Part 1Saltwater Sacrifice

When my wife’s chartered fishing boat sank, it left us buried under a mountain of debt.

I sold my ancestral home and spent my days and nights diving in the deep, dangerous waters. It took me five grueling years, but I finally paid it all off.

As I walked into the seafood restaurant, the last of the money clutched in my hand, still smelling of the sea, I saw her. My wife. She was feeding sashimi to another man, her one true love.

The restaurant owner was bowing at their side, obsequiously offering a dish of caviar. "Ms. Thorne," he stammered, "your husband just sold his last trawler to cover the final payment. About that money…"

She wiped a smudge of oil from her lover's lips, a lazy smile on her face. "Take it, of course. The usual deal. Seventy-thirty split." She looked at the man beside her. "My darling wants a private island in the Maldives. This should be enough for a few blades of grass, don’t you think?"

My phone buzzed. A news alert popped up on the screen.

‘Thorne Shipping becomes the nation’s largest maritime transport company as of 9:00 a.m. today.’

I tapped on the link. There, under the name of the chairwoman, Guinevere Thorne, was my wife's ID photo.

The pouch of money slipped from my grasp, its sharp edge slicing a bloody line across my palm.

Five years ago, Guinevere’s chartered boat sank, and we were left to pay for the damages. Three million dollars. I sold our family home and became a fisherman to make ends meet. I had just sold my last boat, the final remnant of my family’s legacy, to scrape together this last payment.

And now I find out that Guinevere is the chairwoman of the largest shipping company in the country. Even the boat owner, my supposed creditor, was just one of her lackeys.

He was now raising a glass to her. "Thank you, Ms. Thorne, for your guidance all these years. And for letting me earn a little extra on the side." He lowered his voice. "Once this is all over, I’ll find a way to run him off the island for good."

Guinevere waved a dismissive hand. "A fool like him who only believes in the Sea Goddess? Just tell him she came to you in a dream. He’d probably kill himself if she asked. That’s how I got him to give up his kidney, pretending to be lost at sea."

A chill shot through me, quickly replaced by a hot surge of rage.

Six years ago, her ship was caught in a typhoon. Thirteen people died. She was the only one missing. I spent my life savings trying to get the maritime authorities to help, but no one would listen. In the end, I dragged my broken body to the temple of the Sea Goddess and prayed until my forehead was raw.

"I beg you, great Goddess, I will give twenty years of my life for Guinevere’s safe return."

On the third day of my vigil, the statue seemed to glow, and a voice echoed in my mind, telling me it would take one of my kidneys to save her.

I didn't hesitate.

That night, I was drugged. When I woke up, the pain from the fresh incision was agonizing. But the next day, Guinevere miraculously returned. I’ve been a vegetarian ever since, a token of my gratitude.

And it was all a lie. A cruel scheme to treat her lover, Fabian.

I was shaking with fury, the beautiful memories of seven years ago swirling in my head. She had been a tourist, lost on the island when we met. It was love at first sight. I was her guide for weeks. Her confession of love was as grand and dramatic as a summer storm. She never once told me who she really was.

Fabian’s voice cut through my thoughts again. "How could a lowly fisherman like him ever be worthy of the great Ms. Thorne? If it weren’t for his family’s nautical charts, our Gwen would never have wasted her time on this pathetic wretch."

"Exactly," Guinevere laughed. "And it cost me a life, too. That old hag wouldn’t budge, so I swapped her cancer medication with vitamin pills. She probably would have lasted a few more years otherwise."

Their casual laughter pierced my eardrums, and a deathly cold spread through my body. When my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, there was an imported miracle drug that could have saved her. It cost over a million a bottle. Someone had offered me a fortune for our ancestral nautical charts. I was tempted, but my mother threatened to kill herself if I sold them.