After I Jumped Into The Sea The Arrogant Young Master Went Mad With Regret

In the capital's elite circles, it was an open secret: Victor Sanchez would sacrifice anything for his sworn younger sister.

When he came to settle the score with me on her behalf for the tenth time, I finally abandoned my usual composure. I didn't argue. I simply threw myself into the ocean.

When I returned to the capital, rumors of my death still lingered like a bad smell.

"Did you hear? When Mrs. Sanchez jumped to her death, she was three months pregnant."

"Mr. Sanchez dove in right after her, but they never found the body. It's been his inner demon ever since."

Our reunion happened at an auction.

Victor stared at the boy next to mea shrunken version of himselfand looked as if he were losing his mind. "You were really pregnant back then? You actually gave birth?"

I twisted the ring on my finger and scoffed. "You have a bad habit of claiming children that aren't yours."

Victor toyed with his auction paddle, expression regaining its icy calm. But halfway through the event, his gaze drifted back to the child.

In the corner, the boy was absorbed in a game of make-believe. He wore a tailored miniature suit that could have been cut from the same bolt of fabric as Victor's.

Victor's heart slammed against his ribs. Something clawed at himan indescribable sense of familiarity. He watched the child in the front row swing his short legs back and forth.

That face.

An exact replica of his own.

It felt like the cruelest joke in the entire venue.

Victor moved.

He vaulted over the seats, radiating a terrifying, murderous energy. Security didn't dare intervene. The guests fell silent.

His hand shot out, fingers hooked like claws, reaching for the boy's collar.

The child didn't flinch. He simply looked up. In eyes that mirrored my own, there was nothing but cold indifference.

Just as Victor's hand was about to make contact, a shadow sprang from the side.

A hand clad in a black tactical glove clamped onto his wrist.

I applied full pressure.

Veins bulged on the back of Victor's hand. His bones creaked under the strain. He tried to shake me off, grimacing, but my grip was iron.

His gaze traveled up my arm until it crashed into my icy stare.

Victor's eyes widened.

He stared at my face as if seeing a ghost, forcing two words through gritted teeth. "Victoria Hughes?"

The venue erupted.

"Victoria Hughes? Mr. Sanchez's ex-wife? The one who committed suicide five years ago?"

"I thought they never found the body! How is she still alive?"

"I heard she was pregnant with a bastard back then. Jumped because she was too ashamed to face anyone..."

The gossip buzzed like a swarm of flies.

Expressionless, I flung his hand away hard enough to make him stumble. I bent down, straightened the boy's bow tie, and rose to my full height.

Slowly, I peeled off the glove, revealing a palm roughened by years of saltwater exposure.

I looked at Victor coldly. "Mr. Sanchez, you have the wrong person. I am this child's father, not your ex-wife."

Behind Victor, Elena Mason covered her mouth and shrieked. "A ghost! Brother Victor, she's a ghost!"

She cowered behind him, trembling in theatrical terror.

Victor instinctively pulled her into his armsa reflex carved into his very bones. Once he had soothed Elena, he turned back to me. The shock in his eyes had curdled into something darker.

Disgust.

Even after five years, his gaze was sharp enough to draw blood.

Victor sized me up. His eyes swept over my cargo pants and combat boots before finally landing on the child.

He sneered. "You didn't die, just hid for five years? What's the matter, couldn't make it on your own? Came crawling back with this bastard to beg for money?"

He looked at me like I was a stray dog wagging its tail for scraps.

"Victoria, that outfit... is it even worth five hundred dollars? Can that lover of yours not afford to keep you anymore?"

Snickers rippled through the crowd.

I didn't look at him. I took the Rubik's cube from the child's hand and set it on the table.

I raised the bidding paddle.

My voice, clear and cold, sliced through the room. "Fifty million."

The venue exploded.

This was a plot of land Victor was determined to acquire; the starting price was only twenty million. The mockery on his face froze mid-sneer.

The auctioneer, trembling with excitement, brought the gavel down.

A staff member rushed over with a card terminal. I rolled up my sleeve, exposing the jagged, hideous scar on my wrista brand left by deep-sea decompression sickness. Proof that I had spent the last five years risking my life.

