Rebirth Over the Deep

The next day, a piercing phone ring jolted Alec awake, his head throbbing from a hangover.

His business partner's panicked voice came through. "Alec! We're in trouble! Our biggest investor, Mavis Fund, just pulled all their money! Not a cent left!"

Alec's mind buzzed, the haze of alcohol clearing instantly.

Mavis Fund.

It backed his company from the start, an angel investor that appeared out of nowhere.

For seven years, no matter how lavish his filming plans, they always said, "Go for it, Director Johnson. Money's no issue."

He always believed his talent won them over.

Mavis… Maeve…

A chilling thought, one he never entertained, crept into his mind.

Before he could process it, another call came.

The finance director, voice trembling. "Mr. Johnson! All our bank accounts are frozen! They're saying… commercial fraud and unfair competition!"

"Impossible!" Alec roared.

Then a third call, a fourth, a fifth…

"Director, all our distribution channels canceled their contracts!"

"Director, a joint task force from the tax and commerce bureaus is downstairs!"

"Director, the overseas partners for Ocean's Dream sent a massive compensation demand!"

Each blow hit like a fist, leaving him dizzy and unsteady.

His proud company, his life's work, crumbled within an hour.

Panic gripped him like never before.

He frantically dialed my number.

"Sorry, the user you've called is unavailable."

The cold automated voice pushed him deeper into despair with each try.

He collapsed onto the couch, staring at the chaos around him, my icy, unfamiliar gaze from yesterday replaying in his mind.

Only then did he realize everything he relied on, all his pride and success, came from the wife he underestimated.

The wife he pushed into the deep sea.

Fear grew like wildfire in his heart.

He scrambled like a headless fly, tapping every contact to track me down, to uncover the meaning of the "Zenith" emblem and Andrew's origins.

But his so-called connections clammed up at the mention of "Zenith Corporation," hanging up with flimsy excuses.

Zenith Corporation.

The nation's top business empire, a colossus that could shift fortunes with a flick of its wrist.

And I, Maeve, was the only granddaughter of its founder, Braden Wallace, the hidden heir holding thirty percent of its shares.

This truth crashed down like mountains, crushing Alec's last shred of hope and dignity.

He realized I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I was coming for his life.

He began messaging me frantically, his tone shifting from accusation and anger to panic and pleading. "Maeve, who are you? Why did you hide this from me? I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have forced you underwater. Please come back. Let's talk."

"Maeve, the company is my life's work. You can't destroy it! Seven years together—does that mean nothing to you?"

"I'm begging you, Maeve, answer my calls. I'll do anything if you come back!"

I stared at the flood of messages on my phone, expressionless, and blocked him.

Anything?

Too late.