Eleven Hundred Meters of Pure Regret

I filed for divorce the exact moment I discovered my wife had redirected the only rescue pod capable of saving our daughter from the deep ocean—all to save her childhood sweetheart’s son, who had merely swallowed a mouthful of water at a shallow beach.

After the papers were signed, I threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a man possessed. I spent a decade learning the dark currents of this ocean until I knew them better than my own living room, eventually becoming the only specialist capable of executing a rescue at a depth of a thousand meters.