I swiped the card and signed. Fluid. Practiced.

"One more thing." I stuffed the black card back into my pocket and met Victor's stare head-on. "Mr. Sanchez, if you aren't using your eyes, donate them. Get out of my way."

I took the child's hand and turned to leave.

Victor's face darkened like a gathering storm. He signaled his bodyguards.

The main doors slammed shut. A dozen men in black suits blocked the exit.

Victor shoved Elena aside and stalked toward me, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped. "You want to leave? Not until you explain yourself. Whose bastard is this?"

He jabbed a shaking finger at the child, eyes venomous. "Here to extort me? I don't mind verifying it right now and making you disappear for good this time."

In the auction house's backstage lounge, a dozen burly men surrounded the boy and me, leaving no room for escape.

Victor lounged on the sofa, legs crossed in arrogant repose, twirling the ring on his pinky. His gaze was pitch-black.

"Speak, Victoria."

A dossier slammed onto the coffee tablea private investigator's report from five years ago.

"Who did you sleep with to get that fifty million? Or did you sell your body to earn it?"

Every word dripped poison.

Elena cradled a teacup, eyes rimmed with red, looking delicate and pitiful.

"Sister, don't be angry with Brother Victor. Just tell us who the father is, and the Sanchez family will give you some money."

Her gaze flickered toward Victor's lap. She lowered her voice just enough for everyone to hear. "After all, everyone knows about Brother Victor's diagnosis... his low sperm count."

"If you insist the child is a Sanchez, aren't you just rubbing salt in his wound?"

She really knew how to twist the knife.

My son laughed. A crisp sound, but coldunnervingly mature for a child. He unwrapped a piece of gum, chewed twice, and fixed Elena with a steady look.

"Auntie, your perfume is strong. It smells like the insecticide we use in our toilet at home."

Elena's face stiffened. Tears threatened to spill.

Victor shot to his feet and raised his hand to strike the boy.

"Uneducated little bastard! You think you're worthy to speak to her?"

The slap sliced through the air, merciless.

I grabbed the heavy phone from the table and smashed it into the back of his hand.

*Crack.*

The screen shattered. Victor's hand instantly swelled, turning an angry red.

He hissed, clutching his hand as he stumbled back. "Victoria! You dare strike me over this mongrel?"

I pulled the child behind me. My eyes were glacial.

"Victor Sanchez, watch your mouth. Whether this child is a bastard or not, you know the truth in your heart."

Victor was so furious he laugheda manic, unhinged sound.

"Good. Very good!"

He roared at the bodyguards. "Drag this brat to get a DNA test!"

"I want the results now! I want the entire capital to see what kind of mongrel Victoria Hughes was carrying back then!"

A trembling finger stabbed toward my face. "I will prove my innocence! I will prove that I never touched a bitch like you!"

To humiliate me, he didn't hesitate to announce his own infertility to the public. His logic was twisted beyond redemption.

The bodyguards stepped forward to seize the boy.

My son didn't flinch. He calmly plucked a strand of hair from his own head and held it out.

I intercepted the bodyguards, took the strand of hair from my son, and walked up to Victor.

I dropped the hair onto the coffee table. Looked at him like he was garbage.

"Test it."

My voice was terrifyingly calm. "But Victor... you won't be able to handle the consequences."

Victor opened his mouth to explode, but Elena suddenly clutched her chest and let out a pained whimper.

"Brother Victor... I don't feel well. My heart... it hurts."

Her face went deathly pale as she slid toward the floor.

Victor's rage vanished instantly, replaced by panic. He shoved me aside and rushed to scoop her up.

"Elena! Where's the medicine? Get the car! Hurry!"

He carried her toward the door. As he passed me, he didn't spare me a single glance.

He only threw a cold order over his shoulder: "Watch this crazy woman and her bastard! They don't leave until I get those results!"

The room emptied in a chaotic rush.

I stood there, watching his retreating back.

It was the same five years ago. As long as Elena frowned, the world had to stop turning. Even if I was lying in a delivery room, hemorrhaging my life away.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a crumpled, yellowing newspaper clipping. The photo showed Victor at the hospital, tearing up my ultrasound scan.

