The Billionaire Who Killed Our Son Now Begs Me To Save His Daughter Chapter 01

The Billionaire Who Killed Our Son Now Begs Me To Save His Daughter Chapter 01

As the only expert capable of completing a rescue dive at three thousand five hundred feet, I received a million-dollar salvage contract.

I’d been in that stretch of water before. More than a decade ago.

My son’s research submersible had suffered hull damage at the bottom. He ran out of oxygen and suffocated in the dark.

I was shattered. My husband Grant held me through those dark, sleepless nights.

Later I found out he was the one who’d ordered away the only rescue sub capable of reaching that depth. He sent it to save his childhood friend’s daughter.

That girl had swallowed some water in the shallows.

I divorced him the day I found out. I threw myself into taking every deep-sea salvage job I could get.

Until I knew the currents in that stretch of water better than I knew my own home.

I just hoped that someday, no other mother would lose her son that way.

Today. Same stretch of water. Same crew compartment deformation. Oxygen running out. Extreme risk.

And when I saw the client’s file, I froze solid.

That name. That face. I’ll carry that to my grave.

I smiled and handed the file back to my partner.

“I’m not taking this dive.”

***

“Syl, are you insane?”

Chase snatched the file and spread it out in front of me again.

“A million dollars. You have no idea how many risks we take to make that kind of money. You say no, you gotta give us a reason.”

I pulled my gloves back on and started my routine equipment check.

“No is a complete sentence.”

“Then look at this.”

Chase flipped to the back of the file.

“The crew compartment’s badly deformed. Less than twenty-four hours of oxygen left. There’s a living person in there. A twenty-three-year-old girl.”

My fingers stopped on a valve.

My son was twenty-three when he died.

“Syl, around here, you’re the only one who can complete a docking rescue at this depth.”

Chase leaned in and lowered his voice.

“If you don’t go, she dies.”

I tightened the valve and turned to face him.

“Chase, you’ve had my back for seven years. When have I ever turned down a job for no reason?”

He was speechless.

“Then why would you—”

I didn’t answer.

“Look, whether you know them or not—”

Chase grabbed my arm, getting frustrated.

“That’s cold, hard cash.”

“I wouldn’t do it for one hundred million.”

I pulled my arm free, my voice still calm.

“Don’t go there. Seven years, I’ve said no maybe five times. Just trust me.”

Chase’s face turned crimson. He looked like he was biting his tongue.

He’d been with me seven years.

He was there when I got my deep-sea cert and rented a little bunkhouse to start my own operation.

He’d seen me break three ribs getting thrown around by a four-hundred-foot current.

He’d seen me drag a kid who’d stopped breathing up from the bottom, then crouch at the stern and dry-heave all night.

But he’d never seen me like this.

“Fine.”

Chase closed the file and slapped it down on the table.

“I’m with you.”

He turned and walked to the door, then stopped. His voice came out thick.

“But that girl’s a real person. A living, breathing person. If you change your mind… we’ll be standing by.”

The door closed.

I stood alone in the equipment bay, staring at the file Chase had thrown on the table.

On the cover, Grant’s photo showed him a little older than ten years ago. But his eyes hadn’t changed.

My son had gasped down his last breaths of oxygen at thirty-six hundred feet, and Grant had sent away the only sub that could reach him. All because Liana had cried into the phone, “Grant, Cora fell in the water.”

She’d been in the shallows. She lost her footing and swallowed some water.

I closed my eyes and pushed the file to the corner of the table.

My phone buzzed. A message from Chase.

[The client wants to speak directly with the technical lead. Should I put him through?]

I stared at the screen, chewing it over.

Then I typed back two words.

“Put him through.”