She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 315

Loyce startled for a fraction of a second—then felt the tremor in him, the rare, exposed weakness. She lifted a hand, wrapped it around his back, and patted him once, slow.

She’d meant to leave with Buck. That was the plan. But after it was done, her mind kept circling back to Lucian. It was off-script, and she could picture exactly how this would look from his side—an explosion, a dead signal, silence.

So she’d asked Buck for a yacht he’d recently taken off some wealthy owner, and she brought Sapphire back herself. The fog made navigation risky, so she waited until visibility improved, then followed the signal line back in.

Loyce lowered her lashes, voice quiet. “You thought I burned up in there? I’m not that fragile.”

“Logic told me you wouldn’t die.” Lucian’s fingers tightened at her waist, veins standing out on the back of his hand. “But my emotions—” His voice roughened. “They wrecked me.”

He almost never let anyone see anything raw. He never allowed weakness, never allowed a soft spot. Now the entire ship knew exactly where his was.

Whether that soft spot was flesh or steel… no one could say.

After a moment, Loyce noticed the sailors’ looks—curious, amused, borderline scandalized—and she cleared her throat, patting Lucian again, more pointedly. “That’s enough. You can let go now.”

He forced himself to breathe, released her, then immediately caught her wrist like he was afraid she’d vanish again and headed for his office.

Over his shoulder, he ordered, “Secure the evidence. Clean up the rest. We’re heading back.”

His eyes flicked to Sapphire, still standing off to the side, wrecked and exhausted. After a beat, he added, “Get the medic to check on Ms. Walsh. Then arrange a cabin so she can shower and change.”

Robert nodded and turned to Sapphire. “This way, Ms. Walsh. You did well.”

“Thank you,” Sapphire said, glancing down at her oil-smeared hair and the sour stink in her clothes. She hated being seen like this—unpolished, stripped of the version of herself she presented to the world.

The footage—recorded from Sapphire’s micro-camera—had been edited with deliberate care. Loyce never appeared on screen, but Gavin did: the organ trafficking, the makeshift medical gear, the crew’s faces, and finally the moment the ship ran into pirates and got hit.

The chain of evidence was clean, smooth, airtight. Even Lucian—who could pry secrets out of most digital locks—couldn’t restore the missing portion that had been intentionally erased.

He pulled the USB out and turned it in his fingers, thinking.

The shower shut off. Moments later, Loyce walked out barefoot, hair damp, wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts.

A warship didn’t exactly come with comfort. No plush slippers. Lucian nodded toward a pair of white socks on the bed.“The floor’s cold. Put those on.”

“It’s hot.” Loyce tossed her towel aside and exhaled, suddenly aware of how empty her stomach felt now that the adrenaline was gone. “Is there anything to eat?”