Chapter 4

It had been a full forty-eight hours since I went missing while diving.

Freda was with Basil at the store, picking out a crib.

"Freda, what do you think of this natural wood one? It looks eco-friendly, and there's no chemical smell."

Basil leaned back on the sofa, a tablet in his hand.

Freda carried a glass of warm water over and set it down beside him.

"Whatever you like. I'll go along with you."

Her phone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number.

Freda answered casually, her tone carrying a trace of irritation at being disturbed.

"Hello, who is this?"

A serious voice came from the other end, from the coast guard.

"Excuse me, is this Ms. Henson? This is the Southern Coast Rescue Center."

Freda frowned slightly.

"Yes, that's me. What is this about?"

"Your fiancé, Mr. Keith Simmons, went missing forty-eight hours ago while diving in the Blue Hole waters. We've just recovered some of his belongings. Please come in as soon as possible to confirm them."

Freda gave a soft laugh, as if she'd just heard an absurd joke.

"Missing? He only went diving to clear his head. Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"

"Mr. Simmons's ID number has been verified, and the instructor who accompanied him has confirmed his identity. A rare deep undercurrent occurred in those waters two days ago."

The smile on Freda's face slowly froze.

She shot to her feet, knocking over the glass on the table.

Warm water spilled all across the floor.

"Freda, what's wrong?" Basil was startled.

Freda ignored him, snatched up the car keys, and rushed out.

"Something urgent came up at the company. I'll be back later."

The whole way there, she kept the accelerator floored.

Her mind was still racing, trying to rationalize all of it.

Did he find something out, and is he throwing a fit at me?

He's such a strong swimmer—how could anything have happened to him?

It wasn't until she rushed into the rescue center and saw what was laid out on the table.

An oxygen tank washed back by the current, and a diving suit shredded to tatters by the rocks.

And a dive watch with a broken strap.

The officer handed her a confirmation form.

"Ms. Henson, please confirm whether these are Mr. Simmons's belongings."

Freda stared hard at the watch.

The scratches along the edge of the dial—she had seen them with her own eyes just days ago.

The screws on the waterproof ring—she had tightened them with her own hands.

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably; she couldn't grip the pen at all.

Her stomach churned. She shoved the chair back, rushed to the trash can beside her, and began to retch violently.

"Ms. Henson, are you all right?"

Freda straightened up, her eyes bloodshot.

"It's not possible... He's a very good swimmer, there's no way anything happened to him!"

Just then, a black sedan pulled up outside the rescue center.

The lawyer I'd hired walked in carrying a briefcase.

"Ms. Henson, I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances."

The lawyer took a thick stack of documents out of his bag.

"These are the notarized documents Mr. Simmons entrusted me to handle before he left."

Freda stared hard at the lawyer.

"What documents?"

"The conditions under which the asset liquidation takes effect." The lawyer pushed his glasses up in a strictly businesslike manner.

"Before Mr. Simmons went diving, he had already completed the transfer of all core assets in his name to an overseas trust. All he left you are these few documents."

"What did you say?"

Freda's face went deathly pale in an instant. She grabbed the documents and flipped through them rapidly.

The lawyer handed over a sealed file envelope.

"This is the last thing your fiancé left behind."