Chapter 170

Jonathan's brow furrowed, his voice cold. "Once this is over, I'm sending you overseas to lie low. I have a place for you. Stay for six months. Once I've sorted things out here, I'll bring you back."

Cynthia paused, a dry laugh escaping her lips. "Jonathan, have you lost your mind? Who gave you the right to dictate my life? And who do you think you are to me?"

His expression turned deadly serious. "Cynthia, I'm not joking. You're in real danger. My sister will be back soon, and if she finds out you're my weakness or that Preston has feelings for you, she won't hesitate to come after you. You'll face all kinds of deadly accidents. I know you're good, but can you dodge them all, indefinitely? I'm not exaggerating. Whitney tried to kill me six times a year. It's a miracle I'm still alive after two ICU stays."

Cynthia stood her ground. "I don't care who your sister is or what she can do. I'm not running to some foreign country on your say-so. And I'll make it clear to Ms. Bennett that I want no part in this. Whether it's you or Preston, I'm done with both of you. I assume your sister doesn't go around killing people without reason, right?"

Jonathan scoffed. "You have no idea. You might not even get a chance to explain. Over the years, who knows how many lives she's ended? I've stopped counting."

Cynthia was taken aback. She thought, The Bennetts have wealth and power, but can they really flout the law and treat lives so carelessly?

She considered her words carefully. "Jonathan, I'm not gambling with my life, but I'm not leaving the country on your orders either. If your sister is that powerful, can you promise to defeat her in six months? You've been at this for years and haven't managed it yet. Do I just hide forever? Besides, I live my life honestly and openly; there's no need for me to hide."

"Cynthia!" Jonathan grasped her hand, his voice urgent. "Don't you understand how worried I am about you?"

Cynthia said calmly, "I don't, and I don't want to. Jonathan, we're through. So my life or death means nothing to you. Even if your sister did have me killed, it would be my fate, and I wouldn't blame you. Of course, don't worry. I'm not easy to kill. I'll handle it myself."

Cynthia had made up her mind. If Whitney was as unhinged as Jonathan described, she'd seek help from Simon or their mentor, Shiloh Fernandez. Simon had underworld connections and influence both domestically and internationally. Even though he was legitimate now, he could keep her safe. And then there was Shiloh, who had been in seclusion for years. Only Simon knew his whereabouts. If it came to it, she could hide with him.

Jonathan was nearly driven mad by Cynthia's stubbornness. "Cynthia, will you only be satisfied if you drive me insane?"

Cynthia, with her plan in place, regained her composure. "If you really want to keep me safe, stay away from me. You're the one causing trouble, aren't you?"

Jonathan's eyes clouded over. He'd tried to keep his distance, but it clearly wasn't the solution. When he tried to retreat, he found Cynthia had blocked every escape route. He helplessly leaned his head on her shoulder. "If you're ever in danger, or something feels off, come to me."

This time, Cynthia didn't retort. She sensed his exhaustion. Truthfully, Cynthia knew Jonathan was sincere. But she wouldn't be anyone's weakness or a weapon for Whitney to use against Jonathan. So, she had to cut ties with him. From now on, they'd just be strangers.

Jonathan slumped onto Cynthia's shoulder, acting like a child. She stood rigid, unmoving, but didn't push him away. The cool, pleasant scent of his cologne filled her nostrils. She'd never seen him so worn out; he could barely stand.

"Can you give me a hug?" Jonathan whispered, his voice tickling Cynthia's ear.

Cynthia remained still, unresponsive.

"Think of it as the last time," he added, his voice almost desperate.

They were nearly pressed together, feeling the warmth and rhythm of each other's hearts. That familiar warmth and heartbeat seemed to penetrate their skin, reaching their very souls and spreading through their bodies like electricity.

"Hold me," he pleaded, his tone like a child asking for candy or a beggar seeking shelter.

Cynthia slowly raised her hand, as if to wrap it around his waist, but then she abruptly pushed him away, spun on her heel, and slipped through a gap between the rocks.

"Jonathan, how many times have you pulled this stunt? I'm not falling for it again," she said firmly.

Then, she kicked him in the calf, feeling a surge of satisfaction as she vented her frustration. "Next time you pull a crazy stunt like this, I won't go easy on you," she warned, cracking her knuckles for emphasis.

Then, she turned and walked away, leaving Jonathan rubbing his leg, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement. His hands ached, his leg ached, and his heart ached—everything ached.

By noon, the photos from their photoshoot were uploaded online, and the voting results were in. Cynthia and Preston's photo was in the lead, with Nina and Jonathan close behind. Ethan and Jessa were third, and Wendy and Melissa were last.

According to the show's rules, Preston and Cynthia were treated to a luxurious lunch of fresh ham, lobster, and prime beef. The others ate simple lunchboxes, which, on a deserted island, was still a blessing.

The toughest penalty was reserved for last place. Alex and Abby had to fend for themselves, searching for food. Alex headed into the woods for fruit, but Abby was famished after going without food for over twenty-four hours. Her legs were weak, and she felt exhausted.

Spotting the generous spread in Cynthia's lunchbox, Abby's eyes widened, and she sprinted towards Cynthia.

Bang!