The CEO's Disgraced Husband Is the Sea God's Commander

6

The icy rain hammered relentless rhythm against the double-paned windows.

Ginevra shifted uncomfortably on the lounge chair, her body stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. Her head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache. Still trapped in the groggy haze of sleep, she reached out blindly into the darkness, her knuckles brushing against empty air.

"Dante... fetch me a glass of warm water," she muttered, her voice raspy and rasped with habit. "And bring a second blanket. Luca is sleeping, don't make any noise..."

Silence. Only the sound of the raging storm answered her.

Ginevra’s eyelids fluttered open. The pitch-black ceiling of her master bedroom stared back at her. In an instant, a sharp, suffocating coldness burst through her chest, completely blowing away the remnants of her sleep.

Dante wasn't here.

Dante was still out on the sinking yacht.

She gasped, sitting bolt upright. The sheer panic hit her like a bucket of ice water. She lunged for the nightstand, her trembling hands groping frantically in the dark until her fingers wrapped around her heavy phone.

The screen flickered to life. The glaring, crimson notifications pierced the dark room.

42 Missed Calls. Maritime Rescue Command Center.

Ginevra’s heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes widened in sheer horror. Forty-two calls. She had slept through forty-two life-or-death emergencies while sitting comfortably in a warm villa.

"Ginevra?" Luca stirred beside her, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy, innocent frown. "What’s wrong? Why did you get up so fast?"

"I... I forgot Dante," Ginevra whimpered, her hands shaking so violently she could barely unlock the screen. Her voice was cracked, laced with a hysteria she had never felt before. "I fell asleep, Luca... I forgot he was still in the ocean! The rescue team... they’ve been calling me all night!"

Before Luca could offer a breath of his insidious comfort, the phone violently vibrated in her grip.

Incoming Call: Maritime Rescue Command.

Ginevra practically threw the phone to her ear, stumbling off the lounge chair and clutching the edge of the dresser to keep herself from collapsing.

"Hello?! Hello!" she screamed into the receiver, her commanding, icy corporate demeanor completely shattered into pieces.

"Is this the actual wife of the victim?!" The rescue captain's roar boomed through the speaker, thick with intense, unfiltered fury. "Why haven't you answered your phone?! Do you have any idea how many rescue teams we risked sending out into a Category 4 storm tonight while you were busy sleeping?!"

"I'm sorry! I had an emergency—" Ginevra choked out, tears finally breaking through her cold mask. "Did you find him? Did you get Dante off the boat?!"

"We recovered a body," the captain interrupted, his tone instantly dropping into an icy, deadened flatline that froze the air in the room. "An hour ago. Floating near the wreckage. The physical description matches your husband's."

The world seemed to lose all sound. Ginevra felt as if a heavy iron sledgehammer had smashed directly into her skull.

"A... a body?" she whispered, her vision spinning wildly.

"Get down to the morgue tent on the dock immediately to identify the corpse," the captain barked coldly. "Or don't bother. Since you clearly didn't care if he lived or died anyway."

Click. The line went dead.

The phone slid from Ginevra’s lifeless fingers, shattering its screen against the hardwood floor. She sank to her knees, clutching her head, her breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps.

Luca scrambled out of bed, rushing over to her side. But deep within his chest, a wave of ecstatic, murderous joy surged through his veins. He’s dead. The useless, blocking husband was finally a rotting corpse in the sea!

"Ginevra! Oh my god, Ginevra!" Luca held her shoulders, forcing a face of profound, devastated grief, forcing fake tears to spill over his cheeks. "No... no, it can't be! Dante was so strong! How could this happen?!"

He practically hoisted Ginevra to her feet, his voice urgent, faking a frantic panic: "We have to go! Grab your coat, Ginevra, we have to drive down to the docks right now! Maybe... maybe they made a mistake! We have to check on him!"

Luca led the trembling, hollowed-out Ginevra out of the bedroom, guiding her toward the top of the grand marble staircase. Inside, he was already planning how to take full control of her company once her grief settled.

Just as Luca reached the bottom step, reaching for the car keys on the entryway table—

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Three heavy, slow, rhythmic knocks echoed through the thick mahogany front door.

In the dead of night, amidst the roaring thunder, those steady, unhurried knocks sounded like the ticking of a death clock.

Luca froze dead in his tracks. Ginevra gasped, clutching Luca's arm, her whole body trembling in the dark hallway.

"Who... who is that?" Luca swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice tough, but a sharp tremor leaked through his words. He glared at the door, yelling nervously, "Who's out there?! The rescue team?! Speak up!"

No answer. Only the howling wind outside.

"Stay behind me, Ginevra," Luca said, putting on a brave front to show off. "It's probably just a passerby looking for shelter."

Shaking like a leaf, Luca wobbly crept toward the grand entrance. His fingers gripped the brass door handle. He unlocked it, pulling the heavy mahogany door open just a crack.

A gust of icy wind blew in, but no rain hit his face.

Standing on the porch, framed by the pitch-black night, was a tall, shadow-drenched man.

Luca squinted into the gloom. Then, a blinding bolt of white lightning ripped across the sky behind the figure.

The light illuminated the man's face.

His dark clothes were pristine, completely, impossibly bone-dry. His posture was towering, radiating an overwhelming, deadly aura. He stood there quietly, staring down at Luca with eyes that belonged to a corpse—or a god returning from hell.

BOOM!

A deafening crack of thunder shook the entire concrete foundation of the villa.

"Gah—! AAAHHH!"

Luca let out an ear-splitting, pathetic shriek of absolute, unfiltered horror. The color drained from his face until he looked like a dead man himself. His weak knees buckled, and he collapsed backward onto the floor like a sack of rocks.

Scrambling backward on his elbows in sheer, paralyzed panic, Luca's jaw worked up and down, his teeth clicking violently together as he squeaked out a shattered whisper:

"D-D... Dan... Dante...?"