I intercepted the bodyguards, took the strand of hair from my son, and walked up to Victor.

I dropped the hair onto the coffee table. Looked at him like he was garbage.

"Test it."

My voice was terrifyingly calm. "But Victor... you won't be able to handle the consequences."

Victor opened his mouth to explode, but Elena suddenly clutched her chest and let out a pained whimper.

"Brother Victor... I don't feel well. My heart... it hurts."

Her face went deathly pale as she slid toward the floor.

Victor's rage vanished instantly, replaced by panic. He shoved me aside and rushed to scoop her up.

"Elena! Where's the medicine? Get the car! Hurry!"

He carried her toward the door. As he passed me, he didn't spare me a single glance.

He only threw a cold order over his shoulder: "Watch this crazy woman and her bastard! They don't leave until I get those results!"

The room emptied in a chaotic rush.

I stood there, watching his retreating back.

It was the same five years ago. As long as Elena frowned, the world had to stop turning. Even if I was lying in a delivery room, hemorrhaging my life away.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a crumpled, yellowing newspaper clipping. The photo showed Victor at the hospital, tearing up my ultrasound scan.

I crushed the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

Then I dialed an encrypted number.

"Hello."

"The item can be salvaged."

Three days later, at the seaside dock.

The wind cut like a blade.

Victor's car was parked by the water. He stood in the gale, clutching the unopened paternity test. Elena was wrapped in his cashmere coat, shivering beside him. Her cheeks were rosy, showing no sign of her alleged heart condition.

I walked over, holding my son's hand. A bodyguard stepped forward to block us.

Victor shook the manila envelope, eyes dark. "You want this?"

He pointed to the churning, bottomless water at his feet.

"Elena accidentally dropped her heirloom ring. It's a Sanchez family treasure; it cannot be lost."

He stared at me, lips curling into a cruel smile. "Victoria, I heard you do deep-sea salvage abroad now?"

"Since you're so capable, fetch it for Elena."

A blatant attempt to humiliate me.

The late autumn water was cold enough to induce hypothermia within minutes, and the currents here were treacherous.

Elena tugged at Victor's sleeve, feigning concern. "Brother Victor, forget it. If the ring is lost, it's lost. The water is too cold, and Sister's health is weak... don't make her go."

Her mouth said *no*, but her eyes danced with malicious anticipation.

Victor's voice was ice. "That was your wedding ring. It must be found."

He sneered at me. "Isn't she a professional? If she can't handle a simple retrieval, what right does she have to throw around fifty million dollars?"

I ignored their performance. Bent down and handed the child to my assistant. Then I stripped off my coat, revealing the black wetsuit underneath.

"Conditions," I said, checking the oxygen tank.

"I bring it up, you destroy that report on the spot. From then on, the Sanchez family and I are square. This child has nothing to do with you."

Victor looked stunned for a moment, then scoffed. "In such a hurry to destroy it? You know the results will ruin you. Fine. I accept."

In his eyes, my confidence was just guilt.

I pulled on my goggles, bit down on the regulator, and jumped.

*Splash!*

The gray-black water swallowed me whole.

On the shore, the monitoring screen lit up, displaying the real-time feed from my suit. My heart rate remained a steady, flat line.

Victor stared at the screen, brows furrowed. The water temperature was forty-six degrees. My calm irritated him.

Visibility was poor, the water murky with silt.

Suddenly, without warning, a violent riptide slammed into me.

Someone had tampered with the line.

The air supply hose shuddered violently. Oxygen cut out. Suffocation clamped down like a vice, squeezing my chest until my ribs screamed.

My head jerked up. Through the murky water, the operator's silhouette thrashed against the surface—hands working the line, sawing, cutting.

Elena Mason had bought him. She wanted me dead.

On the monitoring screen above, my heart rate held steady. No thrashing. No panic.

I reached behind my back. Severed the main hose. Twisted open the valve on my backup mini-cylinder.

*Child's play.*

The current caught me. I flipped, broke free of the undertow, and plunged into the silt of the seabed. Rust and rot surrounded me—scrap iron, tangled nets, the bones of forgotten ships.

A faint glint.

My fingers hooked like talons and snatched the ring.

Three minutes later, I broke the surface.

Water streamed down my face as I hauled myself onto the pier. Drenched. Shivering. Pale as a corpse.

But my eyes?

Sharp as blades.

Victor Sanchez recoiled. One involuntary step back.

I didn't slow down. Didn't stop. I strode straight toward Elena Mason.

Right in front of Victor, I held up the so-called heirloom ring. My fingers tightened.

*Crack.*

The gem-set band crushed into a distorted oval. I tossed it. It rolled across the concrete and clinked against Elena's custom leather shoe.

"Fake." I ripped the respirator from my face. "Just like your people—gold-plated trash."

Where I'd crushed it, the plating had flaked away. Underneath? Cheap, tarnished brass.

Elena's face drained white. Her gaze shot to Victor in naked panic.

Victor stared at the ring on the ground. Then at me—dripping wet, looking like a vengeful spirit risen from the deep.

He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Slowly, he bent down. Picked up the deformed band. The mottled corrosion of brass stung his eyes, and his face turned ashen.

His head whipped toward Elena.

The accusation stuck in his throat.

Then—

The giant LED advertising screen on the pier flared to life.