His Fatal Mistake, My Sweet Revenge

Trapped 3,000 meters beneath the sea, the submersible I designed was my coffin. The air was turning to poison.

But my fiancé, Jeffery, gave our only long-term life support-a CO2 scrubber I invented-to his social media star mistress.

"You're strong, Elaina," he said. "You can figure something out."

When I tried to use the emergency comms, he broke my wrist and smashed the console.

He and his mistress sealed the hatch, leaving me to die alone in the crushing dark.

He chose his career over my life. He chose her over me. The man I was supposed to marry would rather I suffocate at the bottom of the ocean than face a failed mission.

But as the blackness closed in, I remembered a secret. A tiny, personal emergency pinger I' d built into my glove. With my last bit of strength, I tore the seam with my teeth and slammed my hand against my head. A faint click echoed in the silence. My revenge had just begun.