I Ran Into My Ex-Husband on a Survival Live Stream

Chapter 2

Once we set foot on the island, all the other guests scrambled to pitch their tents.

I took a different path first: I scoped out the tide line along the coast, and finally picked a sheltered spot up on higher ground.

Fanny's team was loaded with fancy gear, filtered water bottles, windproof tents, the works. All I had was a coil of rope, a small dagger, and a flimsy tarp.

The male guest next to me watched me tie a knot so smoothly it looked like second nature, and he couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Ms. Sullivan, have you taken survival training before?"

"Nah. I used to haul cargo at the docks. If I misjudged the tide and the goods got soaked, my pay got docked. Learned the hard way after a few screw-ups, that's all."

Right as I finished speaking, a young guest slipped and fell straight into a gully carved out by the waves right at the shoreline.

I snapped the rope out in an instant and hauled him back to shore, but I missed a time-sensitive points task because of it.

He kept sputtering thanks, but I just waved it off and went back to reinforcing my shelter.

Then my sleeve got snagged on a tree branch and tore open, and a hideous old scar was laid bare right in front of the cameras.

The live comments blew up with shock and concern:

A: [Oh my god, that scar is so long!]

B: [What the hell has she been through?]

Troy called for me over the on-site comms.

"What happened to the scar on your arm?"

"Got cut by a machine at the seafood processing plant."

"Why didn't you go to the hospital to get that looked at properly?"

I suddenly flashed back to the day I got hurt. I'd already registered at the hospital, but Noah had a follow-up appointment the next day. I ended up just buying a cheap pack of disinfectant supplies that only cost me a little over ten dollars and calling it a day.

I looked straight at the camera. "Mr. Harrington, have you ever stopped to think that maybe the money you sent never actually reached me?"

The comms went dead quiet for a few seconds.

"Sophie, the financial records are right there. I can't just throw them out because you say so."

I didn't answer. I just gave a bitter laugh and pulled my sleeve back down to cover the scar.

As evening rolled around, the director suddenly dropped a high-difficulty challenge on everyone.

Guests had to climb up the cliff along a marked route and retrieve a supply crate.

Whoever pulled it off would get 20 points and 20,000 dollars in cash.

Everyone else stared up at the sheer, steep rock face and hesitated, but I was the first to raise my hand.

Fanny frowned. "It's just 20 grand. Do you really need to risk your neck for that?"

I snapped the safety harness into place as I answered, "For people like you, winning just means an extra bonus you don't even need. If I win, my son gets a better shot at things."

The climb went pretty smoothly at first.

But halfway up, an old injury in my leg flared up with a sharp, stabbing pain. My foot slipped, and I plummeted downward.

The safety rope jerked tight with a sharp twang, and I slammed hard into the rock face. The pain was so bad my vision went black for a second.

Screams erupted all across the set.

"She fell! Stop the challenge right now!"

Troy bolted out of the monitoring tent, yelling at the safety officers to call off the mission immediately.

But I locked my grip on the rope so tight my knuckles went white, refusing to let them pull me down.

The supply crate was right above me.

I was just a handful of meters away from it.

Troy's roar, raw and totally unhinged, blasted through the comms.

"Sophie, it's just twenty thousand dollars. Are you really gonna get yourself killed over that lousy little amount?"

I finally broke down crying. "Troy, you think twenty thousand is nothing? I'm still more than ten thousand short of paying my son's hospital bills from yesterday! You've got a billion dollars to toss around to whoever you want like it's spare change, but I can't even scrounge up twenty thousand!"

I clenched my jaw, planted my feet back on the rock face, and finally got a firm grip on the supply crate.

By the time I hit the ground, my lower leg was slashed open and streaming with blood.

Medics came rushing over, but I grabbed hold of the director and wouldn't let go, refusing to move.

"Do I still get the bonus?"

Only when he nodded did I let myself sit down to get my wounds bandaged.

Troy stormed over, his face twisted into such a menacing scowl it looked like he could kill someone.

"Sophie, how old is your son, exactly?"

"Five."

He went completely rigid, frozen solid.

Our divorce had happened exactly five years ago.

"Were you already pregnant when you left the Harrington family back then?"

I thought of that positive pregnancy test Minerva had torn to bits, and a sharp, burning pain lanced through my chest like I'd just been stabbed.

"Troy, you can't even get your facts straight about whether I ever got your money in the first place. What right do you have to ask me about my child now?"