Five Years Diving for a Husband Who Faked His Death

4: 4

With the agency's help, I made everything public: the original raw footage, the signed contract on file, and a full statement clearing my name.

At the same time I announced that I was ending all deep-sea search work for good. I would never dive again.

Public opinion flipped fast. The gentle, kind persona my sister had built came crashing down, and every ounce of goodwill she'd banked from strangers was wiped clean.

I was still in the hospital receiving treatment when Brad Simmons walked in with a tablet in his hand.

"Your sister's gone live."

On the screen, Kayla faced the camera, her eyes rimmed red.

Her shoulders trembled faintly as she choked out her side of it.

"I wasn't thinking that far ahead! I just saw how worn out she was, body and soul, so I wanted to help her sort through the footage."

"It was only because I couldn't reach her that I posted it from my own account."

When people online asked why she'd faked her death to be with her own sister's husband, and even had a child with him.

She dabbed at her tears, all frailty.

"It's true my sister can't have children. But the Sanchez line can't just die out because of that."

"My sister and I share blood. A child Daniel and I have is at least one degree closer to her than a child he'd have with some stranger."

Her best friend rushed to defend her.

"May's got a stubborn streak. We were afraid she'd stay trapped forever in the pain of not being able to have kids."

"Kayla's child is really a way of helping May, too."

Kayla nodded along, selfishness flickering at the back of her eyes even as her voice stayed innocent.

"I never once wanted to take everything from my sister. I just couldn't bear to watch her spend her whole life suffering in a hollow marriage."

"Daniel and I had no choice either. The child is already here. It's all settled now."

"I only hope my sister can let go of her fixation and stop grinding us all down, family tearing at family."

The people in the livestream were led astray, one after another urging me to be gracious and forgiving, twisting the very restraint and hurt I'd swallowed into stubbornness and a narrow, petty heart.

Countless cruel comments came at me, all wrapped in that same bias, and yet I lay back against the hospital bed with nothing stirring inside me.

The fine damage years of deep diving had left on my brain had dulled my ability to feel anything at all, more and more.

The hurt, the resentment, the betrayal that once could have broken me couldn't raise the faintest ripple now.

Maybe it was guilt. Because I actually saw Daniel Sanchez walk into the room.

His tone was soft, and every word cut to the bone.

"Don't take the rumors online to heart. I know you're hurting."

"Kayla isn't bad at heart. She just lost her way for a while."

"When it comes down to it, this isn't some huge thing. The two of you are blood. There's no need to burn it all down."

"Let the old grievances go. From now on I'll treat you well. I won't let you be wronged again."

I looked at him, and inside me there was nothing but a flat, cold blank.

The storm of public opinion hadn't shaken me in the slightest, but his hollow comfort reached my ears.

And then my brain suddenly buzzed and stabbed, a dull ache swarming out thick and dense through my whole body.

Daniel was still murmuring his advice.

But the pressure in my skull kept building, the pain swallowing every sense, the memories in my mind starting to blur.

The strength drained out of me. My eyes slowly lowered, and I slumped limp onto the hospital bed.

By the time Brad and Daniel scrambled to check on me.

I lifted my eyes, gazing at them in a daze, and asked softly,

"Who are you?"