Remarriage Failed Again Today

The spacious, luxurious living room was dimly lit.

A middle-aged man of about forty sat on the sofa, his eyes indifferent as he watched the screen, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand.

After a long moment, he took a small sip of wine and said lightly, "What’s the status of the investigation?"

Chase Lynch stood respectfully beside him, one hand over his chest and the other behind his back. He was bowed slightly, his face a mask of solemn reverence.

"To answer you, Godfather, the matter has been investigated thoroughly. Patrick Grant was the founding marshal of Country V back in the day. He was the one who helped Mason North ascend to the throne. Afterward, he took his family and left Country V. The person on the screen is his grandson, Leona Grant. He is renowned in Lynton—a figure whose reputation is as great as Patrick Grant’s, if not greater."

A disdainful smirk played on Julian Valerius’s lips. "Oh? Now this is interesting. Let them go have some fun on Hell’s Island. I’m curious to see just what kind of tough characters we’re dealing with."

"Yes."

Chase Lynch hesitated for a moment before continuing his report. "Also, that woman with the surname Ye called. Her condition is that as long as Annabelle Linton is dead, she will do anything we ask."

"Hah." Julian Valerius let out a soft chuckle, his sharp gaze fixed on the image of Annabelle Linton. "Annabelle Linton? Is this the woman?"

"To answer you, Godfather, yes, that is Annabelle Linton. She is Leona Grant’s current wife."

Julian Valerius’s eyes remained locked on Annabelle Linton’s face as he sank deep into thought. His expression grew increasingly dark and unreadable. "Oh... she looks so familiar..."

...

The sky began to lighten as the morning sun slowly rose.

Leona Grant slowly opened his eyes, finding himself beneath a tree on a beach.

He shot to his feet, crying out anxiously, "Annabelle! Annabelle!"

Annabelle Linton emerged from behind a nearby tree, carrying an armful of firewood. She set it down and looked at him impassively. "You’re awake?"

Leona Grant pulled her into a fierce, unsettled hug.

The memory of being tossed about by the gale-force winds in the air sent a wave of residual fear through him.

He remembered them both falling off the cliff into the sea below. He had no idea how they had survived.

’He wasn’t afraid of death. He was only afraid he would never see Annabelle again.’

Holding Annabelle tightly, Leona Grant asked nervously, "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Annabelle frowned and pushed him away. "I’m fine," she said, her expression blank. "You sit down. You’re the one who’s hurt. Make sure it doesn’t get infected."

Leona Grant froze, only then noticing that his arm was injured, wrapped in a strip of white cloth.

He glanced at Annabelle and saw that a piece of her dress had been torn away. The bandage on his arm was the missing fabric.

Leona Grant’s heart fluttered. His gaze softened as he watched Annabelle bustle about. "Did you bandage this?" he asked softly.

"Mhm," Annabelle replied faintly, crouching to arrange the firewood, her expression unchanging.

’They had been blown far off course and had fallen from a cliff. Leona had grabbed her, and that’s how he got hurt.’

’She just didn’t want to be in his debt.’

Leona Grant watched her with lowered eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. "Thank you."

Annabelle didn’t say anything. She simply piled up the firewood, started a fire, and propped the fish she’d caught earlier on a spit to roast.

Watching her skillful movements, Leona Grant hurried over to help. "Where did the fire come from?"

Annabelle added more wood to the flames. "Took it from the plane," she said coolly.

Leona Grant’s eyes lit up, surprised by her foresight. "How did you know to grab that?"

Annabelle’s lips twitched. She shot him a look one might give an idiot. "We crash-landed on an uncharted island. Were you expecting a rescue team to arrive right away?"