Chapter 2 - THE WEIGHT OF THE WATER
The freezing water of Baltimore Harbor hit Lily like a concrete wall.
The shock stole the breath from her lungs, blinding her in a swirl of dark, churning bubbles. She forced her eyes open, the saltwater stinging, and kicked desperately toward the shadowy depths. The harbor was a murky void of green and black, littered with sunken debris from the construction site.
She saw him.
Ethan Whitmore was sinking terrifyingly fast. He wasn’t thrashing. He wasn’t swimming. His legs were entirely motionless, dead weight dragging him toward the silted bottom. Worse, he was wearing a heavy, custom-tailored wool suit that was absorbing the water like a sponge.
Lily kicked harder, her lungs burning, the pressure building behind her eyes. She reached him just as he was slipping beyond the reach of the filtered sunlight. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling upward with everything she had.
He didn't move. He was too heavy.
Panic flared in Ethan’s eyes. He pushed against her chest, a primal, terrified reflex to fight the drowning. He was going to pull them both down.
Lily didn't let go. She pressed her forehead against his, staring directly into his panicked eyes, silently demanding he focus on her. She slid one arm under his armpit, wrapping her hand firmly around his chest. With her free hand, she unbuttoned his heavy wool jacket and shoved it off his shoulders, shedding the weight.
Ethan stopped fighting. He understood.
Lily kicked frantically, her thigh muscles screaming in agony. The surface felt miles away. Her vision began to narrow, the edges going dark. Just one more kick, she told herself, thinking of her mother sitting in a cold, dark apartment. One more.
They broke the surface together.
Lily gasped, sucking in the sweet, cold air, treading water as she held Ethan’s head above the waves.
Above them, the broken platform loomed. Answer One, Open Two. Ethan hadn't just lost his balance. The heavy caster wheel of his chair had dropped perfectly into the gap she had warned Victor about, and the railing had given way entirely, snapping off at the base.
But as Lily looked up at the horrified crowd of billionaires and politicians, she realized something chilling. They were screaming, pointing, acting terrified. But directly above them, standing near the shattered edge of the glass decking, was a tall, silver-haired man in a bespoke charcoal suit.
He wasn't screaming. He was looking down at Ethan with cold, absolute disappointment.
Ethan coughed violently, spitting up seawater. He gripped Lily’s forearm with surprising upper-body strength. He didn't look up at the crowd. He looked at her.
“You jumped,” Ethan rasped, his voice barely audible over the sirens wailing in the distance.
“Hold on to me,” Lily panted. “The boats are coming.”
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Ethan’s hand slid down her arm. He pressed something cold and heavy into her palm, folding her fingers tightly over it. It felt like a thick, stainless-steel diver's watch.
“Hide this,” Ethan whispered, his grey eyes wide with a terrifying urgency. “Do not let my brother see it. Please.”
