Chapter 2

"Get the hyperbaric chamber ready! Now!"

Julian checked my pupils and the response in my limbs, his face draining of color.

The Leviathan had two hyperbaric units on board, but the multi-person chamber was offline for scheduled maintenance.

There was only a single-occupancy chamber available.

Julian pointed straight at me. "Get Chloe inside immediately."

Right then, Veronica gasped, clutching her chest.

"I can't breathe..." she sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Director Vance, it hurts... everything hurts."

My mother wrapped her arms around her instantly.

Julian cast a quick glance over. "Her vitals are stable, speech is clear, and her motor functions are intact. Put her on high-flow oxygen and monitor her. Chloe is already showing active neurological deficits. She takes priority."

Veronica looked up, trembling, her face wet with tears. "It’s okay... let Chloe go first. She’s the Director’s daughter. She deserves priority."

The cameras were still rolling.

On the giant monitor mounted to the bridge bulkhead, the live chat was exploding.

Is the Director’s daughter really cutting the line for the life-saving chamber?

Nepo babies make me sick.

Shame on her!

The mission coordinator, Frank, leaned close to my mother’s ear, whispering urgently, "Evelyn, there are ten million people on this stream. The comments are already turning vicious."

My mother went stiff.

Her greatest fear in life was being accused of favoritism.

Every award I had ever won, she made me surrender. Every injury I suffered, she called a "necessary sacrifice" for the greater good.

"Chloe," my mother said, kneeling down, her eyes scanning me anxiously. "What are you feeling right now?"

"My legs are numb," I rasped, my tongue heavy. "Dizzy. Can't grip with my right hand."

Julian’s voice cut through like ice. "Type II Decompression Sickness. Neurological. Every minute we waste increases the chance of permanent, irreversible paralysis."

Veronica began coughing violently. "My dive watch glitched... the telemetry was wrong. I think I went way deeper than two hundred and thirty feet!"

Sure enough, the screen on Veronica's wrist was completely black.

It was my spare watch—one that had a low battery before we even jumped.

Now, she was using it as proof of a life-threatening plunge.

Julian knelt to test her deep tendon reflexes, but Veronica flinched away, screaming, "Don't touch me! It hurts too much!"

Even the onboard nurse gave Veronica a skeptical side-eye.

"My assessment stands," Julian insisted firmly. "Chloe goes in."

My mother’s face hardened. "Are you implying Veronica is faking?"

"I am looking at clinical facts."

"Her father died from decompression sickness!" my mother snapped, her voice rising for the broadcast microphones. "She says she has chest pain, and you're brushing it off as emotional?"

Julian stared directly into her eyes. "Director Vance. The person lying paralyzed on this deck is your daughter."

My mother flinched.

Frank tapped her shoulder, pointing at the monitor again. Words like Nepotism, Abuse of Power, and Corrupt Leadership were flooding the screen.

That did it.

"Put Veronica in the chamber," my mother commanded.

Julian whipped his head around. "Evelyn, are you out of your mind?!"

"I am the mission commander!" she barked. "I take full responsibility for all emergency protocols!"

The chamber hatch clicked open.

My mother personally helped Veronica to her feet.

As they walked past me, Veronica glanced down.

Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, but in her eyes, there was a cold, venomous smirk.

I reached out with my trembling, numb hand, catching the hem of my mother’s pants.

"Mom... just look at my telemetry. Please."

She paused, looking down.

A flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes.

Then she saw the camera lens pointed directly at her.

She yanked her leg away.

"Because you are my daughter, I cannot give you special treatment," she said, her voice loud, clear, and perfectly righteous for the audience. "You’ll just have to bear with it this time."

Bear with it.

Losing the ability to walk was just something I had to "bear with."

The heavy steel door of the chamber swung shut and sealed.

My mother pressed her palm against the small glass portal, comforting Veronica inside. "Don't be afraid, honey. I’m right here."

I lay three feet away on the cold deck.

A memory flashed into my mind—when I was seven, an undertow swept me against a sea wall. My mother had stayed by my hospital bed all night, weeping, swearing she would rather die than let me suffer.

The next second, the muscles in my right leg completely collapsed.

My knee slammed hard against the metal grating.

I didn't feel a thing.