Chapter 261

To everyone watching, Nathan's actions appeared like a deliberate surrender to despair. Harrison rushed forward to intervene, terrified his boss might attempt something reckless again.

"Mr. Blackwood, are you alright?" Harrison's voice trembled with concern.

Nathan lay motionless, his eyes shut tight against the world. His ashen face resembled a death mask as Harrison pressed shaking fingers to his carotid artery. The steady pulse brought visible relief.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling." Harrison nodded gratefully at Lucas. "The CEO hasn't slept in days. The exhaustion must have..."

Lucas studied Nathan with conflicted eyes. "Get him home." His clipped command left no room for argument. "Leave your team here to assist me."

Harrison nearly sagged with relief. Had Lucas refused the backup, Nathan would have flayed him alive upon waking.

As Lucas summoned his ride, Harrison hesitated before speaking again. "Mr. Sterling...I realize you said those things earlier to make Mr. Blackwood stand down."

Lucas turned away. Whether Harrison understood his motives mattered little.

The actor wasn't some saint, but neither could he watch Nathan destroy himself.

"After the divorce," Harrison continued carefully, "Mr. Blackwood became consumed with regret. The pain never leaves him. Certain misunderstandings...things he never intended...they hurt Ms. Sinclair deeply."

Harrison swallowed hard, realizing he'd overstepped. "But Mr. Sterling, every emotion he feels is genuine. His remorse. His love for her."

What would Evelyn think hearing these words? Lucas stood frozen for several heartbeats before striding toward the waiting helicopter without reply.

As the aircraft carried him toward a passenger ship below, Lucas gazed at the churning clouds. In another life - without the betrayals and heartbreak - Nathan and Evelyn would have been perfection together. A match written in the stars.

The thought carved fresh wounds in Lucas' chest. Nathan's feelings meant nothing now. Evelyn would never return.

Bracing against the ship's railing, Lucas let the frigid sea winds scour his face. His once-radiant features appeared gaunt, the light in his eyes extinguished by grief.

A thousand nautical miles away, Evelyn Sinclair stirred to consciousness. Damp earth pressed against her cheek as she blinked at a ceiling of woven branches. Her limbs refused to obey - bound by coarse vines.

A shadow moved beside her. Evelyn turned to find a tribesman crouching inches away, his dark skin streaked with ochre markings. A strangled scream tore from her throat.

The man grinned, revealing teeth filed to points. Animal bones clattered around his neck as he leaned closer. His loincloth of dried leaves rustled with each movement.

Evelyn scrambled backward until her spine hit the hut wall. Her frantic gaze took in dozens of similarly dressed warriors nearby - their fierce profiles straight from some anthropological nightmare.

'Where the hell am I?' The memory of being carried like game through the jungle sent ice through her veins.

Outside, tribesmen stacked kindling with ritual precision. Their leader - a mountain of muscle adorned with feathers - watched as others rubbed sticks against dry logs. Soon, smoke curled upward, igniting the waiting tinder.

The flames leaped hungrily as Evelyn's stomach dropped. 'Fire by friction? Am I in the Stone Age?'

Disbelief warred with terror as the tribesmen turned toward her hut in unison. Their hungry eyes glinted in the firelight.

'God must be playing the cruelest joke imaginable.'