Rebirth Over the Deep
I had thalassophobia, a condition rooted in an incident ten years ago when I saved Alec Johnson from a dangerous undertow.
He once held my shivering body and swore he would never let me near the ocean again.
Later, his first love, Rosalyn Martin, known as the "Mermaid Dancer," injured herself before a crucial underwater documentary shoot.
Unable to find a stand-in, he turned to me.
He locked me in a swaying cabin, his eyes bloodshot as he pleaded, "Maeve, your build is the closest to hers. Please, finish this last underwater ballet scene for her. This is her lifelong dream. I'm begging you."
They forced me into a diving suit and pushed me into the dark, icy depths that had nearly claimed my life once before.
When I surfaced, driven by sheer survival instinct, I saw him cradling a tearful Rosalyn, soothing her gently. "Rosalyn, don't cry. Your dream is complete."
No one noticed I had nearly died down there.
He didn't know that every investment in his thriving company came from me.
What he was about to destroy wasn't just my love but his entire future.
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Chapter 3
As their celebration reached its peak, a deafening roar rolled in, shattering the yacht's revelry.
A helicopter bearing a golden "Zenith" emblem hovered oppressively above the vessel.
The downdraft sent people stumbling on the deck, champagne glasses smashing to the floor.
Everyone looked up, stunned, unsure what was happening.
The cabin door slid open, and a rope ladder dropped.
A man in a tailored black suit descended with commanding presence.
His steps were steady, his face stern, his gaze slicing through the crowd before locking onto me.
Alec and his team stood frozen by the sudden intrusion.
"Who are you? Who authorized you to approach my ship?" Alec instinctively shielded Rosalyn, his voice sharp with challenge.
The man ignored him.
He walked straight to me, stopping a step away.
He shed his expensive suit jacket and draped it gently, almost reverently, over my trembling shoulders.
"Miss," his voice was low and respectful, tinged with faint concern, "the chairman is worried about you. Let's go home."
Miss? Chairman?
The words stunned everyone present.
Alec's face twisted with shock. He glanced at the man, then at me, his eyes brimming with confusion. "Maeve? What's going on? Who is he?"
I didn't answer.
With the man's support, I slowly stood.
For seven years of marriage, I dimmed myself to protect Alec's fragile male pride, avoiding heels and luxury, living like an ordinary housewife.
But now, I stood tall, looking down at my husband for the first time.
I studied his face, etched with doubt and panic, and Rosalyn behind him, equally bewildered.
I said nothing.
I only curved my lips into a cold smile.
Then I turned to the man. "Andrew, let's go home."
"Yes, Miss." Andrew Roberts nodded slightly and guided me toward the ladder.
"Maeve! Where are you going? Explain yourself!" Alec snapped out of his daze, lunging forward, but two black-clad bodyguards appeared, blocking him.
He could only watch as Andrew escorted me onto the helicopter, a symbol of absolute power and wealth.
In the final second before the cabin door closed, I glanced back at the yacht.
I saw Alec's face, contorted with shock, anger, and loss of control.
I saw Rosalyn behind him, her expression a mix of panic and envy.
I saw the team members I once worked alongside, now staring at me like I was a monster.
I committed their faces to memory.
Then, under their collective gaze, the helicopter lifted off and vanished into the distance.