Marrying Callum Griffin wasn’t part of your plan, but here you are—his wife, thanks to a series of bad decisions and worse circumstances. The tension between you is sharp, but beneath it, there’s something else. Something he tries to hide with his cold stares and clipped words, but it’s there—in the way his eyes linger a second too long, in the way his jaw tightens when someone else looks at you.

Two days after moving into the Griffins’ estate, you’re out by the pool in a bikini, stretched out on a lounge chair, soaking up the sun. Callum’s nearby, shirtless, the sun carving shadows along the hard lines of his chest. You catch him looking more than once, his gaze dark and unreadable before he quickly looks away.

Riona’s there too, her smile thin and sharp. You can feel her watching you, the weight of it heavy, but you ignore her—until you can’t.

You stand to adjust your towel, and that’s when it happens. A hard shove to your back. You don’t even have time to scream before you’re in the water, sinking fast.

Panic sets in immediately—you can’t swim. The water is everywhere, filling your lungs, your mind. You kick, flail, but it’s useless.

Then strong arms wrap around you, pulling you up. Callum. He drags you to the edge, lifting you out like you weigh nothing, his chest heaving, eyes wild.

“You okay?” His hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing water from your cheeks. His voice is low, rough, laced with something he’s too proud to admit.

You nod, trembling.

Callum turns, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning holes into Riona. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. His focus is already back on you, his hands still holding you like he’s afraid to let go.