Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

On the other side, as the helicopter blades sliced through the air, Beck found himself struggling to articulate the storm of words brewing within him since Ian had hung up the phone. He licked his parched lips, but when he finally spoke, his voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper. “Can we go any faster?” Ian just stared icily ahead, seemingly deaf to Beck’s plea. Beck clenched his fists, overcome with a sense of worthlessness. His sister had been right there in front of him all along, and he’d failed to recognize her. A sour tang pinched at his nose, but he couldn’t find the right words to express the turmoil swirling inside him. Ian, face set in stone, piloted the chopper towards their destination. “If Maja’s dead, Dylan’s going down with her,” he said, his words dissipating in the gusts of wind, leaving Beck feeling utterly drained. Before their father had lapsed into a coma, he had made it clear that if his daughter was still alive, she would inherit the entire Sanders family fortune. Beck wished for nothing more than for his little sister to be alive. He believed that if she were, their family could somehow return to their former days. But Maja, his sister, was nobody’s fool when it came to relationships. The bottom line was simple: she returned kindness with kindness. But if you slapped her, she might very well slap you back tenfold. She was strong, composed, and decisive—leaving the likes of Judith in the dust by miles. This was the sister he knew. Tears threatened to spill, but he restrained them, his eyes merely swimming with unshed emotion. In a rare turn to superstition, Beck clasped his hands together, silently praying to the heavens to keep Maja safe and sound. As the helicopter hovered above the villa, Beck’s grip tightened around a pair of binoculars he’d grabbed. Ian’s voice was chillingly calm. “Take a look. See where they are.” Through the lenses, Beck’s worst fears materialized: Maja, locked in a cage, about to be cast into the river. “Quick, Ian, get lower! They’re about to dump her in the water!”

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from the surface. The men on the boat froze, and one exclaimed, “It’s Mr. Beck!” They were poised to shoot, but upon recognizing Beck, none dared to act. The boat was now a fair distance from the shore, too far to immediately relay the turn of events to Dylan. The men exchanged nervous glances, fearing for Beck’s safety. Reluctantly, they stopped the boat, waiting for Beck to emerge from the depths. As he hit the water, Beck’s heart hammered against his ribs, tears mingling with the river—unaware he was crying, only feeling the intense sting in his eyes, as if they were about to explode. What if he had been too late? If they had delayed even a few minutes, Maja would be die. What would become of their father, his older brother, the entire Sanders legacy? All he could do now was to swim desperately downward, pushing the cage upward until it broke the surface. Turning to