Chapter 298

Chapter 298

Energy pipes and steel beams above the control room came crashing down with a thunderous roar.

"Richard!"

Margaret was held back by her team member as she turned around, only to see a waterfall of steel and flames swallow them both.

"Countdown ten, nine, eight..."

"Ms. Kennedy! Go!" The team member grabbed her and rushed toward the exit.

"No! Let me go!"

She stared desperately at the twisted pile of steel wreckage, flames devouring everything.

"Seven, six, five..."

"If we don't leave now, it'll be too late!"

The corridor emergency lights went out completely, the walls cracked, and seawater flooded in past their ankles.

Margaret's struggles grew weaker, like a puppet that had lost its soul.

"Four, three..."

The docking passage was right ahead. A black submersible hovered outside the breach.

The team member pushed her through the hatch.

"Two..."

"Close the door!"

The hatch sealed, power lever pushed to maximum.

"One."

"Self-destruct sequence initiated."

The submersible shot backward.

Margaret threw herself against the porthole.

In the deep sea, blinding white light erupted from within the steel behemoth.

A silent explosion occurred.

The "Ark's" hull was torn apart and vaporized, the destructive shockwave spreading outward.

The submersible was tossed and tumbled.

Margaret's forehead struck the porthole, but she felt no pain.

She watched that "sun" in the depths of the ocean.

The core detonation boiled miles of seawater.

A massive void formed and filled, triggering a deep-sea implosion.

Fire and giant waves celebrated wildly on the seafloor, 2,600 feet below.

After the light, absolute darkness.

On the sonar screen, the "Ark's" outline flickered twice, then vanished completely.

It was all over.

"Father's" legacy, the delusion of world destruction, and Richard, who had traded his life for thirty seconds.

All buried by fire and the deep sea.

The submersible stabilized and began ascending.

A team member asked hoarsely, "Ms. Kennedy, are you all right?"

Margaret didn't answer.

She stared silently at the ink-black darkness beyond the porthole.

The light had died.

Her world had gone dark with it.

The moment the submersible broke the surface, night wind carrying the scent of salt and sea rushed into the cramped cabin, dispersing the suffocating smell of death.

Outside was endless night, waves pounding against the hull with heavy, rhythmic sounds.

In the distance, lights from several ships raced toward them—the rescue fleet.

The world had regained its sound and order.

But Margaret's world remained dead silent.

She lay against the porthole, forehead pressed to the cold glass, as if trying to drain away her own body heat as well.

That "sun" in the depths had long since extinguished, leaving only infinite darkness.

"Ms. Kennedy, we're safe." The surviving team member's voice was hoarse, filled with the relief and exhaustion of having cheated death.

Margaret didn't move or speak.

She was like a frozen statue.

Not until the submersible was guided alongside a massive destroyer, the hatch opened, and uniformed personnel swarmed in, wrapping them in blankets and offering hot drinks.

"Contact command immediately. 'Ark' confirmed destroyed. 'The Shadow' core member Ebon Stark, most likely deceased." An officer-like figure was rapidly issuing orders.

"What about Richard Neville?"

A broken voice spoke up—quiet, but it made everyone around them fall silent instantly.

All eyes focused on Margaret.

She was wrapped in a gray blanket, her face pale as paper.

Those eyes, usually cold as ice, were now terrifyingly hollow.

The officer hesitated, his expression showing both difficulty and sympathy.

"Ms. Kennedy, based on the explosive yield and depth, and... our current understanding of the situation..."

He didn't finish, but the meaning was crystal clear.

No one could survive such an explosion.

"I need to go back," Margaret said.

She threw off the blanket and stood up, her body swaying slightly from exhaustion.

"Search and rescue. Now."

"Ms. Kennedy, please stay calm. That area is currently high-risk, with abnormal water temperatures and severe radiation residue. Rescue teams cannot enter immediately." The officer tried to calm her.

"I don't care." Margaret's gaze swept over him, containing nothing but non-negotiable command. "That's Richard's territory. He has ways. If you can't find him, I'll go find him myself."

She actually turned and started walking toward the submersible.

"Stop her!" the officer barked.

Two soldiers immediately stepped forward, grabbing her arms.

"Let go!" Margaret began struggling, her barely recovered strength utterly insignificant against professionally trained soldiers.

She used every ounce of her power, but it was futile.

Her voice finally carried a tremor of losing control. "Let me go! Do you hear me! He's still waiting for me!"

He was still waiting for her.

That phrase "This time I might... have to disappoint you" pierced the deepest part of her heart like a thorn.

No, Richard.

You can't disappoint me.

You haven't kept a single promise you made to me yet.

...

Search and rescue operations began twenty-four hours later, despite enormous risks.

Margaret refused to rest in the safe, warm ship's cabin and refused any form of sedation or treatment.

She stood on the destroyer's deck, wrapped in an ill-fitting black coat, like a statue waiting for her lover's return, watching that churning sea day and night without rest.

Sea wind whipped her long hair, slapping cold spray against her face—impossible to tell whether it was sea foam or tears.

Day one: no news.

Day two: sonar detected some massive metal debris, confirmed as fragments of the "Ark."

Day three: deep-sea submersibles brought something back from the seafloor 2,600 feet down.

When that sealed evidence box was brought before her, Margaret's heart skipped a beat.

A worker wearing gloves carefully opened the box.

Inside was a piece of damaged black fabric.

Suit material.

Richard had been wearing a black suit when he rushed in.

Margaret reached out, fingertips trembling as she gently touched the fabric.

Cold, rough, still stained with blood that had congealed and turned black—someone else's blood.

She said nothing, just took that piece of fabric from the box and clutched it tightly in her palm.

That small piece of cloth extinguished the last glimmer of hope.

The breath she'd been holding onto finally, completely, gave out.

The world spun before her eyes, endless darkness swallowing her once more.

When she woke again, she was in a hospital room.

She'd been forcibly brought back.

A man in a suit who looked like a Neville Group executive was keeping watch by her bed. Seeing her awake, he immediately stood.

"Ms. Kennedy, you're awake. You've been unconscious for two days."

Margaret's gaze moved slowly, finally settling on him, her eyes hollow. "Any news?"

The man lowered his head, speaking with difficulty. "The official search and rescue has... stopped. They say there's no possibility of survival. Mr. Neville's parents think it's time to... prepare the funeral."

Prepare the funeral.

These words were like dull knives, slicing through her nerves one cut at a time.

Margaret closed her eyes. She didn't cry or make a scene.

That piece of fabric retrieved from the ocean floor was still clutched tightly in her hand, pressing painfully into her palm.

After a long moment, she opened her eyes again.

The emptiness and fragility in those eyes had been replaced by a chilling calm.

"All of Richard's project files, core access to the energy department, and the password to his private server. Bring them to me."