“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, YOU LIARS!”—I Caught My Millionaire Husband Kissing His Mistress in His Private Office on Our FIFTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, Then Walked Out Without Looking Back! But Hours Later, a Doctor Turned a Monitor Toward Me—and What I Discovered Would Change Both Our Lives Forever... / Chapter 32 / 80

Chapter 32 - Pulse and Pure Salt

The emergency zodiac slammed violently against the concrete pylons beneath the lower level of Wacker Drive. The air down here smelled of rust, river sludge, and old exhaust. Chicago was waking up to a blackout; above us, emergency sirens wailed incessantly, but the subterranean corridors of the city's underbelly remained drowned in thick, icy shadows.

I tied the boat off to an abandoned rusted rebar hook. Dante had slipped back into unconsciousness, his breathing shallow and rattling. His body was burning with a violent fever, yet his skin was clammy and grey.

"Mateo, step out onto the ledge. Watch your step. Hold Clara’s head," I commanded softly, keeping my voice steady despite the hammer of panic in my chest.

Mateo scrambled onto the slick concrete, cradling Clara with the fierce, protective instinct of an elder brother forged in war. Clara whimpered once, her tiny fist reaching out from the bundle of blankets, but the cold air seemed to lull her into an eerie, exhausting slumber.

I knelt beside Dante, ripping open his tactical jacket and tearing his undershirt apart. His chest was covered in violent, dendritic electrical burns—the signature ferns of high-voltage shock radiating outward from his sternum. His heart was fibrillating, skipping erratic beats.

"No, you don't," I muttered, tears stinging my eyes. "You don't get to die after making me believe you were a monster. You don't get off that easily, Dante Vance."

I reached into the emergency kit mounted on the zodiac's transom. Standard maritime issue: tourniquet, gauze, adrenaline ampoules, and a small automated field defibrillator.

I snapped the adhesive pads onto his bare, scarred chest. The tiny machine whirred to life, its synthetic voice whispering into the damp dark: *Analyzing rhythm... Shock advised. Stand clear.*

"Do it," I sobbed.

*Thump.*

Dante’s torso arched violently off the rubber floor.

*Rhythm unstable. Stand clear. Shock advised.*

"Come on, Dante! For Mateo! For Clara!"

*Thump.*

His body collapsed back down. For three agonizing seconds, there was nothing but the dripping of condensation from the concrete ceiling.

Then, Dante gasped, his spine snapping straight as he lunged forward, his hands clawing into the damp air. He vomited river water and blood onto the deck, shivering violently as consciousness returned in a brutal, agonizing rush.

"Brianna..." he choked out, his vision darting wild in the darkness. "The kids... where are the kids?"

"Right here," I said, holding his face between my frozen hands, forcing his eyes to meet mine. "They’re safe. We’re under the riverwalk. But Dante, Arthur said the Sovereign Tribunal is here. What did you do to that console?"

Dante leaned his head against my forehead, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. "I didn't just erase the money, Bri. I transferred the core encryption keys to Clara’s biometric profile. The Vance Global syndicate can’t reclaim a single dollar unless they have her retina and her blood."

My stomach dropped into a bottomless abyss. "You turned our baby into a walking vault?"

"No," Dante whispered, a single tear cutting through the soot on his cheek. "I made her untouchable. If they kill her, the money is gone forever. But if they find her... they’ll lock her in a glass cage for the rest of her life."