control.

But Autumn didn’t back down.

“I don’t want to kill him. I just want him gone for a while. That way, you can have both of us. I just want to be with you, even if it’s only for a short time.” Like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

My whole marriage—a lie. Just a stepping stone for her to get closer to my brother.

“As for Ryan… I’ll settle down and be a good wife to him in the future.” The way she said my name—flat, dismissive—made me want to disappear for good.

Dizzy, overwhelmed by despair.

I’d been married to Autumn for five years. I knew she didn’t love me. Still, for five years, I did everything I could.

Five years of anniversaries. Birthdays. Quiet dinners where I did all the talking.

When she suggested we celebrate our anniversary, I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d finally moved her.

I remember how my heart leapt when she brought it up. I should’ve known better. But hope is a stubborn thing.

I hated the ocean. Hated the bugs. But her smile that day made me forget all of it.

Turns out, it was all just part of her plan. A way to get closer to my brother.

I was just a pawn. Nothing more.

I didn’t want to cry for her anymore. But the pain inside was tearing me apart.

I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. I tried to swallow the hurt, but it just sat there. Heavy. Raw.