Deep Sea Betrayal

In my past life, I was performing emergency pipeline repairs 300 meters beneath the ocean when my oxygen line ruptured.

I swam back for help, only to have my wife, Summer Yates, and her first love, Zachary Gibson, lock me out of the diving bell.

Not only did they ignore whether I lived or died, but they also started live-streaming an extreme no-oxygen endurance challenge to the entire internet. In the end, I suffocated and drowned.

Even after my death, Summer and Zachary smeared my name, calling me a deranged saboteur, while they ran off together with my massive life insurance payout.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the exact moment I was banging on the hatch.

Right on cue, Summer's sweet, teasing chuckle came through the comm. "All units, don't open the hatch. Carter wants to attempt an extreme challenge today. He's going to swim back to the surface without oxygen!"

Immediately after, Zachary's voice followed, trembling with excitement. "Babe, the sponsors said if Carter succeeds this time, I'll be the lead director on next month's million-dollar documentary series!"

In my past life, I had begged them through mouthfuls of blood, only to be met with Summer's impatient urging.

"Stop wasting your energy. You should save your oxygen and start swimming up. You're such a strong swimmer. Just hold on for another half hour, and you'll make Zachary's dream come true!"

Now, as I listened to this pair of scumbags plot against me, I sneered and cut the communication. I raised the highest-powered underwater cutting torch in my hand and aimed it directly at the main load-bearing cable connecting the diving bell to the surface vessel above.

They wanted me dead, so none of them would be leaving alive either.

Summer Yates' impatient voice pierced through my bone conduction earpiece. "Stop playing dead! Just save your oxygen and start swimming up already! Quit banging around down there. You're ruining the livestream."

I stopped knocking.

In the pitch-black darkness 300 meters below, only the blinking red light on my dive mask cut through the void.

The display read: [Primary Oxygen Line Pressure: Zero. Emergency Reserve Remaining: 3 minutes 15 seconds.]

Summer's shrill voice urged me to start swimming through the comm. "Carter Lawson! Are you deaf?! The sponsor's camera is pointed right at you! Turn around right now and swim toward the surface!

"Make sure you look good doing it. Show everyone the ultimate willpower of a professional diver! If you dare screw up Zachary's documentary on camera, you and I are done when you get back!"

Listening to that familiar, nauseating voice, I did not cry or beg for mercy as I had in my past life.

The temperature at 300 meters was barely above freezing. Yet, my heart felt colder than this water itself.

I glanced down at the multi-function tactical display on my wrist. The oxygen countdown had already dropped.

[2 minutes 45 seconds].

I knew that for a human body, swimming from 300 meters below without oxygen and without any decompression protocol was not an 'extreme challenge'; it was a guaranteed death sentence.

The water pressure at that depth would instantly crush my internal organs into pulp.

Summer and Zachary Gibson were not ignorant. They knew exactly what would happen. They wanted me dead, and they wanted my death to be valuable, to bring explosive traffic to Zachary's documentary.

I took a deep breath of the stale air remaining in my mask and forced myself to stay calm. Instead of turning to swim upward, I raised my right hand, still encased in the heavy, pressure-resistant glove, and tapped the hidden control valve on the side of my helmet three times.

With a beeping sound, the independent black box was activated.

"High-definition audio and video recording in progress."

Only I knew that this latest prototype dive suit had a built-in independent storage module that was not connected to the surface vessel.

It would record everything that was about to happen.

Summer asked, "Carter? What the hell are you doing? Why aren't you moving?"

Zachary's voice cut in, laced with condescending irritation. "Do you have any idea how many followers the livestream just lost because you're stalling? Are you trying to ruin this?"