Chapter 1

As the only expert capable of carrying out a rescue dive to depths of roughly 3,000 feet, I was hired for a salvage operation worth several million dollars.

More than ten years ago, I had dived in those very waters.

Back then, my son's research submersible was damaged on the seafloor, and he suffocated in the darkness after his oxygen ran out.

I was devastated.

My husband, Edward Grant, held me through it all and stayed by my side through countless nights when grief felt unbearable.

It was only later that I learned the truth.

That day, he had diverted the only rescue submersible capable of reaching that depth because he wanted to save the daughter of his childhood sweetheart.

That girl had only choked on some water in the shallows.

After that day, I divorced him and threw myself into deep-sea salvage and rescue work, repeating the same missions until I knew the currents and hidden dangers of those waters better than I knew my own home.

All I wanted was to make sure no other family would ever have to suffer the kind of tragedy that had taken my son.

Now, more than a decade later, it was the same waters, the same kind of crushed submersible, and the same desperate situation with the oxygen supply exhausted and the risk of death extraordinarily high.

The moment I saw the client's information, I froze.

I could never forget that name or that face, not for the rest of my life.

I smiled and handed the file back to my co-worker. "I can't make this dive."

"Josie, are you serious?" Jack Turner snatched the file from my hand and spread it open in front of me again. "It's 3 million. Do you have any idea how many risks we have to take to make that kind of money?

"If you're refusing the job, you need to give us a proper reason."

I put my gloves back on and started going through the diving equipment as I did every day. "I'm not taking it. That's all."

"Then look at this." Jack flipped to the back of the file. "The submersible's hull is badly deformed, and there's less than twenty-four hours of oxygen left. There's a person trapped inside. A twenty-three-year-old girl."

My fingers stopped on the control knob.

My son, Logan, had been twenty-three when he died.

"Josie, you're the only person here who can carry out a docking rescue at that depth." Jack leaned closer and lowered his voice. "If you don't go, she's going to die."

I tightened the valve, then turned to face him. "Jack, you've been working with me for seven years. When have I ever turned down a job because of something like this?"

He froze. "Then why?"

I didn't answer.

"Whether you know her or not, it doesn't matter." Jack grew agitated and grabbed my arm. "They're offering a lot of money."

"I wouldn't take it for 30 million." I pulled my arm free, my voice still calm. "Don't ask me why. In seven years, you can count on one hand the number of jobs I've refused. You have to trust me."

Jack's face turned red. He looked like he had a hundred things he wanted to say but couldn't get any of them out.

He had been working with me for seven years. He had been there when I first earned my deep-diving certification and started taking jobs out of a little shed I rented by myself.

He had seen me get three ribs broken when a powerful current threw me against the equipment at a depth of more than 1,300 feet.

He had seen me drag a child who had already stopped breathing back onto the deck, then crouch at the stern and dry-heave for an entire night.

However, he had never seen me like this.

"Fine." Jack closed the file and slammed it onto the table. "I trust you."

He turned toward the door, then stopped before leaving. His voice was low and heavy. "That girl is still alive. If you change your mind, we'll be ready to go."

The door closed.

I stood alone in the equipment room, staring at the file Jack had thrown onto the table.

On the cover was a photo of Edward. He looked a little older than he had ten years ago, but his eyes were exactly the same.

Logan had used up his last breath of oxygen, one painful breath at a time, more than 3,600 feet beneath the surface, while Edward had diverted the only rescue submersible capable of reaching him.

It was all because Linda had cried over the phone and said, "Edward, Cara fell into the water."

She had been in the shallows. She had simply lost her footing and swallowed some water.

I closed my eyes and pushed the file toward the edge of the table.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Jack. [The client called. They want to speak directly with the technical lead. Should I put them through?]

I stared at the message for a long time before finally replying, [Put them through.]

"Hello. Am I speaking with the technical lead for the deep-sea rescue?" The voice on the other end was calm and arrogant.

Ten years had passed, but I still remembered that voice. "Yes. Go ahead."

My own voice was nothing like it used to be. Ten years of deep-sea work had permanently damaged my vocal cords, worn down by the equipment and the harsh underwater environment.

"Good. I'm Edward Grant from Oceanis Group. I assume you've already reviewed the situation." He paused. "Name your price."

"I'm not taking the job," I said.

There was silence on the phone for a moment. Then he laughed. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I said, name your price. Pick any number you want."

"I said I'm not taking it."

"15 million." There wasn't a hint of hesitation in his voice, as if he had casually thrown out a number. "15 million in cash. Half when you go down, and the other half when you bring her back up.

"At that price, no one else in the world could possibly compete."

I said nothing.

Thinking I was considering his offer, he kept raising the stakes. "I can offer you stock, too. Half a percent of Oceanis Group's shares, transferred to your name. You'll receive dividends every year."

"Mr. Grant," I cut him off. "When I say I'm not taking the job, I'm not negotiating the price with you."

The breathing on the phone grew heavier. "Then tell me why."

"There's no special reason. I have the right to refuse."

"The right to refuse?" His voice suddenly turned cold. "Do you understand what's happening down there? The submersible is more than 3,000 feet below the surface, and its hull is already badly deformed. There's a person trapped inside."

"I know."

"Do you? And you're still going to refuse?"

His voice grew faster and more agitated. "You're the only person here who can reach that depth, and you won't think about it before turning me down. You're leaving someone to die."

My grip tightened around the phone. "Leaving someone to die? Mr. Grant, it's interesting to hear those words coming from you."