The Ghost Bride's Game Of Revenge

After surviving five years of hell in a deep-sea simulation, I finally escaped, battered and broken. I fought my way back for one reason: my fiancé, Derek. But when I found him, he sealed me in a cave and left me to die.

"Just three more days, Eva," he pleaded, his hand holding my pregnant former assistant's. "Our wedding is on Saturday."

My own parents, who had adopted her as their new daughter, believed her lies that I was a monster. They watched as Derek broke my ankle and hand, and my father shattered my ribs.

They left me for dead, trapped and alone, after I had spent five years clinging to their memory.

But I didn't die. I was rescued by a mysterious benefactor who gave me a new life and erased my pain. A year later, when a guilt-ridden Derek tracked me down, begging for a second chance, I smiled. It was my turn to play a game.

Chapter 1

Eva POV:

My life, what was left of it, ended the day I found him again. Five years. Five years of hell to get back to a world that didn't want me anymore.

The submersible was gone. One moment, the deep-sea currents were a dance of shadows and light. The next, a violent shudder rocked us, and the abyss swallowed everything. They called it an anomaly. I called it a new beginning. My beginning.

Derek, my fiancé, my rock, must have been broken by my loss. He was. I heard the stories later, whispered in the cold, sterile rooms of my recovery. He tried to end it all. A desperate, jagged cut across his wrist, a crimson promise to follow me into the deep.

He swore to my parents, his eyes wet and red, that he would spend every waking moment, every penny, the next five years of his life, searching. He told them he' d rather die than live without me. His voice, raw with grief, echoed in the empty halls of their home. My parents, shattered by their daughter's presumed death, clung to his words like a lifeline.

"Five years," he choked out, his hand shaking as he gripped my father's arm. "If I don't find her, you'll never see me again."

He meant it. He spent the money. Every last cent of our shared savings, his inheritance, even his research grants went into charting expeditions, hiring experts, buying submersible equipment. He chased every whisper, every phantom signal. He lost weight. His clean-shaven face grew a rough beard, his eyes hollowed out, dark circles perpetually bruised beneath them. He looked like a ghost, haunted by my absence.

My parents watched him, their own hope flickering. After three years, they couldn't take it anymore. They stopped funding the searches, their faces etched with a grief I couldn't imagine. They moved on, adopting a young woman, a former lab assistant of mine, Casey, into our family. A new daughter, a new life, built on my grave.

But Derek didn't stop. Not until the fifth year. That's when his relentless, desperate hunt finally paid off.

I saw the searchlights first. A blinding beacon cutting through the underwater gloom, a promise of rescue. My heart hammered against my ribs, a forgotten rhythm. I was weak, starved, my clothes hanging in tatters, my skin a patchwork of scars. But I was alive. And I was coming home.

I stumbled out of the cavern, my feet barely supporting me. The air smelled of salt and damp earth. I saw him. Derek. He looked older, more worn, but it was him. My Derek.

A sob tore through my throat, a sound I hadn't made in years. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated relief, of a love that had defied death. I ran, my broken body propelled by a surge of adrenaline, towards him.

He stood there, frozen, his eyes wide, a flicker of something I couldn't quite decipher in their depths. Shock, maybe. Disbelief.

Then, his hand moved. Not towards me, but towards a small, remote detonator clipped to his belt.

A deafening roar ripped through the air. The ground beneath me trembled violently. Rocks, massive and jagged, rained down from above, sealing the entrance to the cave. My cave. My prison.

I watched, numb with horror, as the exit vanished behind a wall of twisted metal and pulverized stone. Dust and debris filled the air, choking me.

"Just... three more days, Eva," his voice was strained, barely audible over the settling debris, but the words cut through me like a physical blow. His face was a mask of agony, but his eyes were resolute. "Please. Just three more days."

My mind froze. My body, already battered and bruised, crumpled to the cold, damp ground.