I crushed the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

Then I dialed an encrypted number.

"Hello."

"The item can be salvaged."

Three days later, at the seaside dock.

The wind cut like a blade.

Victor's car was parked by the water. He stood in the gale, clutching the unopened paternity test. Elena was wrapped in his cashmere coat, shivering beside him. Her cheeks were rosy, showing no sign of her alleged heart condition.

I walked over, holding my son's hand. A bodyguard stepped forward to block us.

Victor shook the manila envelope, eyes dark. "You want this?"

He pointed to the churning, bottomless water at his feet.

"Elena accidentally dropped her heirloom ring. It's a Sanchez family treasure; it cannot be lost."

He stared at me, lips curling into a cruel smile. "Victoria, I heard you do deep-sea salvage abroad now?"

"Since you're so capable, fetch it for Elena."

A blatant attempt to humiliate me.

The late autumn water was cold enough to induce hypothermia within minutes, and the currents here were treacherous.

Elena tugged at Victor's sleeve, feigning concern. "Brother Victor, forget it. If the ring is lost, it's lost. The water is too cold, and Sister's health is weak... don't make her go."

Her mouth said *no*, but her eyes danced with malicious anticipation.

Victor's voice was ice. "That was your wedding ring. It must be found."

He sneered at me. "Isn't she a professional? If she can't handle a simple retrieval, what right does she have to throw around fifty million dollars?"

I ignored their performance. Bent down and handed the child to my assistant. Then I stripped off my coat, revealing the black wetsuit underneath.

"Conditions," I said, checking the oxygen tank.

"I bring it up, you destroy that report on the spot. From then on, the Sanchez family and I are square. This child has nothing to do with you."

Victor looked stunned for a moment, then scoffed. "In such a hurry to destroy it? You know the results will ruin you. Fine. I accept."

In his eyes, my confidence was just guilt.

I pulled on my goggles, bit down on the regulator, and jumped.

*Splash!*

The gray-black water swallowed me whole.

On the shore, the monitoring screen lit up, displaying the real-time feed from my suit. My heart rate remained a steady, flat line.

Victor stared at the screen, brows furrowed. The water temperature was forty-six degrees. My calm irritated him.

Visibility was poor, the water murky with silt.

Suddenly, without warning, a violent riptide slammed into me.

Someone had tampered with the line.

The air supply hose shuddered violently. Oxygen cut out. Suffocation clamped down like a vice, squeezing my chest until my ribs screamed.

My head jerked up. Through the murky water, the operator's silhouette thrashed against the surfacehands working the line, sawing, cutting.

Elena Mason had bought him. She wanted me dead.

On the monitoring screen above, my heart rate held steady. No thrashing. No panic.

I reached behind my back. Severed the main hose. Twisted open the valve on my backup mini-cylinder.

*Child's play.*

The current caught me. I flipped, broke free of the undertow, and plunged into the silt of the seabed. Rust and rot surrounded mescrap iron, tangled nets, the bones of forgotten ships.

A faint glint.

My fingers hooked like talons and snatched the ring.

Three minutes later, I broke the surface.

Water streamed down my face as I hauled myself onto the pier. Drenched. Shivering. Pale as a corpse.

But my eyes?

Sharp as blades.

Victor Sanchez recoiled. One involuntary step back.

I didn't slow down. Didn't stop. I strode straight toward Elena Mason.

Right in front of Victor, I held up the so-called heirloom ring. My fingers tightened.

*Crack.*

The gem-set band crushed into a distorted oval. I tossed it. It rolled across the concrete and clinked against Elena's custom leather shoe.

"Fake." I ripped the respirator from my face. "Just like your peoplegold-plated trash."

Where I'd crushed it, the plating had flaked away. Underneath? Cheap, tarnished brass.

Elena's face drained white. Her gaze shot to Victor in naked panic.

Victor stared at the ring on the ground. Then at medripping wet, looking like a vengeful spirit risen from the deep.

He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Slowly, he bent down. Picked up the deformed band. The mottled corrosion of brass stung his eyes, and his face turned ashen.

His head whipped toward Elena.

The accusation stuck in his throat.

Then

The giant LED advertising screen on the pier flared to life.