chapter1

My husband, to defend his designer, drugged me unconscious, locked me in a submarine, and dumped me at the bottom of the deep sea.

It all began that morning.

As always, I meticulously inspected every component of the Siren. As a marine engineer, I've always put safety first.

"This safety valve is responding too slowly," I said to the engineer beside me, pointing at the instrument panel. "If something goes wrong and it can't open in time, the entire vessel could be lost."

The engineer nervously rubbed his hands together. "Mrs. Winters, this setting was specified by Ms. Chloe. She said there were no problems during testing."

"Can testing conditions possibly match real situations?" I couldn't help raising my voice. "This is playing with people's lives!"

He lowered his head, not daring to respond. I continued my inspection, growing more alarmed with everything I saw. Chloe's design was riddled with flaws—it was like planting time bombs everywhere.

A few hours later at the company meeting, I listened to my husband Derek waxing eloquent about how innovative Chloe's design was. Unable to bear it any longer, I stood up and interrupted him directly.

"I'm sorry, but I have to speak the truth," I said, turning on the projector. "The Siren has serious safety issues."

I listed the problems one by one: slow safety valve response, backup power failing to connect, weak hull welding. With each point I made, the conference room grew quieter.

Chloe suddenly stood up in tears. "Nora, I know you look down on me, but you can't slander my design like this! Did you just make up this data?"

I was so angry I almost laughed. "I'm talking about safety issues, Chloe. If you can't even accept professional opinions, you shouldn't be in this field."

"Enough!" Derek slammed the table and rushed over to put his arm around Chloe. "Nora, I'm sick of your self-righteous attitude! Chloe is the real genius here—you're just jealous!"

Those words stabbed into my heart like knives. I looked at this man I had personally helped build up, now trampling all over my expertise. Without a word, I packed up my laptop and left.

That evening, Derek came home unexpectedly early and handed me a glass of red wine. "I was too harsh today," he said, his tone unusually gentle. "Have a drink and relax."

I looked at his shifty eyes, feeling something was off. But the exhaustion from recent days made me accept the wine glass anyway. The wine tasted strange, and right after I finished it, a wave of dizziness hit me.

The glass slipped from my hand, and the last thing I saw was Derek's expressionless face.

When I came to, I was lying in the cockpit of the Siren. Outside the window was pitch darkness, with occasional glowing fish swimming past.

"Awake?" Derek's voice came through the intercom. "You said Chloe's design was no good? Then experience it yourself."

I looked at the instrument panel showing we were already at three thousand meters below sea level. "Derek! Have you lost your mind?"

"Oh, and by the way, your predicament is being livestreamed globally," he said with a cold laugh. "People are even betting on how long you'll survive."

I looked up to see the livestream feed, with comments scrolling nonstop:

[Bet she won't last a day!] [I'm betting she'll make it!] [This woman's pretty good-looking, what a waste.]

I gripped the control panel tightly and took a deep breath. Then I opened the public maritime broadcast channel and spoke into the microphone:

"What are you waiting for? Come get me already."

......

A bone-chilling cold seeped through the submarine's metal hull. I curled up in front of the control panel, watching the cruel comments scrolling across the livestream screen. The deep-sea pressure made the bulkheads emit faint groans, and each sound made my heart leap with terror.

"How does it feel, Nora?" Derek's voice came through the communicator with a nauseating concern. "Is the deep-sea environment making you more clearheaded?"

I didn't answer. My fingers moved rapidly across the control panel, checking the life support system data. I knew that this submarine, designed by Chloe, could have deadly traps lurking everywhere.

"You know, the audience is very enthusiastic," Derek continued. "They've set up a betting platform for you, wagering on whether you can make it back alive. The odds aren't in your favor at the moment."

The livestream comments kept scrolling:

[Bet she breaks down first or admits she's wrong first!] [I'm putting a hundred bucks on her begging for mercy] [This woman's pretty stubborn]

My memory suddenly flashed back to six months ago. That day I had returned home early from a business trip and pushed open the bedroom door to find Derek and Chloe sitting on the bed, disheveled. Chloe nervously pulled her collar closed, while Derek leisurely lit a cigarette. "Since you've seen it, let's be direct. Chloe is now my design director."

"Design director?" I could hardly believe my ears. "She doesn't even understand basic fluid mechanics!"

Chloe timidly interjected, "Nora, I'll work hard to learn..."

Derek put his arm around her shoulder. "At least she knows how to appreciate my talent, instead of criticizing everything all day long."

Chloe's delicate voice rang out in the present: "Derek, don't say that... Nora must be so scared. As long as she's willing to admit her mistake and acknowledge that she misunderstood my design, we'll bring her up, okay?"

Anger made my fingertips go cold. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Derek, you know perfectly well the problems with this submarine. The emergency release valve on the main ballast tank..."

"Enough!" Derek cut me off sharply. "There you go again with your alarmist theories! Chloe's design is perfect—you're just nitpicking out of jealousy!"

I almost laughed out loud. Jealous? I, Nora Winters, heir to Winters Marine Technology, would be jealous of a designer who plagiarized her way to the top?

Just then, an indicator light on the control panel suddenly switched from green to red. The internal temperature was dropping rapidly.

"Derek, what are you doing?" I demanded.

His casual voice came through the communicator: "Just helping you experience the complete deep-sea environment. Since you're questioning Chloe's design, you should feel how all the systems operate, including the climate control system."

I watched helplessly as the temperature reading plummeted from a comfortable 22 degrees Celsius to 10 degrees, then to 5. The cold pierced through my clothes like needles, and my teeth began chattering uncontrollably.

"Beg for mercy, Nora," Derek's voice carried cruel pleasure. "Admit you were wrong, admit Chloe is a genius designer, and I'll restore the temperature control."