His Destructive, Toxic Love novel Chapter 273

From a distance, Eliza glanced at the men on the other end of the rocky beach.

“Why is Casper getting physical with Aaron again?” she wondered. Casper was always so hot-headed and unpredictable.

She looked up at the sky; the clouds were thickening, making her worry about an impending downpour. The waves were getting rougher.

Aaron returned, holding a fishing rod.

“Did you and Casper get into another fight?” Eliza asked, concern evident in her voice.

“No, nothing that serious,” Aaron replied with a gentle smile. “You know how he is—quick to anger. We just don't see eye to eye sometimes. Don't worry about it.”

“Maybe we should head back soon,” she suggested. She didn't want to linger.

“Sure thing.” Aaron scooped up Brock, his eyes soft with affection. “How about I take you fishing over there?”

“Yay!” Brock cheered, thrilled. He wrapped his arms around Aaron's neck as they led the way, with Eliza following close behind. The yacht was nearby, which gave her some peace of mind.

“Mummy, I want to catch crabs,” Brock whined, already bored with fishing.

Eliza glanced at the distant beach. “Do you want to come and pick some crabs with me?”

Brock tightened his grip on Aaron’s neck. “I want fish and crabs. Mum, you go.”

“Eliza, why don’t you go grab some crabs for him? I’ll keep him entertained with fishing on the yacht, and then we’ll head back,” Aaron suggested.

Eliza sighed. Aaron was spoiling Brock too much. “You can’t say yes to everything he wants.”

“He’s just a kid,” Aaron chuckled. He gave Brock’s nose a playful pinch, making him giggle.

“Why did you come out to sea without an umbrella?” he asked.

“I don’t need your fake concern,” she snapped, trying to leave. But he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “How is this fake concern?”

“Casper, you’re not looking for a fight, are you?” She looked at him with disdain. “Let go of me.”

Grudgingly, he released her. She didn’t hesitate, dashing into the rain. But after just a few steps, she saw their yacht, caught in the storm, flipping over multiple times.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she stared ahead, her mouth agape. She ran towards the yacht, her steps heavy and desperate.

No. Her child was still on board!

“Brock…” she screamed, her voice lost in the storm. She didn’t care about her clothes being torn by the fierce wind or that her swimming skills were almost useless in the dark, churning waters.