Maya’s POV

“Sign every page, Ms. Ellison. No exceptions.”

The attendant’s calm voice reached me the second the seaplane door opened. Warm salt air hit my face as I stepped onto the wooden dock, still wearing the wrinkled travel dress I had chosen because it looked respectable enough for the “wellness retreat” my conservative Boston family believed I was attending. I was Maya Ellison, twenty-nine years old, a corporate lawyer who had spent the last six years drowning in billable hours and one particularly brutal partnership review that left me hollowed out and desperate for anything that felt real. My hands stayed steady as I took the tablet and signed...